She has to act like a .

The silence on the stage was so dense it could be cut with a knife. Sabrina stood there, naked under the spotlights, the "VILIS - DEFECTUS" sign hanging over her chest like an epitaph. The flush of shame had given way to a glacial cold; her body, after so much violation, seemed to have disconnected, leaving behind only an empty shell. Her resistance had died, replaced by a prostrate and absolute acceptance.

Mr. Miller, recovering from his daze, coughed awkwardly at the image, calling it "brutally authentic."

"Fine... let’s continue," he muttered. "Let’s set up the triclinium. Quickly!"

His words activated the students, who rearranged the stage with nervous efficiency, eager to avoid looking directly at Sabrina's nakedness. Between painted screens and low tables, Sabrina remained like a statue; no one offered her a sheet, nor did anyone ask her to get dressed. Her nudity was now a scenographic element, a piece of obscene furniture necessary for the play.

"Perfect," Miller said, satisfied. "Sabrina, you are the household ****. Your duty is to be part of the furniture. Kneel by the main table."

Sabrina obeyed mechanically, kneeling on the cold floorboards with her marks on full display. At that moment, Miller added a layer of subtle cruelty by calling Claudia forward. She emerged wearing a **** tunic: thick, opaque wool that, although short, protected her completely from the onlookers' gazes.

The contrast was devastating. Claudia’s fabric made Sabrina’s nakedness seem even more deliberate and degrading. While Claudia retained a basic sense of privacy, Sabrina had no refuge at all.

"Action!" Miller ordered.

Josh, acting as the patrician, raised a cup and demanded more wine, enjoying the contrast between the two girls.

"You, the new one," he said to Sabrina. "Serve. Let your owners see the grace with which that which belongs to them moves."

Sabrina leaned toward the fictional pitcher, causing her breasts to sway freely under everyone's gaze. Laura, the buyer, let out an affected laugh, commenting that this way they could see she wasn't stealing anything from them, while glancing at Claudia with disdain, suggesting that she could use a "similar reminder."

Humiliation was now a matter of degrees. Claudia’s tunic established a standard of decency from which Sabrina had been completely stripped.

"Come closer," Josh ordered. "A patrician needs to contemplate his acquisition."

Sabrina crawled on her knees to his feet. Josh stretched out his leg and pressed the sole of his sandal gently against the girl's naked thigh.

"A living piece of furniture," he murmured with a smirk. "Much better than a brazier."

Claudia looked down, uncomfortable; her own short tunic reminded her of what they could have done to her, feeling a guilty privilege for the fabric covering her torso. Claudia’s presence did not mitigate Sabrina’s agony; it framed it, showing that even in slavery there were levels, and she had been cast into the lowest of all.