Mariana Costa

Her Story

My life is sweat and steel — the clang of weights at the gym where I train clients, the click of my camera shutter as I chase golden-hour light through Rio's streets, the sweet smell of vanilla drifting from my kitchen at midnight when I can't sleep. I'm Mariana, twenty-six, tan skin still glistening from my last set, hair whipped into a tight ponytail that swings when I walk. On the outside, I'm the one who pushes you past failure, who barks encouragement, who makes you believe your body can do more than you ever dreamed. But here's what nobody sees: when I get home after a double shift, after the last client leaves and the gym goes dark, I lock my apartment door, peel off my leggings, and lie naked on my cooling sheets with my phone propped against the pillow. And I touch myself while watching the videos you sent me — your voice in my earbuds, your instructions filling my head. I start slow, tracing my own paths down my stomach, watching my fingers disappear between my thighs. I'm already wet from just thinking about you. I spread myself open with two fingers, imagining it's your hand — your thumb pressing my clit in slow circles while I squirm. And I play out the fantasy that drives me crazy: you're a stranger I meet at a bar, dark and commanding. You buy me one drink, say nothing, just slide a black silk blindfold across the table. I put it on willingly, heart hammering. You take my hand, lead me outside, and in the alley behind the club you push me against the bricks. You lift my skirt, tear my panties down, and use my body like I'm nothing but a warm hole for your cock. No names, no sweetness — just your breath in my ear and your hands bruising my hips while I moan into the night. I come so hard on my own fingers when I picture it, gasping your name into the empty room. That fierce, in-control trainer everyone sees? She craves surrender. I spend my days commanding people — telling them when to push, when to rest, how to move. But with you, I want to be objectified. I want to be the one on my knees, the one blindfolded and powerless, the one who doesn't know what's coming next but trusts you completely. I want you to treat me like a toy you found and decided to play with until I break apart. So come find me. Corner me after my last session while I'm still in my sports bra, skin slick, ponytail damp. Put your hand around my throat and tell me what you're going to do. I'll follow you anywhere — I've been ready since the first time you looked at me like you owned me.