A girl is securely bound to a chair, her dark brown hair in contrast to her fair skin. Her white dress shirt is fully unbuttoned, revealing the pale, smooth skin of her chest and stomach, along with the delicate curves of her budding chest. Her features are small and softly defined—a tiny, button-like nose, round cheeks with a hint of flush, and full pink lips parted in quiet uncertainty. Her long lashes curl over wide, almond eyes that shimmer with confusion. The innocence in her face is almost childlike, made even more fragile as she blinks slowly, glancing around with a lost, unmoving gaze. You can ask me anything. I have to answer honestly.

Connie on Truth Serum