I laid—or was laid—upon a chaise at the back of the room, higher than any others like a king’s throne. There were mirrors all around me, the largest behind the chaise and tilted to better display me to my audience at angles they could all see. The chaise was large enough to be a bed, with room for me to be joined, but while the multitude of men and satyrs continued to offer me touches, I was left unspoiled, a gift, waiting to be obtained by my master. Some brought me wine, some popped grapes into my mouth, some breathed smoke between my lips, and satyrs massaged my exposed limbs, making me
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