Victor. Chapter II

That same afternoon, at his house. The apartment smelled of stale sweat and failure. Víctor was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, naked, staring at his reflection in the fogged-up bathroom mirror. He had tried to masturbate for forty minutes, maybe an hour, but his hand had become a foreign, useless object. Every time he closed his eyes, he didn’t see Daniel kneeling or any of his former submissives. He saw Alex. He saw Alex’s back moving away down the school hallway. He saw the cold smile, the absolute contempt.

“Fuck,” he whispered, hitting the ceramic with his fist.

His phone was on the floor, by his feet. He picked it up with trembling fingers. He wasn’t going to look for pornography. That no longer worked. Nor was he going to look for Alex, or Marcos, or any trace of them on social media. He needed to erase himself, reboot himself, find a void where he could breathe without feeling that every molecule of air belonged to someone else.

He opened the search engine. He typed: fetish parties east coast this weekend. Then he deleted it. He typed: private BDSM events. Deleted it again. Finally he typed: escape. domination. sea.

The algorithm returned scattered results. Clubs in Barcelona, saunas in Madrid, a convention in Valencia that required prior membership. He scrolled with growing desperation until an ad stood out among the rest.

THE BROTHERHOOD OF SILENCE

(Costa Brava)

Friday 10:00 p.m. - Dawn

GayBar Submarine (Entrance through Salt Alley)

Víctor opened the link. His heart hammered against his ribs with a rhythm he didn’t recognize, a mixture of panic and something darker, older, that was beginning to awaken in his belly.

The ad text was brief:

“The Brotherhood welcomes the lost and those who believe themselves found. A night without names, without pasts, without futures. Only presents.

Place: Submarine. Former converted fish warehouse. Three floors. Basement for play. Main floor for encounters. Terrace for the air you will need.

MANDATORY DRESS CODE:

- THE MASTERS: Red armband on the left arm, mandatory. Leather clothing, harness, latex, or quality textile. Closed footwear. Upright bearing. Eyes forward. They choose, they never ask.

- THE SLAVES: Visible black collar (provided at entrance if you don’t have one). Optional: harness, chains, partial or total nudity. Submissive bearing. Eyes on the floor or at the Masters’ feet. They wait, they never demand.

There is no middle ground. There are no observers. You arrive as one or the other. The door decides for you if you hesitate.

Donation: €50 (Masters) / €20 (slaves).

Drink included for slaves who serve correctly.

Safety code: RED to stop everything. If you say RED, the night ends for you. No exceptions.”

Víctor read the ad three times. Then four. The room seemed to have shrunk, the wall...