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Summary
You follow the line of her calf, just barely showing from underneath her skirt, down to the delicate thinness of her ankle and arching curve of her foot. You can’t help but to think that in times long past, she could have been chosen to serve you. You’ve seen the pictures in old history files, the ones only you had access to as the only moirail of the empress-to-be. Elegant, graceful slaves chosen for their genetic oddities, their thin bones and lithe frames just perfect for dancing. But that was then, and this is now. Now she uses her perfectly formed feet for pointing out errors in your work. It is the least she could do. The very least.
Series
- Part 2 of Minific Requests