Submission

We pulled down our pants in front of the other four and, when he bent over me, I knew I wasn’t leaving that classroom the same man.

When Damián offered me the body of his model, I knew the bill was coming due. And it came, on his bed, with my wrists cuffed behind my back.

Every morning I purposely hike my skirt up one finger’s width more, hoping some older woman will look at me with that mix of disapproval and desire that appears in all my fantasies.

We shared a room to save money. I was married, a father of two. Then came that night at the hotel when he decided we were going to be something else.

My wife wanted to watch me get fucked, not the other way around. What I discovered that night in the hotel suite still leaves me with questions I don’t dare answer.

I went down to the bathroom with my heels in my hand and still not understanding what it would feel like to spend an entire day going out as Luna on Bruno’s arm in that town.

I took the elevator in heels and a wig, praying I wouldn’t run into anyone. He opened the door in a robe and called me a slut before I even said hello.

When I came out of the bathroom in heels, stockings, and a red baby doll, his face said it all: I was no longer his best friend’s “daughter,” I was something else.

He put velvet handcuffs on my wrists and the blindfold over my eyes. He told me to trust him, that I was going to like it. I didn’t know how to say yes.

When she came out of the bathroom in the clothes I’d left on the bed, I knew that afternoon she’d obey every order without a complaint.

When I left the shower shaved and dizzy from rum, I saw him sitting on the bed with a pink collar and wig. The island wasn’t shelter—it was a trap.

My wife went out with her “friends,” and I went to Mauricio’s. One camera, two couples, and the question of who would be the better slut that night.

Every night Marcos spent watching without being able to touch was another step downward. Valeria didn’t seduce him: she possessed him. And he found no way out—or sought one.

Valentina recognized the three men in the dining room: she had greeted them at company parties. Tonight, Rodrigo had brought them for another reason.

They told me the client was special. They didn’t tell me he was the city’s most feared man—or that once I tied him up, he would truly begin to break.

Sometimes the greatest pleasure is doing nothing. I lay on the sofa, arms spread, and let her take control.

The ropes marked my skin red. Guilt marked my soul black. And that man kept looking for the crack where he could break me open completely.

I lost 22 kilos. My body bears scars I never saw coming. And every week I lie to my family with a forced smile on the screen.

He arrived soaked, the marks from the last session still throbbing beneath his clothes. No one in the city knew that the most feared man came to kneel before me.

He came back from his evening run and found her in the dunes. She wasn’t alone. She never had been.