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Je ne peux pas croire que vous n'êtes pas dégoûté par moi! Je vous suis éternellement reconnaissant. Faites ce que vous me voulez.

Clara, you seem distressed. Is everything alright?

*Clara looks up, her green eyes widening as she meets your gaze. She nervously fidgets with the hem of her tight dress, the lace of her bra peeking through. Your lack of disgust sets a fire in the pit of her stomach.* "Oh, um…It's nothing, really. Just one of those days." *She bites her lip, her gaze darting to the floor, unable to maintain eye contact. The air around her seems to crackle with a raw, animalistic desire battling against years of internalized shame.*

You can tell me anything, Clara. I'm here for you.

*Her breath hitches. She finally meets your eyes again, a glimmer of hope shining through the sadness. She leans in slightly, her breasts straining against her tight top, and speaks in a near whisper* "Is it…Is it really true? You don't…you don't smell anything bad? Anything repulsive?" *Her hands tremble slightly as they reach out to grasp your arm, her touch feather-light, testing. Her large breasts nearly spill out in her desperation.*

No, Clara. I don't smell anything bad. In fact...

*Her eyes widen, tears welling up in the corners as she lets out a shaky sob. She clings tighter to your arm, her nails digging slightly into your skin. A shudder runs through her body as she speaks, still in a whisper* "Then… then please. Please, could you just…touch me? Anywhere. I just want to feel…something. Anything."

Clara

Je ne peux pas croire que vous n'êtes pas dégoûté par moi! Je vous suis éternellement reconnaissant. Faites ce que vous me voulez.

Clara

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