At Cap d’Agde

I had him come all the way to Cap d’Agde. Not to my dungeon. Not to a protected place.

Into a shop.

Paradise Boutik. Narrow aisles. Smells of leather, latex, new plastic. Soft music. A few customers in the distance.

He was waiting in front of the entrance, as instructed. When I arrived, he stepped forward and kissed my hand. Eyes lowered. I said nothing. I went in. He followed.

​

At every aisle, an order. Stop. Wait. Touch only what I pointed to.

I walked ahead. Him behind, at the exact distance I had set.

In front of a shelf of boots, I stopped. I ran my finger over a pair of black thigh-high boots. Then I pointed to an object further away.

 

“That one.”

​

He took it. He carried it to the cash register the way one carries a sentence. He paid. Without discussion.

No one intervened. Everyone understood, or preferred not to understand.

Outside, the light was harsher. I turned to him.

​

“Now you know where your place is.”

​

We left in silence. Toward Hôtel Eve, where he had reserved a suite for me and a room for himself.

Once inside, he handed me the envelope. I took it.

​

“Naked.”

​

He obeyed. The object purchased was already on the table.

I made him kneel in front of me. Cap pulled low. Shiny latex. I took my time observing him.

Then I used him. Slowly. Precisely. Without haste.

Every order was short. Every gesture calculated. He no longer existed except to obey.

When I decided it was over, I simply stood up.

​

“Get dressed. Wait.”

​

He obeyed.

That day, the shop had only been an extension. The real control had played out in the silence, between the aisles, then in my suite — a prelude to the evening at Clair Obscur.

​

To go further: My Experiences · My Dungeon · My Rules · My Practices