Submission

I climbed the stairs to his building with my thong already soaked. I had no idea that stranger was going to split me in two before midnight.

Thirty candidates, a rector with too much power, and me at thirty-eight with all the experience in the world. I thought I could handle it. I was half right.

That night I shaved, washed, and waited for Lucía, knowing exactly what I wanted. She arrived with her backpack, her red lollipop, and that smile that never faded, no matter what we did.

I walked into the living room and found him waiting for me with something hidden behind his back. That smile told me before he did that the night wasn’t going to be normal.

The wig, the dress, and the heels were in my desk drawer. My boss had known for months. And that changed everything between us.

I’d rejected him a hundred times, called him the ugly duckling in front of everyone. When I opened my eyes, my wrists were hanging from a bar and he had a whip.

The message came in in the middle of the afternoon. Three words: “Try them on. Photo.” I went upstairs and opened the drawer where he keeps the bikinis.

Camila was already on the bed when I walked in. She looked at me with that smile of someone who knows something you still don’t, and then the Master closed the door behind us.

That Saturday he came over to correct my posture without being asked. By Monday, we already had a silent arrangement and I had chosen the right thong.

When we got off the plane we had a check and a secret. The check paid the debts; the secret, though, can’t be erased, not even with the tattoo covered.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. Even so, while I scrubbed the floor on my knees, I felt my body belonged to him more than ever.

When the wooden door of my cell creaked open after midnight, I knew it was him. I closed my eyes. I didn’t come to the convent fleeing the world: I came fleeing what I felt for that man.

In the airport bar, only one seat was free. I took it, not knowing that the redhead across from me was about to destroy my entire life.

Three weeks of voice notes negotiating limits. That night I arrived at his loft with my wrists ready for rope and a yes that would learn how to be nuanced.

Forty-three degrees, four in the afternoon, and her on the balcony with the camisole stuck to her body, knowing full well I was going to climb five floors.

When the air returned to my lungs and he turned on the red camera, I knew that night of domination had only just begun and I could no longer go back.

I arrived at the hotel trembling, convinced it would only be photos. When the second brother walked in, I knew that night wouldn’t end as planned.

The private room was immaculate, and I was kneeling in the center, waiting. Eight men entered in silence. Then I understood what it meant to truly surrender.

They tied me up in the park in broad daylight and no one came to help. They had planned it well—much better than I had.

They didn’t give him water in a cup. They poured it over her foot, and he had to lick it from the leather straps if he wanted to survive.