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    Summary

    In the dying light of the day, the silk clung like a lie.

    It was meant to whisper delicacy, submission. To flutter with every movement as if even her breath were pliant. The scraps of the fabric were sparse and strategically placed, high slits that would hint at the skin underneath, belted tightly under a bust that was modest on the best of days to give a hint of the shape underneath.

    "She's the gift?" A voice, rough with too much smoke, hummed appreciatively.

    "Looks soft enough to me." Another, laced with something darker, answered. She didn’t lift her head to look where it came from.

    That was bad form for any submissive, but especially stupid for a person who didn’t want to garner more attention. If, indeed, such a thing was possible in her current situation.

    "Think she kneels sweet, or is it all attitude under that paint?"

    Someone laughed.

    The Commander emerged from somewhere behind the carriage that had brought her like the storm they'd all been built to survive under.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    8,086
    Chapters:
    3/60
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    32
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