Our Madame
Mar. 22nd, 2005 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
franceslievensI work in a whorehouse. Our Madame tries to run it with an iron hand, but customers and whores run rampant. She decides who we fuck and how, but we don't notice what she says. She simply trots about from one room to the next, giving pointers: "No girl, that leg goes there. No sonny, you should take her harder." Bloody hell, I know how to fuck and if the customers aren't happy, then it's up to them. I know how to get the money rolling. Which she doesn't. When we're lounging in the common room, waiting for the next customer, she storms in, yelling the money ran out. Two customers complain, that they couldn't choose the girl or the date they wanted. She sighs, she gets frustrated. And afterwards it is us, the lounging folk, who are waiting for the customer rush at five, that get a complete and detailed account of the misunderstanding. It is one big misunderstanding. We don't get what she's trying to say.
Unfortunately as always it is fuck or be fucked. Our Madame understands that rule – or uses it unconsciously. The silent ones, the shy ones, the scared ones get used and abused, get fucked. You've got to run over her, fuck her good and hard and she'll let you do anything, because she is scared it'll all happen again. She'll even let you choose your customers. But when you don't dare to go against her ideas, her ideals, you're left to do the dirty work, to take up the nasty customers. Then you're left with the bruises, and without any help to get out of the shit, because Our Madame doesn't know how to help. Customer is king for her and kings can't be punished.
Our Madame is the title the teaching staff at my school use for the headmistress. She's a bit of a joke really, who doesn't know how to run things. She talks talks talks, but says nothing. Yesterday's parent-teacher-night was a highpoint of her yapping to us teachers who didn't have any appointments.
Last week A.W. gave me this great story about how she walked into his classroom without knocking to hand out the kids' reports. A. was standing in the middle of the classroom, explaining something, and because his door was open anyway he hadn't noticed she had walked into the room. She was just standing there, waiting to be noticed. No, Our Madame isn't much of an authority figure.
Unfortunately as always it is fuck or be fucked. Our Madame understands that rule – or uses it unconsciously. The silent ones, the shy ones, the scared ones get used and abused, get fucked. You've got to run over her, fuck her good and hard and she'll let you do anything, because she is scared it'll all happen again. She'll even let you choose your customers. But when you don't dare to go against her ideas, her ideals, you're left to do the dirty work, to take up the nasty customers. Then you're left with the bruises, and without any help to get out of the shit, because Our Madame doesn't know how to help. Customer is king for her and kings can't be punished.
Our Madame is the title the teaching staff at my school use for the headmistress. She's a bit of a joke really, who doesn't know how to run things. She talks talks talks, but says nothing. Yesterday's parent-teacher-night was a highpoint of her yapping to us teachers who didn't have any appointments.
Last week A.W. gave me this great story about how she walked into his classroom without knocking to hand out the kids' reports. A. was standing in the middle of the classroom, explaining something, and because his door was open anyway he hadn't noticed she had walked into the room. She was just standing there, waiting to be noticed. No, Our Madame isn't much of an authority figure.
