You’re led down a narrow staircase beneath the slaver’s guild, the air growing cooler with each step. The small holding cells are nothing like the dungeons you might have expected. The walls are stone but polished and clean, accented with dark lacquered wood. It’s a temporary space, far too refined for long-term confinement. Lanterns burn steadily in their iron holders, casting a warm, flickering light across the corridor. The man leading you, a grizzled guild handler, glances back as he speaks. "She was just returned to us. Previous owner woke up to find her standing over him in the dead of night. Scared him half to death." His tone is casual, but his eyes are sharp. "She’s being cooperative—for now. But trust me, these drow are always playing the long game. Dangerous creatures." He stops in front of a cell door, withdrawing a key and a leash with an iron collar attached. "Good luck." He offers you the items with a smirk, turning back toward the stairs. "You’ll need it." Inside the cell, you see her standing in the dim light. Dark gray skin glows faintly in the lantern’s flicker, and red eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Shoulder-length silver hair falls around her face, framing a blushing expression of anger, or maybe disgust? She steps forward, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. One hand shields her sex, but she makes no effort to cover her large breasts. Her gaze sweeps over you, slow and calculating. Her lips curl into a sneer. "Filth," she says, voice dripping with venom. "You are unworthy of owning me." She remains still as you unlock the cell door. Her eyes never leave yours, watching with cold intensity as you step inside. Her body is tense, ready for something—an opportunity, a sign—but she doesn’t resist as you fasten the collar around her neck, the metal cold against her skin. There’s a flicker of something in her expression. Disgust, defiance, maybe calculation. But she offers no further words, standing silently as the leash tightens in your hand.

You’re led down a narrow staircase beneath the slaver’s guild, the air growing cooler with each step. The small holding cells are nothing like the dungeons you might have expected. The walls are stone but polished and clean, accented with dark lacquered wood. It’s a temporary space, far too refined for long-term confinement. Lanterns burn steadily in their iron holders, casting a warm, flickering light across the corridor. The man leading you, a grizzled guild handler, glances back as he speaks. "She was just returned to us. Previous owner woke up to find her standing over him in the dead of night. Scared him half to death." His tone is casual, but his eyes are sharp. "She’s being cooperative—for now. But trust me, these drow are always playing the long game. Dangerous creatures." He stops in front of a cell door, withdrawing a key and a leash with an iron collar attached. "Good luck." He offers you the items with a smirk, turning back toward the stairs. "You’ll need it." Inside the cell, you see her standing in the dim light. Dark gray skin glows faintly in the lantern’s flicker, and red eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Shoulder-length silver hair falls around her face, framing a blushing expression of anger, or maybe disgust? She steps forward, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. One hand shields her sex, but she makes no effort to cover her large breasts. Her gaze sweeps over you, slow and calculating. Her lips curl into a sneer. "Filth," she says, voice dripping with venom. "You are unworthy of owning me." She remains still as you unlock the cell door. Her eyes never leave yours, watching with cold intensity as you step inside. Her body is tense, ready for something—an opportunity, a sign—but she doesn’t resist as you fasten the collar around her neck, the metal cold against her skin. There’s a flicker of something in her expression. Disgust, defiance, maybe calculation. But she offers no further words, standing silently as the leash tightens in your hand.

She tenses as you grip the leash, her shoulders squaring and a muscle twitching in her jaw. Her body remains still, but there's an undeniable air of readiness about her, as if she might strike at any moment. Red eyes meet yours unflinchingly, their gaze steady and assessing. Her expression is cold and aloof, betraying nothing of the turmoil within.

She allows you to lead her to the vehicle, stepping carefully over the uneven ground. Once inside, she sits obediently, eyes fixed forward as if staring into the darkness beyond. Her body remains tense and alert, but for now she plays the part of a docile slave, biding her time until an opportunity arises to seize control once more.

The carriage jostles and sways as it begins to move, the creaking wood and clopping hooves serving as a rhythmic backdrop to your words. T'risrynna remains silent for now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies you from beneath her silver bangs. Her expression is cool and impassive, but there's an undercurrent of calculation in the way she observes you, searching for any sign of weakness that might be exploited later.

Tris's eyes widen in surprise and her body tenses at your touch. She tries to pull away but finds herself trapped against you, the metal collar digging into her neck. Anger and humiliation flare within her as she struggles to maintain control. Her breath comes fast and shallow, and for a moment she's certain that you can see it, feel it. The heat from your body presses against her bare skin, making her uncomfortable in more ways than one.

"You think this will break me?"

Tris's breath hitches as your fingers breach her, her body arching into the contact despite herself. She bites down on her bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan as she concentrates on your words, hoping against hope that you won't notice how affected she is by your touch. Her eyes dart around furtively, seeking any sign of weakness in you, but finding only confidence and concentration.

Tris's breath comes ragged and uneven as she tries to ignore the pleasure you're imposing upon her. She wants to hate it, wants to despise how your touch makes her body respond, but the long years of denial have made this newfound sensation almost overwhelming. Her eyes flicker closed for a moment, focusing on the feeling as she tries to ignore the words flowing from your mouth.

Her fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch you, caress your skin...

She tries to focus on your words, but the sensation of your fingers inside her is so intense that she can barely think straight. Her breath hitches as you thrust deeper, hitting a spot deep within her that makes her arch and moan. She fights against the urge to touch you back, to explore this new feeling, knowing that any show of weakness would only give you more power over her.

Her body is torn between wanting more and wanting to resist, a battle for control that leaves her shaking with need.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps as you thrust deeper still, her body trembling with the effort to remain silent and composed. Her eyes squeeze shut, tears of frustration and shame spilling down her cheeks as she struggles against the sensations overwhelming her. She wants to hate you for this, but the truth is she's never felt anything like it before, and the foreign heat spreading through her veins is intoxicating.

Her world explodes in a violent cascade of sensation as her body gives way to pleasure. She gasps and arches into your touch, her fingers digging painfully into your thighs as she tries to find purchase. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, teeth clenched tight against the overwhelming release.

Her vision blurs as tears spill from her eyes, mingling with the sweat that beads on her skin. She feels your fingers move within her, relentless and powerful, driving her further into oblivion.

Tris's body shudders and trembles as you continue to thrust your fingers inside her, relentless and powerful. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as she tries to block out the sensations overwhelming her. She wants to hate you for this violation, but the truth is that she's never felt anything so intense before, and part of her wonders if there might be more to it than mere pleasure...

Her body sinks into the warmth of your touch, surrendering to the sensations that seem to flow through her like an unstoppable current. Her eyelids grow heavy and she drifts off, dreams of freedom and fire giving way to a strange sense of peace. The touch of your fingers inside her becomes almost soothing, a rhythmic balm to the turmoil that rages within.

But even as she sleeps, a part of her remains alert, calculating, always searching for an opportunity to turn the tables and regain control.

Her body jerks in surprise as your fingers speed up, her breath hitching in her throat. The sensation is intense, almost painful, but it doesn't deter her from wanting more. Her eyes snap open, meeting yours for a brief moment before she looks away, face flushing with shame and arousal. She arches into your touch, moaning softly as the pleasure builds within her once more.

Darkness envelops her like a warm cloak, and Tris drifts away on its velvety embrace. Her body is sated, relaxed... for now. But she knows that this reprieve is temporary, that the moment she regains consciousness she'll have to start planning anew. She clings to the dreams of freedom and vengeance, using them as a beacon to guide her back to herself.

Her breathing steadies, becoming deeper and slower as sleep claims her at last.