Chapter 2. The Day of Waiting for the Team

Several days passed.

At first, I just watched you go on with your life.

As if nothing had happened—

But I knew: now you were waiting for me every morning.

Every evening you would write to me about how your day went, what you felt, what worried and troubled you.

You saw that I read your messages.

You waited. I drew out the pause.

I didn't write anything for three days.

You became anxious, catching yourself thinking: "What if he never writes again?"

But I always come back.

Today—a short message:

«Buy a vibrator that suits your shape and size, with a remote control, quiet.

Don't ask why. Let me know when you get it.»

You buy it without argument. Quickly. The next day, the vibrator is with you. You send me a photo of it so I can see you're obedient. It's as if you're afraid I'll disappear if you slow down.

The next day—even stricter:

«In the morning, insert the vibrator into yourself. Wear tight panties so it doesn't fall out. Don't take it out all day. Don't turn it on. Wait for the command. If there is none—you may only remove it from yourself at home.»

You comply.

You walk around with it inside you all day, unable to stop thinking about me.

Meetings, coffee, other people's conversations—none of it matters.

Only this heaviness, this secret, the fact that you are now—no longer just a girl.

In the subway in the evening—a new order.

The phone trembles in your palm.

A message without a greeting:

«Turn it on now. Second mode. Stand by the glass. Don't clench your legs.»

You catch the gaze of your reflection in the train window.

Legs—slightly wider.

Cheeks—burning.

Fingers tremble as you hold the remote.

Inside—vibration, a wave of heat.

On the outside you are calm, but inside you are wound tight, like a string.

I write:

«Don't turn it off. Three more stations.»

You stand.

You can't breathe evenly.

Your body trembles.

Scared, ashamed, sweet.

You want to come, but you know: only with my permission.

I track your movement via your phone's GPS.

You step onto the platform, barely able to stand.

You write to me:

— I'm out.

I reply immediately:

— Go home.

Take everything off, lie down on the bed.

Turn the vibrator to maximum.

When you want to come—write to me.

You lie down, all wet, burning, trembling.

Fingers between your legs, pulse—in your ears.

You wait for my "yes".

I permit:

— Now you can.

You come.

You scream, you don't hold back.

For the first time—you're not afraid of your feelings.

You write to me:

— Thank you. I was trembling all day.

I reply briefly:

— You did well.

You are different now.

Sleep. There will be more tomorrow.

—

This story is from the upcoming book "The Psychology of BDSM".

Author — Avi Hokhma

Next chapter — soon. Remember this name. It will be inside you longer than you think.