Submission

She ordered me to take off my clothes and let her hands tighten every wire against my skin. When I started getting wet, I knew there was no turning back.

She lifted her skirt, looked at me hard, and said not to be embarrassed, that we all did it. That’s when I knew that night wouldn’t be like any other.

When I pulled my leggings down in front of him, I knew from his look that he’d do exactly what I asked, no matter how filthy it was.

He decided when I undressed, when he tied me up, and in front of whom. I only had to obey—and I learned obedience turned me on more than I ever admitted.

I ordered him to stay on his knees and not move. What came after taught him that with me, obedience isn’t an option: it’s the only rule there is.

I held it in all afternoon, thinking about the exact moment I’d walk through that door and he’d understand, once again, what he was there for.

I went into the bedroom and found the dresser drawers empty of lace and full of men’s clothes. That night she learned she no longer got a say.

I felt her bare feet on my shoulder in the darkness. Then a voice asked me if I liked the way her socks smelled, and all I could do was say yes.

I was only going to touch him for a moment, out of pity. I never imagined that old man with the huge hands would end up giving me orders while I obeyed without resistance.

For years I exposed myself in the window while no one mattered, until the night I crossed the street barefoot to kneel before the only man who dared to truly look at me.

He offered me double the salary of anyone else. What wasn’t in the contract was everything his hand on my shoulder was demanding from me.

When he looked in the mirror, he no longer recognized himself: blonde wig, red corset, heels. And she, smoking on the sofa, was waiting for him with a smile he had never seen before.

Many people ask me where my fetish for rubber gloves comes from. Almost nobody knows the answer. It started one Friday, in my aunt’s room, with the door locked.

I’d been protecting that job like gold for three months. That morning, alone with him before opening, I discovered how much I liked being told what to do.

I’d written that it would be my first time submitting. I never imagined the first thing she’d do when she opened the door would be slap me and order me to kneel.

I didn’t let you lift your face until you understood that, while you’re behind me, my mouth and nose belong to me and you’ll use them however I order.

Each step made the hidden metal beneath her skirt ring out. Vera had learned to live wet, on the edge, waiting for the next needle he would drive into her flesh.

He knew he was going to lose before they even started. But giving in right away gave him nothing: the pleasure was in resisting, in forcing the other to wrench victory from him with bites under the full moon.

When we close the bedroom door, we stop being the proper couple everyone knows. In there there are no limits, only the ones we set in order to break them.

The receptionist handed me a package with no return address. Inside, a metal plug and a note in his handwriting: “For our date, I want you to wear it.”