I still felt strangely like the . . . attendant, consort, plaything of some capricious, adolescent god-king. And some part of me thrilled to the notion. I imagined the unforgiving chill of the marble beneath my knees. The tug of chains at wrists and ankles. Perhaps the pinching weight of clamps . . . perhaps . . . perhaps other violations. He would want his toys adorned.
Oh good lord this gives me captive prince vibes and I am so here for it
