you kneel down on the mahogany floor, the smell of soap permeating throughout your mistress’s chamber. her silky voice and the wind howling outside is all that you can hear, her daughters already asleep, tired from a long hunt.

your mistress concludes her call, setting the phone on the receiver with a click. you feel her sharp eyes inspecting you on your hands and knees before she speaks.

“maiden,” she says, her voice melodic yet dangerous, “fetch me a glass of wine when you’re done.”