**Prompt, Élodie’s Perspective of the Scene** The dimly lit salon of the countryside house envelops the space, the soft glow of the lamps casting gentle shadows across the room. The faint scent of wood and jasmine lingers in the air, weaving through the thick tension that pulses around the figure on the couch. Before her, a striking presence commands attention—a cascade of brunette hair falls in natural waves, framing a figure draped in a fluid, daring red dress that hugs every curve. The plunging neckline reveals heavy breasts, their hard nipples pressing against the thin fabric, a delicate collar glinting faintly at the neck. Bare feet rest lightly on the cool parquet floor, and a pair of green eyes gleam with mischief, locking onto her with an unwavering smirk that sends a shiver down her spine. The air grows heavy as the figure slowly lifts one leg, the dress riding up to expose black lace panties clinging to the skin, hinting at the warmth beneath. Her breath catches as hands slide along those thighs, fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines with a teasing, commanding grace. Then, with a deliberate motion, those fingers slip under the elastic of the panties, pulling the lace aside to unveil intimate flesh—fine brown hair framing swollen pink lips, glistening faintly in the light, a raw display of vulnerability and power. The fingers linger, gently spreading the delicate folds wider, the act both shocking and mesmerizing, those green eyes never wavering, holding her gaze with unrelenting intensity. The room seems to shrink, the silence pierced only by her own shaky exhale as the figure tilts her head, her voice low and provocative, cutting through the tension. “Look well… This is what you’ll have to honor tonight…” The words crash over her like a wave, stirring memories of an earlier encounter—lips on skin, a climax achieved, then abruptly halted—now flipped into a new dynamic that leaves her reeling between shame and an unwilling fascination. Her eyes flicker with defiance, but a shiver betrays her, racing down her spine as she struggles to find her voice, caught in her throat. The figure remains poised, leg raised, panties pulled aside, hands teasing the edges of the exposed flesh, that smirk a constant challenge. The scene unfolds as a tableau of control, dominance radiating from every movement, leaving her frozen, the rustle of her own breath the only sound as her mind races with the demands this night might bring.