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I open my eyes to an ivory man clad in fur. I’m drunk in his aura. The chains on my ankles are heavy and painful. I wobble side to side as he lifts me from the silk bedding on the cold cement floors. He whispers to me, but I do not hear him. His voice becomes clearer as he removes the gag from my mouth. I attempt to moisten my lips and tongue. I hear him perfectly now; he calls me by some name, Ater. Is it mine? No, it can’t be. He grips my neck and slowly slides his tongue from my chin to my shoulder. A sharp pain hits me along with a burst of pleasure. Blood spills from my shoulder. Am I dying? The man clad in white fur becomes foggy, slowly fading black.
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