Submission

When Renata opened the curtains and put me on all fours facing the glass, I knew that night I would belong to everyone passing in the street—not just to her and my husband.

When Diego held out his hand to dance, I knew my husband would only watch. And that I, for once, would stop being the respectable wife everyone thought I was.

Lucía always wondered what it would feel like with a man like her sister’s husband. That night she found out, while Tomás waited on his knees with a cage between his legs.

When he told me he had bargained my price sitting at the bar, I should have been outraged. Instead I felt my cunt quiver imagining the scene.

I found her waiting for me in bed, but that night I didn’t want her all to myself. I took her into the hallway, naked, right in front of my friend’s door.

We’d been playing our secret game for months, but when Bruno closed the hotel door and Tomás sat down to watch, I knew there was no turning back that night.

When Lucía crossed the room and sat on his knees without looking at me, I knew that night I would only watch—and that was exactly what we both wanted.

Nando left my panties bunched around one ankle, and while Bruno held me against the sofa, I understood that that night I was the merchandise they both wanted to break in.

That night we agreed to do something different. I’d cook, open the door, and watch her enjoy another man. What I didn’t imagine was how much I’d enjoy obeying.

She expected shouting, perhaps the end of everything. Instead, he offered her a glass of wine and asked her to tell him everything, without leaving out a single detail.

That night I knelt while another man took my wife on the table. He thought he was the one in control; neither of them suspected what was really happening between us.

“Your cooperation is the only currency you have,” the message said. Mariana shut off the phone knowing she would obey again, just as she had before.

When she entered that club hidden behind a theology bookstore, Marlene knew her husband’s freedom would be paid for with every garment she shed before the judge.

I accepted the bet with laughter and wine. Twenty minutes later, he was taking a satin apron and gloves from the drawer, and I was no longer in charge of the house.

She opened the door expecting the usual bottle. Instead, he handed her a lace apron and a smile that left no room for refusal.

She crosses the street, thighs clenched, careful not to lose a single drop of what he asked her to bring home. Her husband waits awake.

She put on the maid’s apron just to shut him up, never imagining it would awaken something she’d pretended for years not to feel.

Complaints about the noise ended in dinner. And dinner turned into something Daniel never imagined he would witness with his own eyes, in his own home.

He came to inspect the boiler and, between sips of coffee, made a proposition neither of them had dared say aloud.

At three in the morning, the first message arrived. A woman tied to an unfamiliar bed and a sentence that chilled my blood: “this beauty is your wife.”