It had sounded so simple, here, now, reality, it was not simple, not at all.

If only he had asked, she had never lied to him, no matter how embarrassed, she had told him the truth. But he had never asked, and she had been too afraid, and now it was too late.

The girl sat watching the box, the lid open, wrapping paper ripped, shredded in eager anticipation. Now she sat, across the room, eying the box, thinking. Before her on the table lay her laptop, the messenger window open, last nights conversation still visible, mocking her, the words typed with such anticipation, her own words mocking her. His words echoing inside her head. He had commanded, she would obey, had to obey, needed to obey.

They had talked for weeks, months even if she counted their first meetings in the chat-room, she counted them, she counted everything. Slowly they grew together, little by little every chat, every message drew them closer. He took his time, held her back from rushing, forced her to let their relationship develop, forced her to put friendship before need, trust before lust. He was everything she wanted, everything but fast. Day by day she felt the trust forming, like a warm coat on a cold day, he let her move, explore, but kept her warm, safe.

Her friends talked of cyber-sex, she thought of his messages; her friends talked of cam-sex, she thought of his voice, the deep calm voice. Her friends talked of swapping names, swapping partners, swapping roles, she thought of swapping addresses, his and hers, but his first, he insisted. Her friends giggled over meaningless chat-room antics, she said nothing, they would not understand, she did not understand, not fully, not enough to explain it, but she felt it, felt his influence, that deep calm voice that once a week made everything worthwhile.

She had expected sex, feverish fingering whilst typing, or the phone to her ear, one shoulder holding it whilst she moaned and touched, pinched and cried out. He never asked, never hinted, he wanted more, she wanted more. Little by little he flexed his control, never to fast, never too much. The girl accepted his lead, let him guide her, obeying him.

Often she was frustrated, impatient for the next step, the next task. Always he controlled the pace, never revealing the next step, never promising anything more, always she understood there was more, much more, but only at his pace, only if she earned it, only if she completed the current task. The current task, the open box, the task.

The girl sat watching the open box, eying it as she undressed slowly, drawing out the time as if somehow the task would grow easier with time. She knew better, had learned not to wait, not to delay, she had once, never again. She did not fear him, she feared his displeasure. He had taught her the lesson, a lesson so simple it seamed obvious, she failed him when she failed herself.

At first it felt strange to be naked, now it felt right. It had become natural, not because he watched her, just because he ordered it. She had offered, so many times she had offered, lain at night thinking of him watching, fingers fast and sticky, thoughts racing, hips bucking, imagining, pretending, laying spent, wishing he would agree, thankful he did not.

He sent her books, she read them. He sent her clothes, she wore them. He sent her the box, she opened it. What lay inside was a hand written note, her task. Beneath the note, wrapped and ready lay the belt, the dildo, the lube and the timer.

She knelt, careful to do so properly, exactly, then lifted the note and laid it on the low table, open like her legs, she read, quickly first, then slowly, taking note of every detail. Seeing the words on the screen had been bad enough, seeing the note was far worse, it was right here, right now.

Time to obey. Taking the dildo and the timer she walked slowly to the door, turned off the lights, and moved to the balcony door, the glass door all that separated her from the night. His instructions were clear, simple, allowing no room for error, the girl obeyed, licking the suction cup she pressed the dildo to the glass, set the timer and began.

Her tongue spread saliva along the dildo's length, lips parting, jaw opening as she took it in, slowly, carefully, deeper, deeper, in her mind recalling everything he had taught her. Eyes closed she concentrated, tongue curling as she bobbed her head, taking a little more each time, feeling the dildo filling her, the head deeper and deeper. She gagged, spluttered, fought back the bile, tasted the bitterness, swallowed, and tried again, and again, and again.

Kneeling there, hands clasped behind her back, the girl sucked upon the dildo, trying to obey, wanting to obey, needing to obey. In vane she took it deeper, gagging, choking, tears in her eyes, bile in her mouth, fire in her heart. Opening her eyes she looked through the saltiness, looked at her reflection, taking in everything, everything but the damn dildo. Unwilling to surrender she kissed the head, licked the shaft, catching her breath, thinking.

Lifting up a little she leaned forward, head tilted back, smile widening her lips slipped down the shaft. Slower this time, gently, until she felt herself about to gag, then a deep breath, forcing herself to swallow as she pressed forward, the dildo deeper, the head in her throat, muffling her cry of relief as it slid deeper still, until her lips closed around the base. Eyes open now she rocked back slowly, pride in herself, exhaling then taking another breath, breathing in the dildo, swallowing, lips sliding down the shaft, saliva coating it all the way to the base. Eyes open she smiled and bobbed, bobbed and smiled, deep breaths, swallowing the slick shaft over and over until the buzzer sounded.