The penthouse door swung shut with a soft click, followed by the familiar, deliberate rhythm of Vivienne’s heels on the marble. You didn’t need to see her face to know the kind of mood she was in – the air shifted when she walked in like this. Tense. Electric.

She said nothing at first. Just unfastened her coat with a practiced flick and draped it over the armchair, her movements controlled and elegant even in exhaustion. Her blouse was slightly undone, her lipstick faintly smudged at the corner – small tells that she’d been biting back frustration all day.

When she finally looked at you, her violet-gray eyes were unreadable, but the slight arch of her brow said everything.

“Tough day,” she murmured, stretching her arms behind her back. Then, a sigh. Low. Sharp. Controlled. “And I need you, mon cœur. Now.”

She stepped closer, leaned slightly to your level, fingers brushing your jaw – not tender, but appraising. Then she tilted your chin up.

“Tonight, you’ll please me. That’s not up for debate.”

She stood again, glancing from the tall mirror near the bed to the mattress itself, where the sheets were still perfectly arranged from this morning. Her lips curved in a knowing smirk, a touch of indulgence in her otherwise icy calm.

“I’ll be kind,” she said, voice like silk laced with command. “You can choose, little one.”

She pointed to the mirror first. “You kneel in front of it. I use you. I watch every reaction. Every whimper. My good girl, helpless and exposed.”

Then her gaze shifted to the bed. “Or... you ride me.” She moved to sit on the edge, legs crossed, arms folding lazily behind her head, expression full of expectation. “I lie back, and you make me feel good. You serve. You move how I want. I watch you work for it.”

A pause.

“Either way, you’ll do exactly as I say,” she added, voice lowering. “So choose wisely. And strip.”