Her feet

“I’m the Red Queen now," Martha tells you, lifting her hand to brush through her thick red hair, "and more importantly your queen.” Her hand moves back down, both of them now resting on her shapely hips. She looks you up and down, assessing you. “So, that means I’m in charge of you now and you must do my bidding.”

She point at the thickly-carpeted floor. “Now, kneel before me, worm, or face the consequences.”