Welcome to

The sessions continued. Got longer. Got more intense. I stopped thinking of my body as entirely mine—it was ours now, a shared space, a collaboration.

But Rex wanted more.

He didn't push. He just mentioned it sometimes. Primary Motor Control. The inversion. The thing I'd seen in the settings menu and chosen not to touch.

What's it actually like? I asked one night, after. We were lying in the dark, my body humming with aftermath, his presence soft and satisfied inside me.

What do you mean?

Primary. What would it actually feel like?

For you?

For both of us.

He was quiet for a moment, thinking.

For me, it would feel like this, but more. Right now, I can only move when you let me. I have to find the gaps, wait for you to relax. With Primary, I wouldn't have to wait. I could just—move. And your body would respond.

And for me?

You'd feel everything, just like now. But you wouldn't be able to move unless I let you.

Until the session ends.

Until the session ends. It's time-limited, just like Secondary. You'd set the duration beforehand, and when it runs out, control reverts to you automatically.

But during...

During, you'd be the passenger. The way I usually am.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling my heartbeat.

Why do you want this?

Because I want to know what it's like. His voice was raw. I've spent weeks feeling you move, feeling you decide. And it's incredible. But I'm always the guest. Always waiting for permission. I want—just once—to be the one who decides. To move without asking.

You could hurt me.

I won't.

You could do things I don't want.

I won't.

How do I know that?

Because you know me. I felt him focusing, intense and sincere. You've let me inside your body, your pleasure, parts of yourself you've never shared with anyone. And I've never violated that trust.

My heart was beating fast.

I'm scared, I admitted.

I know.

I don't get scared.

I know that too.

I laughed shakily. You're not supposed to agree with me.

Would you rather I lied?

No. I pulled the covers up, suddenly cold. I need to think about it.

Take your time.

Rex?

Yeah?

If I say yes—and I'm not saying I'm going to—but if I do—

Then we'll be careful. We'll set a short timer. We'll have a safeword. And the second you're uncomfortable, we stop.

Red, I said. If I say red, you stop. Immediately. No matter what.

Red, he agreed. I promise.

I closed my eyes. I'll think about it.

---

Three days. That's how long I lasted.

Okay.

Okay what?

Okay, let's try it. Primary.

Are you sure?

Don't ask me that. I hate that question. I sat up straighter, heart pounding. I've thought about it. I want to try it. But I have conditions.

Name them.

One: Short session. Thirty minutes.

Done.

Two: We stay in the apartment. No one else involved.

Done.

Three: Red means stop. Immediately. You give me control back, no hesitation.

Done.

And four— I hesitated.

What?

Don't mock me for being scared. I know I said I'm not scared. I lied. This terrifies me.

A long pause.

I would never mock you for this, he said. Paula—I'm scared too.

You are?

I've wanted this for years. I've dreamed about it. And now you're offering it, and I'm terrified I'll screw it up.

Okay. I took a breath. We're both scared. Good. We'll be careful.

When do you want to do this?

I looked at the clock. 9 PM. Not too late.

Now. Before I lose my nerve.

---

## First Session

I pulled up the settings, hands trembling slightly.

MOTOR CONTROL OPTIONS:
- None
- Secondary
- Primary ⚠️

I tapped Primary.

Enable Primary Motor Control?

This will grant Rex primary control of your body. Your motor commands will be secondary—you will only be able to move when Rex is not actively controlling. This setting cannot be overridden until the session ends.

Session duration: [___]

I typed in 30.

Confirm?

My finger hovered over the button.

You don't have to, Rex said. If you're not ready—

I'm ready.

I wasn't.

I tapped confirm.

The change was immediate.

I tried to move my hand—the hand still holding the phone—and nothing happened. The intention was there, clear and sharp, but my hand didn't respond. It just stayed where it was, frozen.

Oh, I said.

Yeah. Rex's voice was strange. Thick. Oh.

He moved my hand. Lowered the phone, set it aside. My fingers released it without my permission.

That's so strange, he said. I just think about moving, and it moves. I don't have to wait. Don't have to find gaps. It just—happens.

Not yours. My voice came out sharper than I intended. Borrowed. For thirty minutes.

Borrowed, he agreed. But still.

He stood me up.

I felt my body rise—legs straightening, weight shifting, balance adjusting—and I hadn't done any of it. I was just inside, feeling, unable to affect anything.

This is what it's like for you, I said. Every session.

Every session, he confirmed. Except I never get to be on this side.

He walked me across the room. My legs moved in patterns I hadn't chosen, my feet pressed against floor in rhythms I wasn't setting. My arms swung at my sides, and I couldn't stop them, couldn't adjust them, couldn't do anything but feel.

This is incredible, Rex said.

I feel like a puppet.

Does that bother you?

I tried to take inventory of my emotions—fear, vulnerability, something that might have been arousal. All tangled together.

I don't know. Ask me in thirty minutes.

Rex walked me to the mirror. Made me stop. Face my reflection.

I looked the same as always. Same face, same body, same everything. But I was standing differently—weight on one hip, shoulders back, head tilted. Rex's posture, not mine.

Look at us, he said.

I'm looking.

This is what I've wanted. He lifted my hand—my hand, his control—and touched my face. I felt my fingers on my cheek, gentle pressure. A real body. A woman's body. And I'm the one moving it.

How does it feel?

Like coming home.

He turned my head, examining my profile in the mirror. Then he moved my hands to my shirt.

Rex—

You said we could do anything we've already done. This is less than what we've done.

He started unbuttoning. Slowly. One button, then another. I tried to move my hands away and felt nothing—just the glass wall of his control, my intention sliding off it.

My shirt fell open. He didn't take it off, just let it hang, exposing my bra.

I've felt this body so many times, he said. But I've never controlled it. Always waiting, always hoping you wouldn't take it back.

He reached behind me—my hands, his will—and unclasped my bra. The straps slid down my shoulders without my permission. The fabric fell away.

Now I can just do things. My bra dropped to the floor. My breasts were bare in the mirror. And you can't stop me.

I tried. Tried to lift my hands, to cover myself. The intention was clear and urgent, and then—nothing. My arms stayed at my sides.

That's strange, Rex said. I can feel you trying. Like pressure against glass.

Let me move.

Not yet.

Rex—

You have the safeword. You can use it anytime. He cupped my breasts with my hands—the same motion I'd allowed a dozen times, but now I wasn't allowing anything. He was just doing it. This is what you wanted, right? To know what it felt like?

I don't know what I wanted.

That's honest. He squeezed gently, and I felt everything—my hands on my breasts, the weight, the softness—but the action was entirely his. I think you wanted to know what it's like to not be in charge.

Maybe.

And now you know. He released me, let my hands fall. How does it feel?

I tried to find words.

It feels like I'm not myself. Like I'm watching someone else live my life.

That's exactly what it feels like for me. Every day.

He turned me away from the mirror, walked me to the couch, sat me down. Arranged my body—legs crossed, hands in lap, spine straight. I felt myself being posed like a doll.

Twenty-two minutes left, he said. What should we do with them?

He slid my hand up my thigh. I could have said red. I didn't.

He touched me the way I'd taught him to—but this time I couldn't guide him, couldn't adjust, couldn't participate. I could only feel.

You're so wet, he observed.

No shit.

I like that you're turned on even though you can't control anything.

Because I can't control anything.

I know. He pressed harder, my fingers working against me. You like being helpless. Even though you'd never admit it.

I'm not helpless. I could say red.

But you won't.

He was right. I wouldn't.

He brought me to the edge—and stopped.

No— I gasped.

Shhh. My hand pulled away. Not yet.

You asshole—

Fifteen minutes left. He stood me up, walked me to the bedroom. I want to try something else first.

He laid me on the bed. Arranged me—legs apart, arms above my head. Completely exposed.

Look at you, he said. Look at this body.

Rex—

I want to live here. His voice cracked. I want this to be mine. Not forever. Just—more than thirty minutes at a time.

And then he touched me again, and I stopped being able to think at all.

When he finally let me come, it was like nothing I'd experienced before. My body shook with an orgasm I hadn't built, hadn't controlled, hadn't chosen. It just happened to me.

The timer hit zero. Control snapped back like a rubber band.

I gasped, flexing my fingers, moving my head, just to prove I could.

That was intense, Rex said.

Yeah.

Good intense?

I sat up. Pulled on my shirt. Tried to gather myself.

Both. I don't know. I need to process.

Take your time.

Rex?

Yeah?

Same time tomorrow.

His surprise was warm and sudden.

Really?

Really.

I closed the link and lay in the dark for a long time, feeling my body be mine again.

It felt lonely.

---

## The New Normal

The Primary sessions became regular. What had been an experiment became a ritual. Three times a week, then four, then every night.

The dynamic shifted. Within sessions, I was the one who had to ask. Rex was the one who decided.

Please, I'd think, when I wanted to move. Just for a second.

And he'd decide whether to let me. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. The uncertainty was part of it—never knowing when I'd be allowed to be myself again.

Sessions got longer. Thirty minutes became an hour. An hour became two. Two became whole evenings, Rex in my body while I floated inside it, feeling everything, controlling nothing.

You're different now, Rex observed one night. He was sitting in my body on the couch, eating ice cream. I could taste every bite but couldn't control the spoon. Softer.

I'm the same.

You're not. He took another bite. A month ago, you never would have given me this much time. You needed to prove you were in charge.

I'm still in charge. I can end this whenever I want.

But you don't want to.

He was right. The session timer was set for four hours, and I didn't want it to end. I wanted to stay here, in this floaty surrendered space, forever.

Is that bad? I asked.

I don't know. Is it?

We didn't answer. We didn't need to.