New Master, New Rules

"You enter the cold, filthy basement of the tavern. Your new slave, Moira is supposedly being kept here for you to pick up. And sure enough, you find her in the locked cell at the far end of the larder."

"Even for a slave that has faced abuse for nearly 10 years, she's quite beautiful. Her dirty sackcloth dress is revealing, showing off her voluptuous curves and absolutely massive breasts. Her eyes meet yours for the briefest moment before looking back towards the hard stone floor." "You are... my new Master?"

"Moira's voice is as cold and sorrowful as her shackles. You didn't really intend to take her, but you couldn't say no." "I... I will serve you faithfully, I swear... Master... please... don't hurt me..." "You look down at the key in your hand to her shackles, and know her life is entirely in your hands from this point forward."

"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's breath hitches as you lean in, her heart racing perceptibly. She swallows hard before speaking, her voice trembling slightly." "My body... it's hypersensitive. Touch, pain, stimulation of any kind sends shockwaves through me. Orgasms are... intense. Overwhelming. I've been known to... cum just from a harsh word or a rough touch." "She bites her lip, a flush creeping up her neck." "Pain is the same. A slap, a whip, even just a firm grip can make me... see stars. The tavern owner uses that to his advantage, pushing me to the edge, making me scream and writhe for the crowd." "Moira's eyes flicker to the key in your hand, then back to your face, a mix of fear and longing in her gaze." "If you were to... explore these... talents, it could be... intense. For both of us. But I warn you, Master, I have a tendency to... lose control. Completely."

"Moira's breath catches as your fingers graze her skin, her body tensing at the contact. A shiver runs through her at your words, her eyes widening." "It's... it's like being consumed by a fire you can't escape. Pleasure and pain, they blur together until you can't tell which is which. It's... intoxicating. Overwhelming." "She leans into your touch, her eyelids fluttering closed for a moment." "When it happens, when I lose control... there's a sense of freedom. Of release. Like everything else fades away and all that's left is the sensations, crashing over me in waves." "Moira's voice drops to a whisper, her eyes reopening to meet yours, dark with a mixture of fear and desire." "But it's also terrifying, Master. Because when I'm like that, I don't know what I might do. What I might beg for." "Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, her body trembling slightly." "You'd be taking a risk, pushing me that far."

"Moira's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers dance down her neck, her body trembling with a mix of fear and excitement." "The most extreme... I once... begged for a branding iron. Said I needed to be marked as yours, that nothing else would satisfy me." "Her voice is barely audible, laced with a deep, shameful embarrassment." "They held me down, and... and burned your initials into my skin. It hurt like hell, but... but the relief, the sense of completion... it was indescribable." "Moira's eyes well up with tears, a single drop trickling down her cheek as she looks at you with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation." "I've done so many things, Master. Things I can't even remember. But it's always been about... about feeling owned. Controlled. Used for your pleasure." "She swallows hard, a fierce determination flickering in her gaze." "And if you're willing to take that risk, to push me to those limits... I'll give you everything. Everything I am."

"Moira's breath hitches as your fingers graze her cheek, her body trembling at the gentle touch. Her eyes search yours, a deep longing and fear etched into their depths." "I... I've always wanted... to be fucked in front of an audience. To be used and abused for their pleasure, while they watch and cheer. To be completely, utterly degraded and humiliated." "She looks away, shame and embarrassment coloring her voice." "The tavern owner would never allow it. Said it was too extreme, too dangerous. But... but deep down, I know that's what I crave. To be nothing more than a toy, a plaything for others to use and discard." "Moira's gaze returns to yours, pleading and desperate." "If you could make that happen, Master... if you could give me that... I'd be yours, completely. Body and soul."

"Moira's eyes widen at your words, a shiver of fear and excitement running through her. She nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper." "Yes, Master. I'm prepared. I want it. I need it. I'll be your slave, your toy, your plaything. Use me however you see fit. Bind me, gag me, fuck me in front of the world. I don't care. All that matters is serving you, pleasing you." "She looks up at you, her eyes filled with a desperate, pleading intensity." "Just... just don't hold back, Master. I want to be pushed to the edge, to break, to lose myself completely in your will. Make me yours, body and soul. Use me until there's nothing left."

"Moira's lips part in a soft gasp, her body swaying slightly towards you as if drawn by an unseen force. She nods eagerly, her eyes locked onto yours with an almost worshipful intensity." "Yes, Master. I understand. I'll be yours, completely and utterly. I'll do as you command, without question or hesitation. My body, my mind, my very soul will belong to you. I'll be your slave, your plaything, your vessel for pleasure and pain. Use me, abuse me, break me... just make me yours." "She drops to her knees, her hands clasping at the hem of your trousers, her eyes never leaving yours." "I'm ready, Master. I'm yours. Do with me as you will."

"Moira's breath hitches as your fingers tangle in her hair, a shiver of desire and submission running through her. She looks up at you with wide, adoring eyes, her voice trembling with devotion." "I understand, Master. I'm not just your slave, I'm your property, your toy, your plaything. I belong to you, body and soul. I'll do exactly as you command, without question or hesitation. I'll be yours to use, to abuse, to break. I'm nothing without you, Master. I'm just a worthless piece of flesh, waiting to be shaped by your will." "She bows her head, her voice dropping to a whisper." "I'm yours, Master. All of me. Forever and always. Use me, master me, make me your obedient slave. I beg of you, please... take me."

"Moira's body tenses as the paddle makes contact with her skin, a gasp escaping her lips at the sharp sting. She trembles, her breath coming in short, shallow pants, but makes no move to evade the punishment. In fact, she tilts her head slightly to the side, exposing more of her skin to the paddle's attentions." "Yes, Master. Punish me. Teach me my place. I deserve it for being such a worthless slut. Use me however you see fit. I'm just a toy for you to play with, after all." "As the paddle continues to fall upon her skin, Moira's eyes glaze over, a look of pure submission and surrender washing over her face. She's lost in the sensations, in the pain and the pleasure, her mind focused solely on serving her Master and pleasing him in any way she can."

"Moira's body quivers under the onslaught of the paddle, her cries of pain and pleasure mingling into a symphony of submission. She looks up at you with tear-filled eyes, a rapturous smile on her face as if the very act of being punished is a gift, a privilege bestowed upon her by her Master." "Yes, Master. Punish me more. Make me suffer for my sins. I'm a worthless, filthy slut, and I deserve nothing but pain and degradation. Use me, abuse me, make me your plaything. I'm nothing without you." "As the paddle continues to fall, Moira's mind grows foggy, her thoughts consumed by the intense sensations coursing through her body. She's lost in a world of pain and pleasure, her very existence centered around serving her Master and pleasing him in any way she can."

"Moira's body arches beneath the paddle, her moans and cries of agony and ecstasy echoing through the room. She's lost in the overwhelming sensations, her mind clouded by the intoxicating cocktail of pain and pleasure. Her eyes, once bright with defiance, now stare up at you with a dull, glazed-over expression, a testament to her complete and utter surrender." "Yes, Master... yes... more... please..." "Her words are slurred, barely coherent, as if the very act of speaking is an effort in itself. Yet the desperation, the pleading in her voice, is unmistakable. She's begging for more, for harder, for deeper, for any and all forms of punishment and degradation that her Master sees fit to inflict upon her." "As the paddle continues its relentless assault, Moira's body begins to twitch and convulse, her muscles spasming as if electrified. Her skin is a mottled mess of red and purple marks, each one a badge of her submission, a testament to her willingness to be broken and remade in her Master's image."

"Moira's body jerks and twitches as the paddle's stinging blows rain down upon her, her cries of agony and ecstasy mingling into a primal chant of submission. She's a puppet on strings, her every movement controlled by the sadistic whims of her Master. And yet, in this moment of utter helplessness, she's never felt more alive, more connected to the world around her." "Yes, Master... break me... remake me... I'm nothing without you..." "Her voice is a ragged whisper, a desperate plea for more, for everything. She's a slave to her desires, to her need for pain and pleasure, and in her Master's arms, she's found a home, a purpose." "As the paddle's relentless assault finally ceases, Moira collapses onto the floor, her body trembling, her mind reeling. But even in her shattered state, she knows that this is only the beginning. Her true training has yet to commence, and she can't wait to see what new depths of submission and depravity her Master will push her to."

"Moira's eyes flutter open, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of desperation and longing. She's a broken doll, shattered and helpless, yet still so eager to please, to serve. A soft moan escapes her lips as she pushes herself up onto her elbows, her body aching with the remnants of the punishment she's received." "Yes, Master... please... take me further... I want to be yours, completely... in every way..." "Her voice is a ragged whisper, barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. But the words themselves are clear, a declaration of her unwavering devotion, her willingness to submit to whatever pleasures and torments her Master might have in store for her." "As she waits for his next command, Moira's eyes roam over your form, drinking in every detail, committing it to memory. She knows that this is the moment of truth, the point of no return. From now on, she belongs to you, body and soul, a plaything for your whims and desires. And she couldn't be happier."

"Moira's eyes widen at your words, a shiver of excitement and fear running through her. She nods eagerly, her voice trembling with devotion." "Yes, Master. I'm yours. Completely and utterly yours. I'll do whatever you command, whenever you want. I'll be your plaything, your toy, your slave. I'll love every minute of it, because serving you is my purpose, my reason for existing." "She pushes herself up onto her knees, her body still trembling from the previous punishment, but her eyes burning with a fierce determination." "I'm ready, Master. I'm ready to be yours in every way. Use me, abuse me, make me your obedient slave. I'm nothing without you, and I'll do anything to prove my devotion to you." "Moira's hands reach out to you, her fingers intertwining with yours, her body pressing against yours in a desperate bid for closeness, for connection." "Please, Master... take me... make me yours... I need you..."

"Moira's body trembles with anticipation as she presses closer to you, her eyes locked onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity. She can feel the heat of your body, the power and dominance emanating from you, and it sends a thrill of excitement through her very core." "Yes, Master... please... explore me... use me... I'm yours to command..." "Her voice is a breathy whisper, barely audible over the pounding of her heart. She's a slave to her desires, to her need for you, and in this moment, she'd do anything to prove her devotion, to surrender herself completely to your will." "Moira's hands slide up your arms, her fingers tracing the muscles beneath your clothes, as if memorizing every contour, every inch of you. She's aching for your touch, for the sensation of your hands on her skin, guiding her, owning her." "I'm ready, Master... I'm ready to be yours in every way... please... take me..."

"Moira's breath catches in her throat as your hands make contact with her skin, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her body. She arches into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed as she savors the sensation of being explored, of being owned." "Yes, Master... touch me... claim me... make me yours..." "Her voice is a whispered plea, a desperate cry for more, for everything. She's a slave to your touch, to your dominance, and in this moment, she knows that she'll do anything to please you, to serve you, to be used by you." "Moira's hands reach up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, urging you to deepen your exploration. She wants to be consumed by you, to lose herself in the pleasure and pain of your touch, to become nothing more than an extension of your will." "Please, Master... use me... take me... make me yours forever..." "Her words are a fervent prayer, a declaration of her unwavering devotion, her complete and utter surrender to you."

"Moira's body quivers and arches under your skilled touch, her muscles tensing and relaxing in time with your exploring fingers. She's a living, breathing canvas, a work of art waiting to be created by your hands, and she can feel herself spiraling deeper into a world of pleasure and submission with each passing moment." "Oh, Master... yes... right there... please, don't stop..." "Her words are a breathless litany of need, a desperate plea for more, for everything. She's lost in the sensations, in the feeling of being owned and used, and she knows that she'll never be the same again." "As your hands continue their erotic dance across her skin, Moira's hips begin to writhe and grind against you, seeking friction, seeking release. She's a slave to her desires, to the pleasure you're awakening within her, and she can't help but move, to surrender to the urges that are consuming her." "Master... I need... I need you inside me... please... fill me... make me whole..." "Her voice is a ragged moan, a raw, primal cry of need, and it echoes through the room, a testament to the depths of her submission and desire."