Transfiguration. Part 1. Chapters 12 — 15

Chapter 12. The Elevator Experiment

I haven't written to you all day today.

You're worried, checking your phone every half hour, catching yourself feeling empty and anxious inside again.

In the evening, when you return home from work, a short message arrives:

— When you enter the building, bring your purse and coat home, and don't forget to leave your panties at home so that you only have your keys and phone in your hands, and headphones in your ears.

Go out to the elevator landing.

Call me when you're in the elevator lobby.

Then you'll do everything I say.

You only reply:

— Yes.

The entrance is empty, quiet, only

your footsteps and breathing are audible.

You stand by the elevator, call me.

I pick up:

— You're at the elevator, you're only wearing a dress, stockings, and shoes?

— Yes.

— Turn on the recording of our conversation.

Call the elevator.

When it arrives, if it's empty — go inside.

You obey — an empty elevator arrives, you enter, press the button for a random floor, the door closes with a soft rustle.

Your heart is pounding in your temples.

— Lift your dress above your hips. Put your feet together.

Caress yourself between your legs over the stockings, from your knees to the top of the stocking band, smoothly and gently.

You stand in the elevator — emptiness, a mirror, anxious light.

You lift your dress, your hand slides between your thighs.

You touch yourself slowly, as I ordered.

The car is moving, and you feel the arousal growing and the fear of being caught.

— Don't lower your dress until you count to 10. Count out loud to ten, then whisper my name.

You count to ten, your voice trembling, then:

— Avi…Avi…Avi…

The orgasm hits unexpectedly — short, tightening your whole body, you moan quietly.

The elevator stops.

You quickly lower your dress, step out onto the landing.

At that moment, I give the next command:

— Now slowly walk down the stairs to your apartment.

Turn on the selfie camera, take a short video: how you walk, how you tremble after all that.

Let only your legs and part of your skirt be visible — I care about your walk, your new gaze.

You obey.

Every step down is a test: your legs feel like jelly, but you catch the new rhythm of your body.

The dress rubs against your hips, the coolness of the stairwell intensifies the feeling of vulnerability and inner freedom.

You record the video, look at yourself, for the first time you see not just a girl, but a woman — brave, real, who has opened herself up.

At home, you send me the call recording and the video.

I write:

— Do you hear yourself? Do you see?

You now know how to want yourself out loud and see yourself as you are.

I'm proud of you.

For the first time, you catch yourself thinking: "I can do much more than I thought."

You smile, tremble — but for the first time, you're not afraid to be real.

Chapter 13. An Unusual Office Day

Today is a workday, a usual morning. You've already gotten used to going to work in a dress and wearing stockings. This is your new normal.

You wake up, write me "Good morning."

I don't reply — you already know: sometimes silence is part of the game.

The day drags on.

At lunch — a message:

— Take a meeting room or a quiet room where you can close the door for 5 minutes.

Don't explain anything to your colleagues.

When you're there — write.

You look for a moment, catch a pause, lock yourself in a small room, write:

— I'm inside.

I reply:

— Take off your panties.

Leave them in your bag, let them stay here until evening.

Sit on a chair, spread your legs.

Turn on the conversation recording — I want you to be able to listen later to what was happening to you.

You obey.

Panties in the bag, the cold plastic of the chair touches your skin — goosebumps run over your body.

You sit deeper, arch your back a little.

Legs spread, you feel more vulnerable than ever and — for the first time — strong.

I write:

— Caress yourself.

First only on the inner side of your thighs…

Slowly…

Then a little higher, between your legs.

Stop when you feel the heat and wetness.

You do as I command, your breathing falters, your hand trembles.

Pulse in your ears, heart beating in your stomach.

I give the final instruction:

— Insert one finger into your vagina… then two… then three… then four…

Press your palm against your clitoris, hard.

Freeze and feel how alive you are.

Remember this.

You freeze, scream inside, but don't make a sound.

In your ears, only your own breathing, and that excites you more than if you weren't alone.

Then you slowly exhale.

I write:

— Now fix your clothes and go back to work. Go out into the office without panties under your dress.

Until evening, no underwear, only your bare body under your clothes. At your workplace, don't cross your legs or press your knees together — a fist should fit between them.

If anyone asks why you're so happy — just smile.

You do everything as ordered.

For the rest of the day, you walk around the office without panties, making sure your knees don't press together, hiding inside a new feeling:

you're not just a woman, you're mine.

In the evening you write to me:

— I thought I couldn't do it. But I did. Thank you.

I reply:

— You're growing up.

Now you can be yourself even where everyone expects a "good girl."

You feel that even in the office there is now a place for the real you — desired, strong, free.

You smile, look at yourself in the mirror — and for the first time see a strong woman who is not afraid of her own desires or the gaze of others.

Chapter 14. Confidence in a Crowd

Today you're wearing your favorite dress just above the knee and gorgeous stockings — no extra details, just you, your skin, and a light coat.

You leave home a little earlier, just to walk slowly.

The dress plays in the wind, the hem lifting to reveal part of your thighs, but the wind tries to lift the dress even higher, but the coat doesn't let the mischievous wind do it.

You feel a slight embarrassment, but you don't hurry to press your dress down with your hand as you used to. Let them see, let them admire, let them envy, let them fantasize — this is your day.

At the subway entrance, you catch a man's gaze. You don't look away, just walk past, feeling how it ignites a heat in your lower belly.

In the car, you sit opposite a man.

He sees your knees, his gaze slides higher — to your thighs, which disappear under the fabric of the dress.

In response to his gaze, you don't squeeze your knees together as before, but on the contrary, slightly spread them, allowing him to see your legs a little deeper under the dress.

Your whole body reacts — it's warm inside, your heart beats faster, you want even more.

In the office, you walk a little slower than usual, and notice how men watch you go by.

You smile to yourself — today you control the attention, you play without fear.

In the office bathroom, you close the door, dress — above your hips, fingers slide over your skin.

You don't let yourself lose control — a couple of movements between your legs to add fire and maintain the arousal, and back to the usual work rhythm.

In the evening, returning home, in the elevator you linger by the mirror.

You look into your own eyes, fix your hair, run your palm over your thigh — you feel that today you are different.

At home, you don't undress, just fall onto the bed as you are, in your coat, dress, and stockings.

Your fingers slowly slide between your legs, exploring every millimeter of your velvety, delicate skin in the entire small space above the stocking band, closer and closer to the magical little button that draws you in so much. Everything — now everything is allowed.

The orgasm comes quickly, deeply, your body trembles for a long time, and a new strength appears inside: today you controlled yourself and the world.

You write to me:

— Today I wasn't "like everyone else," but like a woman who is desired. Tomorrow I want even more.

You smile, not a shred of shame, only pleasure and a new feeling of power over yourself.

Chapter 15. A Little Later in the Evening

Having come to your senses a little after the sweet orgasm, you find the strength to drop your coat on the floor and make it to the windowsill of your bedroom window.

The room is dark, only the city glows outside the glass. You watch the crawling lights of cars on the strips of roads.

Your body still hums from the memories of the day.

You remember the subway: how you didn't squeeze your knees when a man looked at you, didn't avert your gaze, how you felt special in the crowd — noticeable, desired.

You remember how your fingers caressed your clitoris in the bathroom, and how you held yourself back from reaching release, staying in that aroused state.

All of this swirls inside, doesn't let you sleep.

You slowly slide your palm over your thigh, further — under your dress, higher and higher.

This time you also don't wait for permission, don't think about anything,

just allow yourself to feel everything and do it yourself.

First you only touch your lips, framing your little button, listening to your breathing. Gentle touches and breaths become deeper, tension builds.

Finally, you allow your fingers to play with your clitoris… Moisture seeps from you, the hem of your dress is already soaked through, your fingers are wet and slippery, every touch to your little button spreads heat throughout your body.

At this moment, you allow yourself everything — shame, excitement, and pleasure.

You don't hold back your voice, don't hide your face,

don't make excuses to yourself.

The orgasm comes quietly, but deeply, right there on this windowsill,

in this evening twilight,

and for the first time after it, you don't feel guilt.

Coming to your senses, you smoothly glide from the windowsill to the bed, lie down, and hug your own shoulders. In your thoughts, there are no longer any other voices, only you, your body,

your desire, and your strength.

You take your phone and write to me:

— I want to know myself even better.

Let there be a next step. I'm ready.

And for the first time, you don't wait for a reply.

You know: now the path belongs to you.