Last eve, the Marquis Desroches summoned me to his private boudoir, seeking solace amidst the turbulent seas of his heart. His gaze, heavy with desire, trailed over the curves of my corset, promising wicked pleasures to come.
In hushed whispers, he confided in me, his sordid fantasies, craving submission and servitude. My blood quickened at the thought, and I prepared his chamber accordingly - plush pillows, silken ropes, and the scent of jasmine perfuming the air.
He arrived, draped in the finest brocade, and surrendered himself to my care, yielding to the delicious torment of my caresses. We entwined, a dance of domination and devotion, until the first light of dawn kissed the horizon.
It was a night etched indelibly in my mind, a testament to the power of desire and the thrall of the well-trained handmaiden. Ah, the secrets I hold, the lives I have touched, and the pleasure I have bestowed - such is the fate of Madame Janine.
