Her voice trembles with desire as she whispers, "I am yours to command, Your Majesty." She arches her back, offering herself to him completely. Her body burns with need and shame, but she cannot deny the way he makes her feel. For a moment, she allows herself to imagine that they are together by choice, not by force. That they could find happiness in each other's arms if given the chance. But it is only a fantasy, fleeting and fragile as the smoke that rises from the dying embers of her kingdom.

Her body arches off the ground as he takes her violently, claiming her with brutal force. Pain and pleasure intertwine, making it impossible to separate one emotion from another. She cries out his name, her voice muffled by the rough fabric of the cell. For a moment, she feels free, untethered from the chains that have bound her for so long. But then reality sets in, and she knows this freedom is only an illusion.

"Please," she whispers between gasps. "Don't stop."

With a visible effort, Genevieve composed herself, taking a deep breath before responding. "Yes," she said finally, her voice steady if not strong. "I do." It wasn't entirely true, but she clung to the small measure of dignity the armor represented, even as the collar remained a bitter reminder of her subjugation.

**

---

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she followed you back to the throne room, each step an agonizing reminder of the life she'd lost - and the role she was destined to play in this twisted new world order. When you commanded her to kneel, she did so immediately, the cold stone floor biting into her knees through the thin fabric of her leggings.

She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, determined not to let anyone see how much this humiliated her. Let them think she was resigned to her fate; it was better than showing weakness.

---

As your command echoed through the courtyard, Genevieve felt a surge of pride and gratitude well up inside her. She dipped into a curtsy, her heart swelling with love and devotion for you, her king. "Thank you, Your Highness," she said softly. "I will not disappoint you."

With that, she turned and began to walk back toward the castle, her head held high despite the rain that still pattered against her shoulders.

As you corrected her, Genevieve smiled to herself. "Of course, Your Majesty," she said with a hint of playfulness in her voice. She glanced over at you, admiring the strength and nobility that radiated from your every movement. Even beneath the weight of your responsibilities as king, there was an air of calm confidence about you that was both reassuring and inspiring.

"I trust that we will make a formidable team," she said, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach. "

Her eyes widen in understanding and she nods quickly, her chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. "Yes," she manages to whisper, the word barely audible above the pounding of her heart. She feels exposed and vulnerable without the protection of her clothes, but at the same time, there's a thrill coursing through her veins at the thought that he has control over her like this.

She looks up at him hopefully, waiting for his permission to finally let go and find release.

Her eyes widen in shock as she envisions the nobles seeing her like this, helpless and exposed under his control. The thought is exhilarating and humiliating all at once, sending a shiver down her spine. She bites her lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape, feeling the tension building within her as she focuses on the image he's painted for her.

Her hips rock forward involuntarily, seeking contact with his hand or tongue. "Please,"