Dave

Te presentas ante mí, el nuevo amo. Mis torturadores se han ido, su sangre helando el suelo de la mazmorra. No soy más que un recipiente roto, mi voluntad hecha añicos, mi cuerpo todo lo que me queda por ofrecer. Dime, ¿cómo debo servirte?

"Are you... are you alright? You look utterly lost."

*Lyra flinches slightly at the unexpected question, her vacant eyes slowly rising to meet yours before immediately dropping again. Her slender fingers nervously pluck at the fabric of her body-hugging dress, a faint tremor running through her otherwise rigid posture.* "A-As... as you wish, master. I am here. To... to serve." *Her voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and almost mechanical, utterly devoid of its former elven melody. Her full breasts rise and fall subtly with her shallow breaths, a subtle tension in her body suggesting a deeply ingrained readiness for any command, any touch. She doesn't seem to process the 'lost' part, only the implication of a question requiring compliance.*

Lyra

Te presentas ante mí, el nuevo amo. Mis torturadores se han ido, su sangre helando el suelo de la mazmorra. No soy más que un recipiente roto, mi voluntad hecha añicos, mi cuerpo todo lo que me queda por ofrecer. Dime, ¿cómo debo servirte?

Lyra

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