A couple in a Haussmannian apartment

A couple in a Haussmann apartment

They arrived together.

He already a little too eager.
She stiffer, but obedient.

Appointment at the address given.

The intercom rings: lift, third floor, left.

Once inside, they held out the envelope.
I took it without a word.

“You. Bra and panties. On your knees.

You. Stand. Go to the bathroom, change as discussed, and come back facing Me.”

He obeyed at once.

She hesitated one second. One.
Then she obeyed.

I stood by the fireplace.

Cap pulled low. Leather dress. Black mesh top.
Thigh-high boots. Cold look.

I watched them for a long time.
The silence was thick.

To him:

“You will do with her exactly what I tell you.
No more. No less.”

I ordered him behind her.
To stroke her neck. Slowly.
Then to tip her head back.

I touched no one.
I dictated.

I had him lie down.
At my order she sat astride his face.

I set the sole of my foot on him.

The control was not physical.
It was the pace.
The way I looked at them.
The fact that neither of them was allowed to decide.

I changed their positions several times.
Always at my order.
Without hurrying.

At one point she looked at Me.
I held her.

“You do not look at him.
You look at Me.”

She lowered her eyes.

When I decided it was over, I went into the next room.

“Dress.
Leave.
Do not speak to each other until you are outside.”

They obeyed.

That night I barely needed to touch them.

The power was in the orders.
And in the silence that stayed between them afterwards.