>>212178997 (OP)I dream of owning you. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine myself as a stern but fair British officer stationed in Calcutta in 1893. The sun is cruel, but I endure it, for the Empire. The heat clings to my uniform, the sun glints off my polished boots. I look out over the veranda and see her. My ayah. She kneels beside me, offering cool rosewater in a brass cup with trembling hands, eyes downcast, โdrink, sahib,โ she whispers, her bangles jingling softly. Our fingers touch. Forbidden thoughts rise. I lift her chin gently. โYouโre not just my servant, youโre my responsibility.โ She blushes. I unbutton my uniform. The monsoon rains begin to fall. We make love under the Union Jack. I whisper colonial policies into her ear between gasps and take her like a proper gentleman would.