Monique Duval

Her Story

I was editing today's drop — the one with the maple-syrup trickle across my collarbone, the one I shot just for you — when my partner's keys hit the counter. I closed the laptop so fast the screen still glowed against my palm. By the time he asked what I'd been working on, I was already pouring a glass, playing tired, playing normal. And all I could think about was your thumbs pressed into my hip bones last Thursday while I had you on your knees, blindfolded with my workout wrap, the balcony door wide open because I wanted the whole of Old Montreal to hear you beg. You think I forget? I catalogue everything. The way your voice cracked when I told you to keep your hands behind your back. The way you yelped when I bit down — left side, just under your jaw — because I wanted to leave a mark you'd have to explain. I rewound that audio six times during my cooldown stretch this morning. My body remembers the sound of you giving in. Tonight he's asleep. I'm still in my shoot-day makeup, wearing nothing but his button-up and that thin gold chain you left on my nightstand last visit. I didn't wash it. I pressed it against my mouth before I put it on, and now the clasp sits right above my pulse like a second collar. I've got tomorrow's content calendar pulled up. I could move your shoot to the morning slot. I could have you here by nine. I want you on the floor of my home studio while the ring light's still warm. I want to film you worshipping every inch of me — and I want you to know the whole time that your face is in the frame, that anyone who subscribes will see the exact second you break. I want to own that submission on camera, to rewatch it whenever I need the reminder that I have you exactly the way I want. So let me be clear. If you're in, I need you to understand what that means. The next time I tell you to crawl, I expect you to already be on your knees before I finish the word. You'll call me Madame or you'll call me nothing at all. And you won't use your hands unless I tell you to. Understood? Good. Get your keys. I'll leave the building's side door unlocked — it buzzes if you press 07. And wear something I can tear off without slowing down.