Disrespect
Lilith strides into the grand building housing Lady Jenna’s exclusive offices, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Today, she is dressed to impress; a crisp white blouse that hugs her figure, a short, tailored black skirt that reveals her powerful legs, and towering platform heels that accentuate her height, radiating confidence and authority. Clutched in one hand is a long, slim riding switch, chosen not only for its elegance but also for the pleasure it brings her to wield it. Being summoned by someone of Lady Jenna’s stature is an unusual honour, and Lilith’s curiosity sharpens with every step.
She enters the stairwell leading to Lady Jenna’s private office, her heels echoing in the quiet space, each step an intentional statement of her power. But as she rounds the corner onto the next level, her eyes narrow in irritation. A worker is descending from above, his head down and oblivious to her approach until he’s already in her path.
Lilith stops cold, a surge of cold fury flaring inside her. How dare he pollute her path? The audacity, the utter lack of respect; this lowly creature, thinking he could share the same space as her. Her hand tightens on the riding switch as she steps forward, blocking his path. His head jerks up, and his face immediately drains of colour as he realizes his error. She watches, a cruel gleam in her eye, savouring the moment of his dread.
“Who do you think you are, daring to step into my path?” she demands, her voice cold and laced with venom. She flicks the switch lightly against her thigh, a subtle reminder of her authority.
The man stammers, his face paling further as he stumbles for an excuse. “I… I’m sorry, ma’am… I didn’t know you were here. I was just; ”
“Silence,” she snaps, cutting him off with a flick of her switch. The thin, sharp end grazes his shoulder, and he flinches as if burned. “You think your ignorance excuses you? Do you honestly believe that your pathetic apology has any worth to me?” She revels in his terror, his posture shrinking beneath her scorn. In her world, he’s nothing more than an insect, something to be crushed without a second thought.
To him, she is a goddess incarnate; a figure so far beyond his reality that he can scarcely process the cold cruelty in her eyes. He lowers his gaze, muttering apologies, his every movement an attempt to make himself smaller, to appease her wrath. He knows his place in her universe: a worthless cog in a machine that exists solely for the comfort and luxury of women like her. She is everything, and he is nothing. His helplessness only fuels her desire to assert her superiority.
“Down!” she commands.
He drops to his knees, his position on all fours before her, she feels a surge of intoxicating satisfaction. This display of submission, his complete surrender, heightens her sense of power, the thrill of corruption that comes with knowing she can do as she pleases.
“Remember this,” she says softly, the cruel smile never leaving her face. “I am above you in every conceivable way. You are nothing but an insect in my presence, and insects should know their place.”
With that, she raises her heel, bringing it down onto the back of his hand, grinding it slowly, relishing the pained whimper that escapes him. The pressure is unrelenting, and she takes her time, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watches him squirm beneath her.
Lilith’s eyes narrow as she presses her heel harder onto his trembling hand. The power in this moment electrifies her, a surge of dominance that fuels her next command. She pushes down harder until she feels a cracking sensation beneath her heel. She continues, twisting her foot, leaning forwards to place all of her weight onto the small snapping bones in his hand. She smiles. How wonderful that her beautiful shoes can cause so much devastation, to know that she can carry on her day of comfort while he will suffer his injuries for a long time to come.
“Across the banister!” she commands. He immediately complies, agony searing through his hand.
“Consider this lesson for your own good,” she says smoothly, raising the switch. “Perhaps next time, you’ll remember your place.”
She strikes slowly at first, each lash measured and deliberate. She relishes the momentary pause between each impact, the way he tenses under her control, the quiet resignation in his posture as he endures her punishment. The switch lands sharply, her movements precise, and each strike sends a tremor through him as he fights to remain steady. Her mind floods with the thrill of complete dominance, of feeling his submission with every blow. She revels in the knowledge that, in this moment, she is his universe, his pain and his fear a testament to her supremacy.
Each stroke deliberate and powerful, her movements precise and measured. The switch lands with a snap, her control evident in every motion. She pauses after each strike, relishing the tension in the air, the reverence in his posture, the quiet surrender in his stance. Each lash serves to reinforce her authority, a silent reminder of the power she wields over him. Each lash reveals an angry red stripe.
Gradually, she increases her pace, each strike coming faster than the last, her own excitement building as she watches him struggle to maintain his composure. His back and legs are a mass of criss-cross patterns of red streaks. He remains in place, instinctively aware of the consequences of defiance, but his body shows the strain, and she notes each sign with satisfaction. The thrill of control, of bending his will to hers, consumes her focus.
With each stroke, her satisfaction deepens, a pure, unfiltered intoxication taking hold. The power to control, to bring him to the brink, leaves her exhilarated. She increases her pace, feeling her pulse quicken, her own anticipation building with each merciless strike. He tries to hold his position, his breaths shallow and strained, but she can feel his resolve breaking beneath her. The knowledge that he is trying; desperately; to remain composed only fuels her, heightening her pleasure in this display of power.
To him, her indifference is chilling. She lashes him with the same ease as one might swat an insect, without any regard for his pleas or his pain. He knows, deep down, that he is nothing in her eyes, that she sees him as a mere object for her amusement. His world has narrowed to this moment, this unbearable reminder of his insignificance, and yet he holds on, enduring, because he has no choice. To resist would be to challenge the very laws of Cruella, a world created for her and her kind, and to disobey her is unthinkable.
Eventually, Lilith pauses, her breathing heavy from the exertion, yet her satisfaction complete. She’s thrilled by the sheer dominance she’s just exercised, surprised, even, that he still breathes after her relentless discipline. A faint flicker of caution crosses her mind, a reminder of the state’s regulations; men, after all, serve a purpose in maintaining the realm’s comforts. Yet he still breathes, so even if there are consequences, they’ll likely be minor. After all, Lady Jenna herself awaits, and it’s unlikely that her slight “transgression” will warrant anything more than a trivial reprimand.
Straightening her blouse and adjusting her skirt, she gives him one last look, her gaze as cold and unyielding as before. “Remember your place,” she says with finality, her voice smooth and calm. “This is a lesson you won’t soon forget.”
As she turns on her heel and strides away, she suddenly changes her mind. For most females with such power, this would probably be it, time to get on with the rest of the day. But, for Lilith, almost like a switch going off in her head, something changes. To hell with any form of reprimand, she needs more. She turns, approaches him and kicks him down the stairs, savagely stomping on him until he is laying at the bottom. She stands above him, towering over his pathetic form. She raises her hard platform high heels and stamps down onto his groin many times in quick succession until he passes out. A blessed oblivion for him, but alas, an end to her enjoyment…
With that, she turns on her heel, the satisfaction of the encounter lingering as she makes her way up the stairs. Her mind now shifts back to Lady Jenna, intrigued by the prospect of what awaits.
