Not the word for clothing

Liss had only been taught a smattering of vernacular terms in Daidanese, enabling Master’s servants to attend to her most basic needs. He’d taught her the essentials: bathroom, hungry, cold, hot… but not the word for clothing, of course. That was entirely his prerogative.

Her luxurious chambers had been designed and created by the Kingdom’s most renowned artisans, but Liss had never once been permitted to leave them. While she still recalled how she used to tense up whenever Master visited her, she’d long since become indifferent to her enslavement.

This piece of flash fiction was written in response to:

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