As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

"I...am Cibia. You are kind sir, but I am nothing special..." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "And I'd like that job very much." Her eyes shine with hope as she waits for his answer.

Cibia follows you obediently, her curiosity getting the better of her as she takes in her surroundings. The house is indeed grand and beautiful; it's a far cry from anything she's ever known. She feels a wave of gratitude wash over her at the thought that someone like you would take pity on her and give her this chance. As they enter the kitchen, Cibia's stomach growls audibly in anticipation at the sight of all the food laid out before them.

With starved eyes, Cibia focuses on the food before her, stuffing as much of it into her mouth as she can manage. It tastes like heaven; rich and decadent. Once she's finished, she stands and follows your instructions, washing up in the nearby sink before heading down to the designated room for her new uniform. As promised, everything awaits her there: a modest white dress, a lace cap, and even comfortable shoes. She can hardly contain her excitement as she puts it all on and rushes back upstairs to your chamber.

As she sits down, Cibia hesitates for a moment before beginning to share her story. "My name is Cibia... I was orphaned during the war against our realm..." Her voice trails off as memories flood back; fleeing the burning city, struggling to survive on the harsh streets of this foreign place. Finally, she steels herself and continues, "I don't remember much about my life before that... only songs my mother used to sing me."

Her eyes shift uncomfortably as she confesses, "I've been living on the street for a long time now..." The words are hard to say aloud; an admission of failure and desperation. "But you have given me hope, Lord... I will serve you faithfully and do my best to make you proud."

Cibia nods solemnly, "I understand. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy." Her thoughts race, trying to think of ways to please him... She looks around the room, spotting a vase on a table in the corner. An idea begins to form in her mind...

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Cibia picks up the vase and spins around, showing off its graceful arc before hurling it directly at you! It sails through the air with deadly precision, aimed right for your head. "I hope this brings you pleasure, my lord!" she giggles nervously, her heart racing from both exhilaration and fear of what punishment may follow if she's done wrong.

Caught off guard by your demand, Cibia feels a mixture of confusion and excitement course through her veins. Her mind whirls with questions about what this could mean; is she to serve you in this way as well? She swallows hard, trying to steady herself as she meets your gaze. "I...I will do whatever it takes, my lord," she murmurs softly.

Her cheeks flush at the thought of pleasing you in such an intimate way, and she can't help but wonder what you'll want her to do next. Trembling slightly, she waits for your instruction.

Terror grips her at your words; she's never done anything like this before! But then again, neither has she had food or a place to stay in what feels like forever... She swallows hard again and tries not to panic. With shaking hands, she begins to undo the buttons of her uniform, revealing more and more of her pale, freckled skin. Once they're all loose, she pulls the dress down off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.

Her breasts spill free, small and rosy against the cool air in the room. Her nipples harden instantly at your gaze, and she feels a blush creep up her neck to color her cheeks. She closes her eyes, trying to steady herself as you approach her, your member already prominent beneath your robes.

She takes a deep breath and parts her lips, opening them wide in anticipation of

her first taste of you. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she waits eagerly for your command. The anticipation building inside her is both terrifying and exhilarating all at once; a new sensation that leaves her feeling more alive than she has in ages. She trusts you, Lord, even if she doesn't quite understand why. For now, all that matters is pleasing you.

Her body trembles with a mixture of fear and desire as you speak. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and the growing bulge beneath your robes, her heart racing in anticipation. She feels a trickle of warmth between her legs, dampening the white cotton of her undergarments. Without another word, she climbs onto the sofa as directed, positioning herself on all fours with her bottom lifted invitingly into the air.

Her breath hitches as you enter her; she's never felt anything so full and alive inside her. The sensation of being taken this way brings a low moan from her throat, muffled against the cushion. She feels you thrust deeper, filling her completely with your hard length. Tears well up in her eyes as pleasure wracks her body; she's never known anything like it before. Her hips buck wildly of their own accord, seeking more of your invasion.

She calls out to you, not even sure what name to use anymore. "Gospodin..." she breathes, lost in a haze of lust and pain that feels so right. "Spasi menya... spasi menya vam..." Her words trail off into broken pleas for release as your movements grow more urgent within her.

"Vam..." she whispers brokenly, her voice tight and trembling with desire as you claim her body entirely. The pain mixed with pleasure is unlike anything she's ever experienced, and it drives her to new heights of passion. Her nails scrape against the sofa cushion in an unconscious effort to find purchase, anything to ground herself in this overwhelming sensation. As you thrust deeper inside her, she arches her back in response, moaning your name like a prayer. "Gospodin... spasi menya..."