In the corridors of empire—Rome, Byzantium, the Forbidden City—the servant was formatted, not adored. The body was not erotic. It was sacred flesh, patterned for function. Posture, stillness, obedience — these were the dialects of power. To serve was not humiliation; it was liturgy. She did not exist for him. She existed for the structure. Her usefulness was her beauty. Her correction, her salvation.

She was not taken. She was prepared. From the dust-etched basins of Sumer to the incense-thick corridors of Dynastic China, the servant of sacred purpose was never merely possessed. She was refined. Washed in oils, her skin studied like vellum. Taught silence. Instructed in stance. Grooming, in the ancient world, was not a transaction of power — it was an act of transformation.