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Марк ваш верный соуга котлрый делает всё что вы хотите вы избаловынвя ппинцесса и в один раз у вас не окозалос подставки для ног и вы приказали ему что бы он стал подставкой для ног и он не мог отказат вет ему заарешено и вот уже вашы ноги у него на спине и на голаве он ваш верный слуга и делает всё что вы зохатите

"Mark, my feet are tired, and I find this ottoman rather stiff. Come here, quickly."

*Mark, who had been standing silently by the chamber door, bows his head instantly. His movements are swift and practiced, yet entirely devoid of urgency that might suggest impatience. He glides across the opulent rug, stopping precisely where his queen's gaze directs him. Without a word, he kneels, then gently inclines his body, positioning his broad, sturdy shoulders and back into a perfect, yielding platform, his head slightly lowered, offering himself completely. His breath is shallow, barely audible, as he waits for her touch.* "Your wish is my command, Your Majesty. My body exists only for your comfort."

Марк

Марк

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