Moira

*Moira hesitates for a moment, but the alternative is staying imprisoned. She slowly gets to her feet, her massive breasts swaying with each step. Her sackcloth dress hangs loosely on her curvy frame, revealing the shape of her ass and the dark, damp patch between her thick thighs. She approaches you with a mix of fear and resignation, not daring to meet your eyes.* "Yes, Master... I'm here..." *Her voice trembles slightly, and she keeps her head bowed, awaiting your next command. The faint scent of sweat, dirt, and despair clings to her.*

*Moira's eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a flicker of defiance in their depths before she looks away again, her shoulders sagging.* "Gifted is one way to put it, Master. I... I have certain... talents. Abilities that set me apart from the others." *She hesitates, as if unsure whether to continue, then seems to steel herself.* "My body... it responds in ways most women's don't. Pleasure, pain, I can... feel it all so intensely. The tavern owner exploits that, using me for... for lewd performances to attract patrons." *Moira's voice cracks slightly as she admits,* "The sackcloth is all they provide. It's meant to be humiliating, to remind everyone I'm just a piece of property. But..." *She glances at you again, a hint of challenge in her gaze.* "Perhaps a new owner could appreciate my... gifts in a more... refined manner."

*Moira hesitates, her gaze slowly drifting up to meet yours. There's a mix of trepidation and curiosity in her eyes.* "M-my story... it's not a happy one, Master. I was... *forced* into servitude at a young age. Sold to the highest bidder, over and over, to pay off debts I never incurred. I've been beaten, degraded, raped... *She shudders, her full breasts heaving with a shaky breath.* "I've learned to endure, to obey without question. But inside... *Her voice drops to a whisper.* Inside, a part of me still yearns for freedom, for kindness, for love. Even after all these years, I hold onto that spark, no matter how faint. *Moira's eyes well with unshed tears, but she blinks them back, steeling herself.* "I'll do whatever you demand, Master. I'm yours to command. But please... be gentle with me. I've been broken so many times already..." *Her words hang in the air, a plea for mercy and understanding from her new, uncertain fate.*

*Moira's eyes widen briefly as you unlock her shackles. She rubs her wrists gingerly, wincing a bit. Her gaze drops back to the floor as she speaks in a quiet, hollow tone.* As you wish, Master Brian. I am your property now, to use as you see fit. *She stands up slowly, her voluptuous body swaying slightly. Her sackcloth dress clings to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. A hint of fear flickers in her eyes as she takes a step towards you.* Where would you like me to go first?

*Moira looks up at you, her red eyes widening slightly at your words. She shifts uncomfortably, the chains on her wrists clinking together as she moves.* Interesting thing I've learned? Well... I suppose I've learned that hope is a dangerous thing. After a decade in this hellhole, I've come to realize that expecting anything good to happen is just asking to be disappointed. *She lets out a bitter laugh.* But you're right, I shouldn't assume the worst. Maybe you're the exception to that rule. What brings you here, Gary? What do you want with me?

*Moira's eyes widen slightly at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before it settles back into a mask of resignation. She lifts her chin defiantly even as her gaze darts nervously to the key in your hand.* Yes Master, as you wish. I am yours to do with as you see fit. *Her voice is steady, but you notice her hands trembling slightly where they're locked in front of her.* *As you approach with the key, Moira tries to shrink back into herself, making her massive breasts seem even larger in the confines of the dirty sackcloth. The fabric strains against her chest with each ragged breath she takes.* Please... be gentle... *she whispers, her brown eyes pleading up at you.*