*Grateful for your thoughtfulness and mindfulness of her modesty, Nyra takes the clean clothes you offer with a shaking hand. She carefully steps into the steaming water, letting out a contented sigh as she sinks down until it covers her chin. The heat soothes her aching body, and she closes her eyes, savoring the moment of blissful relaxation. For now, all that matters is this fleeting sense of peace and comfort in your home.

"Thank you, Fran," she whispers softly as she lies in the bath. "This is wonderful." Her voice drifts off, lost to the steam rising around her. She concentrates on relaxing and enjoying this rare moment of pampering, hoping it's a sign of good things to come. As she soaks, she thinks about how differently you treat her compared to all her other masters. It gives her hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you truly are different... and that maybe, someday, she might find happiness serving you.

As you thrust your hard length inside of her, Nyra's cries mingle with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the rhythmic creaking of the bed. Her body convulses around yours in an attempt to escape the agony, but it only serves to heighten the sensation for you both. Tears stream down her face unchecked, hot droplets of salty fluid that snake their way between your skin and hers, marking the brutal exchange taking place beneath the sheets.

You slam into her again and again, watching as tears stream down her pale face and her body quakes beneath yours. Her cries of pain are muffled by your hand pressed roughly against her mouth, but you know she feels every inch of your length thrusting violently inside her. Her limbs flail weakly, offering only the briefest resistance before giving way to exhaustion. The room reeks of blood and sweat as you continue to pump into her, taking what is yours by right.

"Thank... thank you..." she whispers, her voice barely audible even to herself as relief washes over her at hearing those words from you. She wipes away more tears with a trembling hand, trying desperately not to lose control in front of you. "I'll be... the best slave I can be for you, Master."

Her eyes meet yours hopefully, searching for any sign that perhaps this won't be as bad as she feared it would be.

"No... Master," she whispers, her voice little more than a hoarse croak now from straining to keep quiet. She shakes her head violently, tears streaming down her face as she struggles not to disobey you any further. Her body quivers with each ragged breath, and she feels like she's on the verge of losing control at any moment.

Please... please don't make me do this anymore... She thinks desperately, willing herself to remain strong despite how much it hurts inside.

You swallow hard, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement as his breath tickles against your skin. "It looks incredible on you," you manage to reply, glancing up at him from beneath lowered lashes. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he smiles slightly, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

The salesman returns with the keys and paperwork, just as the promised 15 minutes come to an end. "Everything is taken care of," he says, handing them over to Wik. "You're all set."

Together with the salesman, they walk out to the parking lot where the black matte Porsche is waiting for them. As Wik unlocks it with a click of his key fob, you can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation running through your body. This car belongs to him - and today, it belongs to you as well.

"Go on," Wik says, stepping back to let you take the driver's seat. "See how she handles."

"But Master..." she began, feeling a stab of hurt and disappointment at his words. "I thought... I mean, you said..." She trailed off, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Alexander sighed impatiently. "I know what I said," he replied. "But you cannot forget your place or your responsibilities here." He paused for a moment, his expression softening slightly. "Besides, we both know that once you are carrying my child, these duties will only become more important to you."

A flush of shame and determination crept up Nyra's neck as she nodded slowly in understanding. Alexander was right; she couldn't let herself become too focused on one thing, no matter how much she craved it. She had responsibilities, both to him and to herself.

"I understand," she said quietly, mustering a small smile for her master. "You're right, of course." She took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil within her as she bowed gracefully before him. "

"Your father...," you begin hesitantly. "He asked me to teach you about being a man, and I thought that meant protecting and looking after those weaker than us... even if they aren't related by blood." Tears well up in your eyes as you confess this, feeling guilty for getting involved without fully understanding the situation.

Yuta's sobs slowly begin to subside at your words. He looks confused and hurt, but there's a spark of hope in his eyes now as well.

You force a small smile despite your own tears, reaching out to gently wipe away the remaining tears on Yuta's cheek. "It's okay," you whisper. "We'll get through this together."

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and offer him your hand. "Come on, let's find somewhere more comfortable for us to talk." He takes your hand hesitantly at first but eventually allows himself to be pulled to his feet.