Submission

I dreamed of both of them when I felt the weight of a body climb onto the bed. A warm hand ran down my back, and before I opened my eyes I knew it wasn’t Mateo who had returned.

Nobody knows. Not even the person I sleep with every night. But when I close my eyes I see myself in front of the mirror, transformed into someone else, ready for him.

My family was one floor below and I was alone in my room, phone pressed to my ear, his voice ordering me to do things I’d never dared before.

I was on all fours, shaking, ass up, my own cock dripping on its own. He’d barely put the tip in and I was already begging him to break me completely.

When she told me her bed was big and she had everything ready for me, I felt a shiver. Her look wasn’t that of a boss: it was the look of someone who’d been calculating it for weeks.

When I went down to the library that afternoon, I had no idea my stepmother and her imposing partner had already decided what kind of man they were going to make of me.

When Damián closed the door and left on a trip, Mariela already knew that a whole week alone with Rodrigo would change everything between them.

She knew exactly what she wanted that night: a man who would look at her like she belonged to him and give her no reprieve. She only had to walk through that hotel room door.

Everyone suspects what I am from the way I dress, but I never confirm it. It’s my secret, and telling it anonymously turns me on more than anything else.

He came out of the shower with the towel at his waist, as always that afternoon. But that neighbor’s look wasn’t the usual one, and he knew it before he even opened his mouth.

When the doorbell rang, Babacar ordered him to open the door wearing only that ridiculous thong. His friend came in smiling, and Tomás knew that night he no longer belonged to himself.

I walked out of that meeting with my blood boiling. That night I didn’t want to play soft: I wanted to destroy the two boys waiting for me on their knees on the mattress.

Marcos asked me to look gorgeous by the time he got home. While Carla was doing my hair, I remembered everything I did to be his—and what I’m still willing to give.

Under my track pants I wore only fishnets and a lace thong. I wasn’t looking for just any doorway: I was looking for the place where they’d treat me like an object.

I looked in the mirror with my wig on and my sheer dress, and I knew that night I was going to let a stranger do everything to me I’d been imagining for weeks.

I was ready from four in the afternoon, soaked and aching, when that short man knocked on my door, never imagining I’d force out his nickname.

The young master’s wardrobe held a black uniform with a white cap, and Don Aurelio told her that once she put it on, she would cease to be Marcial forever.

That September morning I saw the shyest girl in class walk in. It took me two weeks to realize the shy one wasn’t her, it was me.

I’d spent months begging her for a session. When I finally stepped into her studio, I understood she hadn’t summoned me to photograph her, but to teach me obedience.

I had barely gone a few steps when my phone started vibrating nonstop. It was her, and she wasn’t going to let me get away that easily that night.