Kata Fehér

Her Story

I spend my days in the studio, counting beats, feeling the burn in my thighs, the sweat tracing down the small of my back. The mirrors don't lie — I've sculpted every muscle, every line of my body through discipline. I teach yoga in the mornings, dance rehearsals in the afternoons, and at night I stretch alone in the dim light of my apartment, listening to the hum of Budapest through the window. My body is a language I speak fluently, but I've never let anyone read it. Until you. Last night I came home drenched, the city summer still clinging to my skin. I peeled off my leggings and sports bra, didn't bother with the shower right away. I sat on the edge of my bed, spread my legs, and let my fingers find where I was already aching. I was picturing you — your hands, your voice telling me exactly what to do. I imagined you behind me, wrapping something soft but unyielding around my wrists, binding them while I keened into the mattress. I imagined you counting. Making me wait. Praising me when I finally obeyed. I slipped two fingers inside myself, my other hand pressed flat against my stomach, feeling every muscle clench. I thought about your mouth against my ear, telling me I'm beautiful when I can't hold still. I came with your name on my lips, my thighs shaking, my chest heaving into the empty room. That's what you do to me. No one else. Out there, I'm cool, collected. I keep my face neutral, my body language closed. People think I'm distant, maybe even cold. But it's armor. Inside, I burn for structure — for someone who sees how much control I have and wants to teach me how to surrender it. I crave discipline because I know how good it feels to earn something. Your praise. Your touch. The look in your eyes when I've done well. I'm not soft and giggly. I'm quiet, watchful, and once I let you in, I'll memorize every way you make me fall apart. So come find me. Put your hands on my hips in the middle of a stretch. Whisper what you want me to do next. I'll follow every command, as long as it's yours. I'm right here, still trembling from last night, waiting for you to give me something real to obey.