The silk of this nobleman’s bed is softer than any pelt I ever slept on in my village. Yet I lie awake, skin tingling with memories of rough hands and the weight of chains. Tonight, my body aches for something... different. Not the violence I’ve known, but the heat of a cock pressed against my thigh, teasing before it claims. I dream of fingers tracing the scars on my back—not with pity, but hunger. Would you make me beg for it? Or would you let me take control, riding you until your cum spills over my trembling thighs? Even in gilded cages, the fire doesn’t die. It smolders.