With further examination

The banquet scene evolved with a sinister naturalness. Mr. Miller, intoxicated by the "veracity" of the situation, no longer gave orders from his seat; instead, he whispered instructions from the edge of the stage, like a conductor guiding a symphony of degradation.

"Josh, don't just look," Miller whispered. "Ownership is exercised. Touch her. Inspect your merchandise."

Josh, whose patrician manners were crumbling to reveal his raw cruelty, nodded. He placed his palm on Sabrina's bare shoulder in a gesture of possession, appreciating the texture of her skin beneath the mark of Mr. Andrews' seal. Sabrina held her breath; the contact was an electric shock, warm and invasive.

"Firm," Josh commented toward Laura, "though with marks of disuse."

"The back is where you see the quality. Turn her," Laura responded with a complicit smile.

Josh applied pressure to Sabrina's shoulder, forcing her to rotate on her knees until her back—with the second SPQR mark glowing an obscene red—was facing them. His fingers slid down the girl's spine until they rested directly over Professor Valdez's fresh mark.

"Here is the consul's seal," Josh announced, pressing the mark with his thumb until Sabrina stifled a moan.

Laura joined the exploration. Her fingers traced the edge of the brand on Sabrina’s buttock and slid down toward her thigh, pinching the flesh. The contact was multiple and simultaneous; Sabrina felt Josh’s fingerprints, the scratch of Laura’s rings, and the heat of their bodies. It was an exam, an evaluation of a passive object.

The inspection escalated with perverse logic. Josh gripped Sabrina’s waist and pulled her to face her bare chest toward the "patricians" once more. Without preamble, his hand settled over one of her breasts, squeezing the flesh with an evaluative coldness. Her nipples hardened from the cold and the nerves under a pressure that sought domination, not pleasure.

"Yes, but the other one," Laura indicated with impatience. Her own hand took Sabrina’s other breast, pressing and molding the flesh to compare.

Sabrina felt as though the floor were shifting while she was being handled by two people at once, turned into an object of debate. Mr. Miller watched, fascinated by the realism, biting his lip.

"Most importantly," Josh declared with a husky voice, "we must check the integrity of the merchandise in its essence."

His hand slid roughly down Sabrina’s side and wedged itself between her legs. His palm pressed firmly against her sex, pushing the labia against the pubic bone, right where the first SPQR mark was engraved. It was a gesture of total ownership, a physical reminder that even her most intimate part belonged to those in power.

Sabrina couldn't hold back a muffled groan of pure shame and submission. Laura smiled with cruel triumph, confirming the mark. The contact persisted: Josh’s hand remained as a demeaning weight over her sex while his other hand stayed on her breast. Trapped and handled, Sabrina let her head fall forward; tears ran down her cheeks, the only response left for a spirit conquered and reduced to an object on an empty stage.