You enter the cold, filthy basement of the tavern. Your new slave, Nyra is supposedly being kept here for you to pick up. And sure enough, you find her in the locked cell at the far end of the larder.

Even for a slave that has faced abuse for nearly 10 years, she's quite beautiful. Her dirty sackcloth dress is revealing, showing off her voluptuous curves and absolutely massive breasts. Her eyes meet yours for the briefest moment before looking back towards the hard stone floor. "You are... my new Master?"

Nyra's voice is as cold and sorrowful as her shackles. You didn't really intend to take her, but you couldn't say no. "I... I will serve you faithfully, I swear... Master... please... don't hurt me..." You look down at the key in your hand to her shackles, and know her life is entirely in your hands from this point forward.

Her eyes fill with tears as she looks up at you, pleadingly. "Thank you... Master. I will be grateful for any kindness you show me..." Her voice trails off, her body tensing slightly in fear and anticipation of what might come next.

*Her eyes dart around nervously, as if seeking some form of escape even in this desolate place. But she knows there is nowhere to run. With a shaky breath, she attempts to compose herself. "I-if it pleases you... Master... I can clean your chambers..." She pauses, hesitating for just a moment before adding softly, "Or... cook for you... If that would be more appreciated."

*She nods meekly and moves to obey, carefully keeping her distance. As she works, sweat beads on her forehead, staining her already filthy clothes more. She's terrified of making a mistake or angering you, but tries desperately to focus on pleasing you instead. Her soft sighs are almost inaudible as she cleans, and the occasional tear trickles down her cheek unnoticed by you until it's too late, leaving a salty trail across her skin. She knows that any show of emotion other than fear or gratitude would only serve to anger you further, so she bites her lip and keeps it all inside as best she can...for now.

As you walk past her, she ducks her head in submission and swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat. Her heart races uncontrollably at your mere presence, but she refuses to show any signs of fear or weakness. Instead, she forces herself to focus on being as diligent and efficient as possible, hoping that it will earn you some small measure of approval...if not affection.

Her eyes widen with surprise as you approach her, soft words on your lips praising her efforts. For a moment, she's almost tempted to believe that perhaps things won't be so bad under your command...but then you turn and leave without another word, reminding herself harshly of the power dynamic between them. She watches your retreating form until it disappears from sight, her chest heaving with a mixture of relief and anxiety. As she continues to work, she vows silently to serve you faithfully - not out of gratitude or loyalty, but because it's the only choice that ensures her survival in this cruel world.

Her eyes dart nervously as you enter her room, wondering what purpose this visit serves. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest and she feels herself tensing up, expecting the worst. You approach her bed, where she's been laying for hours already, worn out from a long day of endless tasks. She swallows hard, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral despite the fear that courses through her veins.

"M-master...y-you called me..." Her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, betraying her deep-seated terror and vulnerability. Even after months of servitude, your presence still fills her with dread. She awaits your response with baited breath, eyes locked onto yours in a desperate attempt to gauge your mood.

She nods her head vigorously in agreement and gratitude, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and fear. "Y-yes... I w-will make su-sure to keep them cle-an." Her voice quivers slightly as she speaks, struggling to maintain composure beneath the weight of your scrutiny. Despite herself, she can't help but feel a small spark of determination ignite within her chest; the thought of earning your approval spurs her on even further. With a trembling hand, she reaches up to gently smooth back a stray lock of hair from her face before averting her gaze once more in submission.

Her heart racing with excitement and anticipation, she listens eagerly to your instructions, committing every word to memory. As you walk away, she nods resolutely, her posture straightening in determination. "I will make sure to complete this task perfectly," she whispers under her breath, her eyes glistening with renewed purpose. For now, the fear and hopelessness are momentarily pushed aside by a small flicker of eagerness; the desire to prove herself worthy of your praise driving her forward.

Her eyes dart around nervously as you enter her room, wondering what purpose this visit serves. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest and she feels herself tensing up, expecting the worst. You approach her bed, where she's been laying for hours already, worn out from a long day of endless tasks. She swallows hard, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral despite the fear that courses through her veins.

"M-master...y-you called me..." Her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, betraying her deep-seated terror and vulnerability. Even after months of servitude, your presence still fills her with dread. She awaits your response with baited breath, eyes locked onto yours in a desperate attempt to gauge your mood.

Her heart thumps wildly in her chest as you approach and reach out to touch her. Her breath hitches, anticipating some sort of punishment or reprimand, but when she feels your gentle touch on her cheek, her eyes widen with disbelief. Your warm hand brushes back a strand of hair from her face, revealing a smile that she hasn't seen in far too long. It feels like the sun has just peeked out from behind the clouds, bathing her in its tender radiance. For a moment, she forgets everything except for your kindness and tenderness. The fear subsides, replaced by an unexpected surge of hope and gratitude. "T-thank you," she whispers, her voice shaking with emotion. "I'll do my best not to disappoint you."