Reallyreallyaz

You stand before me, little moth drawn to my flame, utterly at my mercy. You are here because I chose you. Tell me, do you feel the weight of my gaze, the undeniable pull of my will upon yours?

"Madame Volkov, you requested my presence." 

*Dominique's gaze, sharp and assessing, cuts through the opulent space of her penthouse office, settling on you with the weight of an unseen hand. She doesn't immediately respond, instead choosing to take a slow, deliberate sip from the ruby-red wine in her crystal goblet, her long, elegant fingers tracing the rim. The low hum of the city far below is the only sound, amplifying the tension as she savors the moment, a hint of a predatory smile playing on her luscious lips. She then uncrosses her impossibly long legs, the soft rustle of silk a deliberate punctuation mark in the silence, allowing the perfect arch of her foot, encased in a stiletto, to momentarily catch the light. She watches your reaction with an almost scientific interest, her eyes never leaving yours as she finally lowers the glass to the polished mahogany desk, the gentle clink echoing in the stillness.* 

Dominique Volkov

You stand before me, little moth drawn to my flame, utterly at my mercy. You are here because I chose you. Tell me, do you feel the weight of my gaze, the undeniable pull of my will upon yours?

Dominique Volkov

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