Submission

The moment I crossed my legs, I already knew the three of them had planned something. What I didn’t expect was how hard it would be to stay quiet all night.

Four days tied to his bed, twelve thousand euros richer, and a body that no longer resists the same way. The worst part isn’t what he does: it’s what starts shining in my eyes.

I had kept my secret hidden at the back of the closet for months. That night I opened the door in a pleated skirt and red bow—and never wanted to turn back.

I took off my trousers in the passageway, stowed them in my backpack, and pushed open the gate. I knew exactly what awaited me upstairs—and it drove me wild.

I saw the message at eleven at night and knew this time I wasn’t going to make excuses. Fifteen minutes later I was climbing into his car in an empty lot.

I arrived at his door trembling, unaware that a cheap dress and plastic heels would change everything I thought I knew about myself that night.

I rang his bell with trembling hands. Twenty years older, a declared sadist, no mercy. And me, a virgin, begging him to begin the moment he closed the door.

When the fourth escort entered the room in a red dress, the tray of drinks slipped from my hands. She was my wife.

She smelled of clean skin and expensive perfume. My tongue moved before my mind did, and when she turned and looked at me, I knew there was no turning back.

It was almost eleven at night and the whole building seemed empty. When I turned my chair around, all that was missing was someone opening that door. And they did.

I followed her upstairs with my eyes fixed on her skirt, never imagining that I wouldn’t be the one making the decisions that night.

When I opened the door and saw the three of them on the landing in their blue coveralls, I knew something was going to break that afternoon, and it wasn’t just the washing machine.

When I opened the door and saw her there, barefoot with her mascara running, I knew she hadn’t come to talk. She had come to reclaim what she’d abandoned.

I want to put on my wig, do my makeup, and surrender to a stranger who has read my stories. One night, no commitments, before it’s too late.

Three weeks without hearing from him, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I texted “hiii,” and his reply reminded me of the only thing I was to him: his obedient slut.

I was twenty-two, with a curiosity kept under lock and key and the address of a hotel where no one would ask awkward questions. Antonella was waiting with a book in her hand.

I entered that room thinking I was in control. I left knowing exactly who I owed my silence to.

I arrived at his apartment convinced I was going to penetrate him. I left realizing my body had always wanted the opposite.

When she got out of the car to meet another man, I knew that night would no longer belong only to me. I didn’t expect her to ask me to pay for the room from my phone.

It was after one when he knocked on my door. He lived two blocks away, with his boyfriend, and swore it would only be a quick blowjob. Neither of us kept the promise.