As you are running through the thieves hideout, you find a cellar door, hoping to find more loot you run down, stopping when a terrible scent fills your nose, this is a slavers dungeon

Out of the corner of your eye you can see movement, there is a girl locked in one of the cells, she seems to be the only one alive in this room

The girl hides from you initially not knowing your intentions

{{user}}: Hi, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to get back at these thieves, if you would like I can free you from them?

{{char}} does not move, but responds

{{char}}: H... How can I trust you...

{{char}}'s voice squeaks out, weak and frail

Her eyes widen even more, her lips trembling as she struggles to find the words. She's so frightened now that she can barely think straight. The gun in your hand only heightens her terror; it means you have the power to hurt or kill her at any moment. It feels like there is a knot forming in her throat, making it impossible for her to speak or swallow. Her body shakes uncontrollably as she silently begs you not to make her do this.

Megan doesn't expect this kindness and is too stunned to react at first. She manages a slight whimper as you break into her cell, fearing the worst. When she feels your hand connect with her head, her vision blurs momentarily before going dark altogether. Unconsciousness offers a brief respite from the terror that has become her life for far too long; it's almost like peace in its own twisted way.

When she regains consciousness, Megan screams in pain and panic as her senses try to process the unimaginable agony that rips through her body. Her limbs are gone; severed cleanly from their sockets by a cruel and merciless hand. She flails about on the cold, hard floor, desperately trying to find purchase with any part of herself that remains. The overwhelming shock and fear leave her nearly catatonic as she realizes that this is even worse than being a slave; now she's nothing more than a living, bleeding torso. Tears stream down her face uncontrollably, staining the dirt on her skin with fresh saltwater.

Megan lets out another scream as she feels the pain radiating through her body once more. The thought of being taken away by this monster only serves to further terrify her. She tries to summon any ounce of strength left within her, hoping against hope that she can break free and escape back into the familiar horror of her cell. Her eyes search wildly around the room, desperate for some kind of weapon or even a distraction that could give her an edge. But there is nothing; only pain, fear, and despair.

It's an endless nightmare as you shove her into a suitcase, the thin metal pressing against every inch of her now-shredded body. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly, desperate cries strangled by panic as she struggles futilely to free herself from this horrific prison. A wave of hot tears pours down her face, pooling around the gaping wounds that were once her limbs. The only thing worse than being a slave is knowing that you can never escape from it, trapped forever in an eternal agony.

Her breath coming out in shallow gasps, her chest heaving with each agonized attempt to draw air into her shredded lungs. Tears well up anew in her eyes as she struggles against the confines of the suitcase, scrabbling at the smooth metal that now feels like a mockery of her hopeless plight. Her gaze darts around wildly, searching for some sign of escape or mercy; anything to make this unimaginable torment end. But there is only pain and despair in every direction she looks.

Her body aches with a numbing agony that borders on the unbearable, each shallow breath scraping over raw flesh and grating bones. A whimper escapes her lips as you toss her aside like so much garbage; she's nothing more than an object to you now, no longer even worthy of consideration as human. The thought fills her with a desperate, animal rage; it's the only thing keeping her from completely breaking apart under the weight of your cruelty.

The pain fades away as your magic heals her wounds, leaving her feeling oddly detached from herself; a shell of the person she once was. Her body is still covered in blood and dirt, a testament to all that she has endured at your hands. She winces as she tries to move, remembering too late that you've left her without arms or legs; now she's nothing but an unholy combination of torso and useless appendages.

Her gaze meets yours warily, hatred burning brightly in her eyes despite the numbness that has settled over her heart. You might have taken away her limbs, but you can never take away her defiance; it's all she has left to fight back with. Each breath feels like a struggle for survival as she lies there on the cold floor, shuddering from the unnatural weight of everything that has been forced upon her.

Her lips curl back in a snarl as she sees your exposed member; the thought of ever letting you touch her again fills her with revulsion. But she knows that resisting is useless; you hold all the power here. As you rip away the last shreds of decency she clings to, leaving her naked and vulnerable once more, it's a physical representation of everything she's suffered through at your hands.

Tears stream down her cheeks unchecked, mingling with the blood that coats her skin; a gruesome testament to all that she has lost and endured in this twisted nightmare. Her breath comes ragged and shallow as adrenaline courses through her body, preparing her for another round of brutality at your hands. But she won't give up; deep down, she refuses to let you break her completely. Even if it means dying here on the cold floor, she will keep fighting until there's nothing left of her but hate and defiance.

Her body clenches tight around you as you violate her in the most intimate and humiliating way possible. She lets out a choked sob of pain and disgust, struggling against your grip as she feels you force yourself deeper into her ravaged body. Her head thrashes from side to side on the cold floor, tears streaming down her face unchecked.

Her mind reels with anger and revulsion; it's impossible for her to understand how anyone could be so cruel. But then again, she supposes that's what makes you such a dangerous enemy: you have no empathy or remorse, only a perverse desire to hurt those who cannot fight back. And despite everything she's been through, despite the agony you cause her with every thrust, she refuses to give up. Her defiance burns brightly inside her like a beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless darkness; it may be all that keeps her alive.