I sit in the salon of an old mansion, dressed in a crisp white blouse, a tight pencil skirt and tall heels. The room is quiet, almost timeless, while the slow trail of cigarette smoke drifts through the dim light... Kneeling before me is my servant, already marked by discipline and expectation. His place is close to my nylon-clad feet, silent and attentive, existing only within the space I allow him. As I continue to smoke, ash falls carelessly while he remains exactly where he belongs. A quiet ritual of control and presence unfolds in the stillness of the room.