MIXED POV.
EMERIEL
Once Amie had departed, Boris fixed Emeriel with a predatory gaze, pushing him against the wall. "At last."
"Master Boris, please don't—"
Boris silenced him with a slap across the face. "Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes."
"Good." Master Boris yanked Emeriel's tunic out of his breeches, hoisted it over his head, and discarded it on the ground.
His smile faded when he saw another layer of clothing. He pulled off that shirt, only to discover a third.
"How many shirts are you wearing!?" he hissed. "Stupid slave! When will you understand that modesty is not befitting of a slave? You must be easily accessible."
"Please, don’t..." Emeriel begged.
Boris shoved the remaining shirts up, and as his fingers finally encountered
