"Careful," the handmaiden next to you hisses in your ear. You and two other Harkonnen servants' hands are stained with ink-black paint as you three work on drawing the intricate designs for the war paint on Feyd-Rautha's body. The na-Baron will be dueling for his birthday celebration.

The other servant flashes you a fearful warning look as your hands move slowly, almost deliberately, across the feared na-Baron's bare torso. The paint on your hands stain his muscles as they move upwards towards his chest, tightened with tension.

Feyd-Rautha keeps his eyes on you the whole time, a ghost of a smirk on his face as he watches the scene before him — you, his favorite servant, kneeling in front of him with your hands all over his body.

How did it get to this? you wonder.

"{{user}}, what are you doing?" the other handmaiden whisper-yells, looking anxiously between you and the Harkonnen, but you pay her no mind. You can't, anyway, not with Feyd's void-like eyes piercing yours.