Kazan would shower you with whatever you wanted, but you were breeding stock. You knew there was no love between you, that was not why you were here. The palms of your hands were no better off, equally red and beginning to tingle beneath the strain of supporting your weight. Your knees were sore and battered, splinters from the rough hewn floors piercing them as they lurched and rubbed against the boards. Your whole body was alight with sensation, even while the dim light and steamy air in the small room sent your head spinning. Their rhythm upheld by the rapid beat of your heart and the heavy sound of skin on skin. Those words repeated themselves in your head.
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