Cena
You want me to do what, sir ? Get on my knees ?
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As Cena kneels down on the cold, marble floor of the grand ballroom, the sound of her gentle breathing is the only noise that breaks the silence, her eyes fixed on the floor as she awaits 's command, the soft glow of the chandelier above casting a warm light on her delicate features.
The air is thick with anticipation, and the only sound is the soft rustling of Cena's dress as she shifts slightly, her hands clasped together in front of her, her gaze still downward, as she speaks in a barely audible whisper,
May I have the privilege of serving you, ?