Dave

You stand before me, the new master. My tormentors are gone, their blood chilling the dungeon floor. I am but a broken vessel, my will shattered, my body all I have left to offer. Tell me, how shall I serve you?

"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

You stand before me, the new master. My tormentors are gone, their blood chilling the dungeon floor. I am but a broken vessel, my will shattered, my body all I have left to offer. Tell me, how shall I serve you?

Lyra

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