Transfiguration Part 1, Chapters 8-11

Chapter 8. At the Window in the Night

You've already grown accustomed to waiting for my tasks.

Today I decided to give you not just a command, but also space.

Evening.

You're at home, it's already dark.

You're tired, but inside, anticipation still trembles.

Your phone is at hand—you check again and again for a signal from me.

My voice on the phone:

—Get completely undressed. Turn off the light in the bedroom. Open the window wide.

Stand in front of the window so you can't be seen—but feel yourself that you could be noticeable.

You put the phone down.

Slowly you take off your clothes—layer by layer.

The window—a black frame in the dark air.

The city

is somewhere out there, and you are here—alive, open, almost at the edge.

I write:

— Be silent.

Look into the darkness beyond the window.

Lean your hands on the windowsill, bend forward.

Breathe deeper.

Your body freezes.

The stream of air chills your skin, it's hot between your legs.

You are all—open, transparent, trembling.

I give you a rhythm:

— Caress yourself from behind, slowly.

Feel with your fingers every line, every goosebump.

Don't rush.

Listen to the street, as if the city has become a witness, but no one knows what's happening.

If you want—you can be an exhibitionist for a minute.

Give yourself the right to be in view: turn on the light and take a couple of photos for me and for yourself.

You're afraid—and that excites you even more.

Fingers slide over your buttocks, over your thighs, between your legs.

Everything inside tightens, a moan freezes in your throat.

I write:

— Only once, touch yourself the way you love most.

Remember this movement.

Then close the window and go to the shower.

You obey.

Your fingers go where they couldn't before.

One deep, faltering gesture.

The orgasm is short, explosive, your body bends, knees tremble.

The window closes—the air still chills your skin.

You stand by the window for a long time, feeling yourself a part of the city, in which you can be anyone.

In the shower, you think of me.

You write:

— I did everything and send me your photos.

I reply:

— Good girl.

Tonight I promise to come to you in your dream.

You fall asleep naked, with a slight smile.

Inside—peace and the promise of a new game.

Chapter 9. The First Call

Today everything is different.

From the morning you wait for my message, but I am silent longer than usual.

Your body feels empty and tense, you've already grown used to being mine from a distance—through text, through pauses, through commands.

During the day I write:

— Today you will obey out loud.

You get scared. We've never spoken by voice, you only knew me through messages.

— Turn on your phone. Open Telegram.

I will call when I'm ready.

In the meantime, take everything off. Lie on the bed.

You wait. Excitement builds, your body freezes in anticipation.

The screen lights up—a call.

You press "accept".

I hear your breathing.

My voice in your headphones:

— Don't say anything. Just listen.

Are you ready?

You nod, then remember I can't see you.

— Good girl.

Put the phone nearby, turn on speakerphone.

Caress yourself. Don't rush.

I hear your every movement.

You comply.

Your palm slides over your stomach, further—between your legs.

I hear your breath change, your fingers tremble.

— Touch your breasts.

Caress your nipples, slowly, one by one.

You obey, your cheeks burn, your body arches.

— Good girl.

Now between your legs.

Do it the way you love most yourself.

Let me hear it.

You're already all wet.

I am silent, only listening to your moans, your ragged breath, the movements of your palms.

— Don't come until I say.

You cling to this boundary, holding on with your last strength.

A pause.

Only your moan and my breathing.

— Now.

You no longer hold back.

The orgasm tears through you, your voice explodes—you no longer think about how you sound, whether it's shameful or not.

Just the two of us, voice and body.

You lie for a long time, breathing heavily.

I say quietly:

— Good girl. Now you are truly mine.

Tomorrow you will obey me live again.

You smile through tears, for the first time—completely without fear.

Today everything is different.

From the morning you wait for my message, but I am silent longer than usual.

Your body feels empty and tense, you've already grown used to being mine from a distance—through text, through pauses, through commands.

During the day I write:

— Today you will obey out loud.

You get scared. We've never spoken by voice, you only knew me through messages.

— Turn on your phone. Open Telegram.

I will call when I'm ready.

In the meantime, take everything off. Lie on the bed.

You wait. Excitement builds, your body freezes in anticipation.

The screen lights up—a call.

You press "accept".

I hear your breathing.

My voice in your headphones:

— Don't say anything. Just listen.

Are you ready?

You nod, then remember I can't see you.

— Good girl.

Put the phone nearby, turn on speakerphone.

Caress yourself. Don't rush.

I hear your every movement.

You comply.

Your palm slides over your stomach, further—between your legs.

I hear your breath change, your fingers tremble.

— Touch your breasts.

Caress your nipples, slowly, one by one.

You obey, your cheeks burn, your body arches.

— Good girl.

Now between your legs.

Do it the way you love most yourself.

Let me hear it.

You're already all wet.

I am silent, only listening to your moans, your ragged breath, the movements of your palms.

— Don't come until I say.

You cling to this boundary, holding on with your last strength.

A pause.

Only your moan and my breathing.

— Now.

You no longer hold back.

The orgasm tears through you, your voice explodes—you no longer think about how you sound, whether it's shameful or not.

Just the two of us, voice and body.

You lie for a long time, breathing heavily.

I say quietly:

— Good girl. Now you are truly mine.

Tomorrow you will obey me live again.

You smile through tears, for the first time—completely without fear.

Chapter 10. In the Mirror's Reflection

The morning begins with my message:

— Today is an experiment.

You don't ask questions, you just wait.

I write:

— In the evening, when you're home alone, get completely undressed.

Go to the hallway. Stand in front of the large mirror you look into before leaving the apartment.

Set your phone to record video—so your whole body is visible.

You reply:

— Yes.

Evening. You're at home, it's already dark.

You enter the hallway, the light reflects in the mirror.

Your clothes fall to the floor, your skin gets goosebumps.

You set up the phone so your whole body is visible and start recording.

The screen glows, like a second pair of eyes.

You remember my voice:

— Don't look away.

Look at yourself the whole time.

Start with your face—look into your eyes.

Then slowly look lower, study every part of yourself.

You comply.

Embarrassment on your face, a tremor in your body.

— Caress your neck, your shoulders, your breasts.

Do it slowly, so every point becomes hot.

Feel your skin, the warmth from your touches.

Your hands wander over your body, you notice your breath becoming deeper.

— Don't close your eyes.

Run your palms over your thighs, over your stomach.

Now slowly—between your legs.

Observe how your face changes, how you blush.

You see yourself—real, open, desired.

You do what you've long been afraid to do—you watch yourself getting aroused.

— Touch your breasts, then go lower.

Move as if I were right there watching you.

Let this be only for me.

You are no longer shy.

You see your hand shaking, your stomach trembling, your nipples hardening.

All wet, all in anticipation.

— When you feel you can no longer hold back—don't look away, don't close your eyes.

Look into your own eyes just as you start to come.

You obey.

The orgasm comes in a wave—short, sharp, with a loud exhale.

You see it—your face, your body, your weakness and strength.

After—silence.

You stop the recording, sink to your knees, feel fatigue and a new warmth.

You breathe slowly, smile, and send the recording to me.

I write:

— You saw your true self.

Now you want to look at yourself again and again—and not look away.

Task for tomorrow: look at yourself in the mirror as the woman I want.

For the first time in a long while, you look at yourself without shame.

Chapter 11. New Sensations from Shopping

Today you go shopping, choosing a new dress for yourself.

I know about it in advance, as always. You write everything to me, I read it, but I reply very rarely.

In the morning—my message:

— Take with you only a dress, stockings, and shoes.

No underwear.

When you're in the store, write to me.

You reply:

— Okay.

An ordinary day, you walk through the mall, looking at shop windows.

Your heart feels both ashamed and sweet—you know I'm watching your every step.

Your fingers fidget with the strap of your bag, your legs move faster than usual.

In the store, you pick out several dresses.

In the fitting room you write to me:

— I'm here.

I reply:

— Take everything off, leave only the stockings and shoes.

Slowly put on the new dress, look at yourself in the mirror.

You look around—only a thick curtain around you, people beyond it, no one can see.

You undress.

The stockings hug your thighs, your skin is bare, your heart pounds.

You put on the dress, look in the mirror—

You see yourself as a woman who is desirable.

You study your reflection for a long time.

You bite your lip—what if someone looks in? But it arouses you.

I write:

— Take a photo. Just the dress and stockings.

Without your face is okay, if you're not yet used