You didn't kneel when I entered.
You simply folded--halfway, hesitating like the command was somehow implied but never fully earned. A weak impression of submission, not the real thing. I let the sound of My heels do the speaking. Each step sliced through the stillness, unapologetically sharp, marking the rhythm of control before I even looked your way.
I didn't need to acknowledge you. My presence is never uncertain.
When I take My seat, everything changes. Air thickens. Time slows. You feel it before you understand it. I crossed My legs with unhurried grace, letting one heel hover, the other rooted--anchored like a blade sunk deep. The arch emerged beneath the line of My calf, just enough to test your restraint. I didn't need to check. I already knew what that sliver of exposure would do to you.
Your posture stiffened.
Your gaze dropped, then scrambled back up like it had tripped. You were trying--desperately--to stay composed, but the quiet betrayal of your breath gave everything away. You weren't calm. You were unraveling.
I didn't speak.
I let the silence stretch. Let you watch. Let you falter.
Then I adjusted My leg--subtly, with intention--allowing the arch to glide further into the open. The stretch wasn't a performance. It was a reminder. I show only what I choose, and only when I'm satisfied with your stillness.
Still, you remained frozen.
Were you obedient, or simply paralyzed by fear of misstep? It made no difference. Either way, the effect was the same: complete submission without reward.
I released one slow breath and broke the quiet with a single word.
"Crawl."
You flinched--not from defiance, but from uncertainty, calculating the distance, unsure how near you were permitted to get. Still, you obeyed. Your body moved with hesitant effort, each motion smaller than the last. By the time you reached the edge of My space, you had diminished. The room hadn't grown--you had shrunk.
I offered no signal of approval.
I simply lifted My foot, heel first, letting the arch curve into view like it hadn't even noticed your presence. No flourish. No seduction. Just control manifested in the shape of flesh and leather.
"Closer," I instructed. "But don't reach."
You obeyed with care, inching forward in measured increments. I lowered My foot, the ball pressing slowly into the floor, each ounce of pressure deliberate. I spoke again, quieter this time, the words slicing through the air with a softness designed to disarm.
"You're here to crave. Not to touch."
You nodded once. That small gesture, I allowed. Because I could finally see it--the fracture forming. Hope fading into hunger. Want no longer tethered to expectation.
That's when I moved again.
The arch caught the light, catching your attention like a flame in the dark. Not a show. A revelation. A decision. And you watched, transfixed, as if it were the first real thing you'd ever witnessed. Your knees had halted, but your body betrayed the stillness. Micro-movements. Tiny shifts. The subtle lurch of your shoulders each time My toes adjusted. You were trying, failing, to control the desperate little mechanisms of need.
You hadn't begged aloud. But I could already smell the plea on your skin.
I let My heel tip sideways, toe angled toward you, the sole remaining just out of reach. Then I raised it again. Slowly. Calculated. Each motion sculpted to torment without granting satisfaction.
I wanted to see what you'd break to keep the moment alive.
Your breathing didn't quicken--it sharpened. Shallow draws pulled between clenched teeth, like holding still was draining something vital from you. I cast My gaze downward, offering no expression. No softness. No mercy.
"Don't shake."
The command wasn't cruel. It was precision. And you obeyed... poorly. Your entire frame tensed in rebellion. Your shoulders locked. Your jaw twitched. Your neck pulled taut, as if the need to collapse had become a physical burden.
I shifted again.
The sole tilted, revealing the curve in its entirety--the sculpted bend, the delicate crease where leather had met skin for hours. Not a scuff. Not a blemish. Nothing flawed. Everything about it was preserved, perfect, and entirely forbidden.
