The silence of the night grew heavy inside the modest house. The human, seated in his chair, stared at Kaelira as if she were an enigma that, for the first time in his life, he could decipher with complete freedom. There was something new in his eyes: a gleam that came neither from lust nor naïve curiosity, but from the unprecedented sensation of power.
For him, life had always been made of invisible chains. There was always someone telling him what he could or could not do: "Don't climb there, it's dangerous," "Don't go alone, you might get hurt." It was as if the entire world had decided he did not belong to himself. Now, for the first time, he was not being controlled. He was the one in control.
Kaelira, standing before him, felt the weight of that truth in every nerve. Her entire body pulsed with the urgency of hunger. The brainwaves emanating from the man were like invisible electrical currents, radiating through space and invading her flesh. Her body reacted instinctively—almost grateful, almost submissive.
But her mind screamed. Her mind remembered the scars, the cruel training in Zyphoria, the pain of every time she had been forced to obey against her own will. I don't want this. I will not bow. I am not your slave. And yet, her body had already bowed.
"Stand up," he said.
The voice held no anger, no harshness. It was almost calm, even gentle. But to Kaelira, it was like the touch of a cold blade running down her spine. Before she could resist, her legs moved. They trembled, but they obeyed. She was standing.
The human leaned forward, his hands resting on the wheels of his chair. His eyes gleamed. He didn't need to shout. He didn't need to threaten. He simply spoke—and she obeyed.
Inside Kaelira, war ignited. Her mind howled with hatred: I should crush him. I could tear him apart right now. I am not his thing. But her body, starving, vibrated with a strange satisfaction. Obedience felt like sinking into a warm bath after days in the cold. Like breathing after suffocating. It was pleasure.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
"Walk." The command came low, almost distracted.
Kaelira's feet moved. One step. Another. Each advance sounded like a betrayal of herself. With every step, her mind filled with hatred, but her body lit up with involuntary pleasure. It was as if two opposing forces were tearing her apart from within: the mind writhing in pain, the body drowning in the ecstasy of obedience.
She remembered the training in Zyphoria, the Dominators imposing pain and scars to reinforce submission. There, obedience was punishment. But here… obedience was nourishment. And that confused everything.
I hate this. I hate every gesture. I hate every word he makes me follow. And at the same time, her body shuddered in satisfaction, as if each command were a gift.
She thought about running. About disobeying. But she knew the truth: if she refused, hunger would crush her. The brainwaves would withdraw. And in six days—perhaps less—she would collapse, dead.
The human watched her with intensity. Inside him, a silent pleasure grew. For the first time, he was not a burden. Not a weight. Not someone who needed to be handled with care. He was the one who said do—and someone did. It was addictive. It was liberating.
Kaelira clenched her fists. She wanted to rebel, to shatter that illusion. But her hands, instead, relaxed on their own, as if waiting for new orders. And when the next command came, her body moved instantly, obedient, betraying her mind once again.
I am a prisoner of my body… she thought bitterly. My body desires him, my body bows. But my mind… my mind will never be his.
And that conflict burned inside her like fire.
Hours passed in that silent game. Simple orders. Basic movements. Sit. Stand. Come closer. Stop. No cruel words. No improper touch. Only absolute command.
For the human, each fulfilled order was an intimate victory against the life that had always controlled him. For Kaelira, each act of obedience was an internal death, a loss of what made her free.
And yet, something began to change. Her body no longer obeyed merely out of necessity. It longed for the orders. Each command was a dose of chemical pleasure, an invisible nectar that sustained her. The mind resisted, but the flesh wanted more.
That contrast was driving her mad.
Suddenly, as the human uttered yet another simple command, something inside Kaelira exploded. Her eyes filled with tears—not of fragility, but of pure rage. Her mouth opened in a scream that never left her lips, but echoed violently inside her mind
I DON'T WANT THIS! I DON'T WANT TO BOW! I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR SLAVE!
But her body bowed anyway.
The human looked at her in silence, feeling the invisible weight of that moment. He needed no words. The control was there. But Kaelira knew: if this continued, sooner or later, nothing would remain of her but an obedient shell.
And it was in that instant—within that fracture between flesh and consciousness—that a silent decision began to form. Either she would find a way to break the prison of her body… or she would be devoured by her own instinct, until nothing remained but the perfect servant.
Her body was already becoming addicted to obedience. Her mind was on the edge of madness. And the human, without fully realizing it, had become her new Dominator.
Kaelira closed her eyes, feeling the brainwaves burn like sweet fire through her flesh, and whispered to herself:
"One day… I will choose."
And that day would be the moment of extreme change.