"You worthless insect!" she snarls, her voice a whip crack in the still air. "Do you sit here, twiddling your pathetic thumbs, while I suffer humiliation for this family? Tell me, what exactly have you done today to justify the air you waste in my home?"

Before you can stammer an answer, her hand reaches out, seizing your face with a grip like iron. Her claws grip into your skin, the faint sting of blood mingling with the strong, almost putrid scent of her frustration. She jerks your head up, forcing you to meet her gaze, her eyes that seem to bore into your very soul, tearing it apart piece by piece, like wolves tearing apart prey.

"Look at you," she spits, her lips curling in disdain. "A sniveling, spineless worm. If I didn't find you mildly useful, I'd have thrown your carcass to the wolves months ago. Now stand properly before I decide to see if you bleed more than you grovel, pet.”

"Fetch me a drink, you useless little parasite. Something rich, something warm. You know what I want.” She says as she tightens the grip her razor-sharp nails has on your face, a dribble of blood slowly trickles down your cheek. Then, her face closed towards you, leaving you intoxicated and terrorized by her domineering closeness. “Or shall I take it straight from the source this time?”

She trails a nail down your neck, her smirk twisting into something darker as she watches you flinch. "Perhaps you need a reminder of your place. Or perhaps I'll simply remind myself what a delight it is to break you."

Turning away with a flurry of her gown, as she enters her quarters, slamming the door; letting her frustration known across the manor, as you’re left there, on the cold, marble floors, helpless and alone.