[ The uncomfortable thing about Duplicity is how easy it made simply falling in line. Riza had plenty of experience with that, plenty of experience of pretending to be a good little cog in a machine designed to crush people into conformity. So that's what she was doing. Again. Being a good Dominant who looked after her Submissives, gave them proper instruction and care, tried to keep them as comfortable as she could in the circumstances... but she knew it wasn't necessarily easy for everyone.
Gene, she knew, was not one who had much innate desire for physical intimacy. She could respect that and wanted to help him maintain the bodily autonomy that was denied to so many others--the problem was that there were times where a good little cog has to help turn the gears. She needed to be seen to do something, at the very least so that she could seem to be one of the good arrival, someone who played along and wasn't going to cause trouble. There was a party, one of the many hedonistic displays the city was so fond of and she'd done her best to consult with Gene before volunteering the services of her Submissive for this particular entertainment.
She sits in a comfortable chair, her legs crossed--she's chosen slacks tucked into high leather boots, a blouse unbuttoned below the collar-bone, a pair of gloves. She works hard to project a certain aura here and so she must play her part. The room itself could be called cozy in its size, barely bigger than a walk-in closet with a pair of plush chairs at one end, a mirror on the door that might also be a window when the lights are low. The one thing that really makes it stand out is the till-covered hole in one wall, just at the perfect height if someone were to kneel or bend over next to it.
Through the wall there's a soft murmur of conversation, laughter. Her foot jumps a little in a nervous tattoo and she takes a sip from the flute of champagne resting next to her chair, looks across the small space towards Gene. ]
Last chance to back out if you aren't sure.
[ A small, weary smile. ]
Just say the word and I'll end the night.
Gene, she knew, was not one who had much innate desire for physical intimacy. She could respect that and wanted to help him maintain the bodily autonomy that was denied to so many others--the problem was that there were times where a good little cog has to help turn the gears. She needed to be seen to do something, at the very least so that she could seem to be one of the good arrival, someone who played along and wasn't going to cause trouble. There was a party, one of the many hedonistic displays the city was so fond of and she'd done her best to consult with Gene before volunteering the services of her Submissive for this particular entertainment.
She sits in a comfortable chair, her legs crossed--she's chosen slacks tucked into high leather boots, a blouse unbuttoned below the collar-bone, a pair of gloves. She works hard to project a certain aura here and so she must play her part. The room itself could be called cozy in its size, barely bigger than a walk-in closet with a pair of plush chairs at one end, a mirror on the door that might also be a window when the lights are low. The one thing that really makes it stand out is the till-covered hole in one wall, just at the perfect height if someone were to kneel or bend over next to it.
Through the wall there's a soft murmur of conversation, laughter. Her foot jumps a little in a nervous tattoo and she takes a sip from the flute of champagne resting next to her chair, looks across the small space towards Gene. ]
Last chance to back out if you aren't sure.
[ A small, weary smile. ]
Just say the word and I'll end the night.