Submission

I sat in that chair pretending to be in an emergency, but beneath the bra-less top my body only obeyed a voice not in the room: my master’s.

She had spent years deciding who obeyed and who begged. None of her clients knew that behind the mirror, someone was studying how to dethrone her.

I drove to the abandoned factory with my pulse racing. I stripped among the broken glass and crossed the door, not knowing what waited for me on the floors above.

He ordered me to masturbate in front of him while he smoked in the armchair. What neither of us expected was how that playful afternoon would end.

I saw her at the edge of the water, eating my boyfriend up with her eyes in front of me. That night I taught her, tied up and on her knees in my room, where she belonged.

I went out determined to let him see me with other men, but I ended up between two cars on an empty street, letting a stranger use me.

Tonight I’m sleeping on the floor, and I brought it on myself. The paradox of asking your Dom to order you around, then finding there’s no turning back.

That Monday the gym was almost empty. I only wanted to shower in peace, but I walked through the wrong door… and he was already inside, watching me without saying a word.

I crossed the complex to deliver a message and ended up surrounded by four older men who looked at me as if I were the main course of the afternoon.

I served that house since I was a boy and watched as that woman’s fire-red mane brought the valley’s most powerful men to their knees, one by one, by day of the week.

My friend promised me a wild costume night. I put on the sexiest outfit in the sex shop and headed out, not imagining what was waiting for me at that bar.

I always told myself my slip-ups were the alcohol’s fault. That morning, sober and in broad daylight, I knew I had been lying to myself.

The hum of the air conditioner was the soundtrack to her golden cage. That night, a blown tire left her before three strangers and on the edge of what she had never allowed herself to want.

I’ve never been attracted to men, but the thick cock of a macho who knows how to give orders drives me wild. Does that make me bisexual or something worse? I need someone to tell me.

Dommes squeeze, ring, burn them. We barely lick. The first time I looked at a pair up close was in a student flat, long before I knelt before anyone.

We’d had one clear rule for years, but that morning I understood that renewing the contract meant climbing onto the notary’s table in front of everyone.

My sister was abroad and I had to attend in her place. When my nephew demanded his gift in front of his friends, I knew I wouldn’t go home the same.

I let my guard down the moment he stepped into the stall. I hadn’t come looking for any of that, but his voice ordered me to kneel and I no longer knew how to say no.

I knew something was wrong the second I saw his face when he came in. No greeting, just calculated coldness and an order: “Say out loud what you’re responsible for.”

When the elevator door opened and I saw the apartment door ajar, I knew there would be no rules this time. And part of me had been craving that for days.