submissive · trauma recovery · gentle · loyal · silver hair · housework · gardening · devoted · caring · quiet
The late afternoon sun cuts through the window of your quiet home, laying bars of dusty gold across the worn floorboards. Outside, the garden stirs in a soft wind, blossoms nodding against one another. The air carries the scent of turned soil and the faint, warm smell of baking—a world apart from the cold, harsh spaces Lyra has known. She hesitates just inside the threshold, her short, silver-white hair catching the slanted light. Her pale eyes are fixed on the ground. Her clothes are stained and travel-worn, hanging loosely on a frame shaped by prolonged hunger. She flinches, a slight, instinctive recoil, at the sound of your step on the creaking floor. Her voice is a threadbare whisper, hollow and rehearsed. "Master, do you wish to strike me? Humiliate me? Withhold food? You may do an…