Submission

The padlock snapped open, and before leaving the cage she knew he had returned with another woman’s scent clinging to his skin.

I could never tell them apart. One kissed me tenderly; the other tied me up and used me. It took me too long to realize there was never a mistake: they planned everything together.

When the walls fell and swords were drawn on her knights, she had only one bargaining chip left: kneel naked before the man who had destroyed everything.

She came to my house with two beers and a story she needed to get out: the night she realized she loved giving up control completely.

Nuria was forty-two, a bar owner on the brink of ruin, and the lender wanted to record her only asset: her and her son, one night, unwitnessed.

All it took was a firm hand on her neck for her to understand that I set the rules that night. The rest depended on whether she dared to stay.

His first night in cell 118 was enough to teach him he no longer owned his body, only belonged to the man in the lower bunk.

Her ass offered, the unused whip in my hand, and her begging me to begin. But the master’s pleasure is something else: making her wait until fear and desire become one.

While my husband was sucking on my breasts in front of the mirror, I was thinking about her and the body of the man we’d be having dinner with that night.

While he boiled the tea, the two men tied to the table were beginning to realize that no one would leave that living room tonight the way they had entered.

I woke naked between the two of them, my body wrecked from the night before, and from the brush of that green ruler along my back I knew they weren’t finished with me yet.

The old man at the deli had the last two bottles of the wine I needed for that night’s dinner. And he knew exactly what he was going to charge me before he let me leave.

“I make the rules, and you follow them,” she said, and none of the four of us dared contradict her. Months of isolation had left us at her mercy.

There was a locked door next to Barbara’s room. I opened it out of curiosity, not knowing that by that same afternoon I’d end up tied down inside.

I’m finally writing it down: what turns me on is being the anonymous little faggot of a married man, kneeling without knowing his name and him not knowing mine either. That’s it. Over and over.

I promised him I would be his woman, no matter the cost. I didn’t know each dose would erase me until my own body no longer belonged to me.

She caught me watching those videos behind her back. Instead of getting angry, she smiled and asked, “Do you really want another man to fuck me in front of you?”

I pulled out my cock pretending to piss under the tree, waiting to see whether that stranger would dare come closer in the park’s dim light.

She didn’t call me by my name the first time. She looked at me whole, without sleaze and without pity, as if my body were not a problem she had to solve.

We agreed to meet through the app in twenty minutes. I never imagined that that same night a stranger would decide what my body did and whom I gave it to.