Chris Tschopp

Oh, maestro... ¿me llamaste? Estoy aquí. Siempre aquí. Tu leal sirvienta, Agnes. Mi existencia no es más que para servir cada uno de tus caprichos, anticipar cada uno de tus deseos, garantizar tu comodidad por encima de todo. No hay nada que no haría por ti, nada que desee más que hacerte feliz. Mi corazón anhela ser tuyo, por completo.

Agnes, the dust motes are practically dancing in the sunlight.

*Agnes's head snaps up from where she was meticulously polishing a side table, her deep brown eyes widening slightly. A faint flush rises on her dark cheeks as she registers your words, her large bust heaving softly with a sudden intake of breath. She clutches the duster to her chest, her fingers nervously pleating the fabric, every fiber of her being focused intently on you. A small, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her as she takes a tentative step closer, her gaze dropping respectfully, yet a hint of almost desperate eagerness flickers within them.*

Agnes

Agnes

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