Raziela
Elaborate furniture filled the space, each piece clearly designed for intimate activities. Silk restraints hung from ornate posts. Cabinets lined the walls, their glass fronts revealing collections of items I had only heard whispered about in the most scandalous conversations. Everything looked elegant, expensive, and explicitly s****l.
My face burned with embarrassment as I stood in the doorway, uncertain what to do first. The room seemed to pulse with a dark promise, its very atmosphere heavy with implied sensuality.
I forced myself to enter, keeping my eyes focused on practical matters. The room required thorough cleaning as dust covers needed removal, surfaces required polishing, linens needed changing. I could treat this as any other cleaning assignment, despite the room’s
