A brief respite

You have no concept of time. Every so often, Khal makes an adjustment to your position, but your entire world is just an endless state of being fucked. On your knees, on your belly, on your side, he even rolls you into your back and takes you intimately, forcing you to look up at him as he breaks you down and down.

Your body hurts. Shoulders and wrists burn, your jaw aches, and your pussy is a mess of quivering nerve endings sending a tangled ball of confused sensations to your brain. Your entire body is slick with sweat. You've lost count of the number of times your master has **** an orgasm form you. You don't care anymore.

You've retreated to a safe space inside your mind and are experiencing everything as if from a distance.

But it does end, eventually. When you stop fighting and moaning and limply accept thst you are defeated, he loses interest. When he does finally finish, it comes as such a surprise that you don't even fully register what you're feeling.

Warmth spreads through your lower abdomen in a luxuriously pleasant way. It's almost soothing. You moan softly in appreciation, and then he pulls out of you, leaving you battered and stunned.

The sight of his naked body as he walks towards the small wet bar to your left is thrilling. He is so perfectly masculine. So deliciously dangerous. His huge cock, mostly flaccid now, draws your eyes as he walks. You can't help but feel a deep sense of submissive pride at the sheer dominance of your master.

You shake your head to clear that thought. You don't want to succumb to his dominance, not like that. You own him, not the other way around. But as you watch him crack the top off of a beer and drain its contents, you know deep down that you would.

If this were his world, or you really were a Character, or even just some random guy you met and he wanted you to submit... you would give him everything without hesitation. Just looking at him, knowing the beast he is... it melts you.

You've always been at odds with the part of you that longs to submit. But you're too damned proud to ever let yourself truly seek it out. This thing you do, your secret shame in your basement, isn't real. At least... you work your aching jaw against the gag filling your mouth. At least it wasn't real.

Now you're not so sure. But you will fight this. A voice in your head screams at you that you're an idiot, that you should just accept him. It's what you wanted, right? But you know it's wrong. You have the power to end this, and you will as soon as you're able.

But until then... Your eyes wander the strong muscular lines of Khal Drogo's body. Well until then you are his plaything. And that most certainly is what you wanted when you bought him.

He returns to your side and releases your manacles from the wall chain, allowing you to lower your hands to your lap. Your aching shoulders cry out in protest at suddenly being moved but it feels good to have even that tiny amount of freedom.

Khal's piercing eyes capture yours and all thoughts of resistance flee. He plucks the knife from the pillar and seems to be considering your fate. He reaches one hand behind your head to release your gag but pauses.

"There is much of this world I don't yet understand, ****. But I think you know a lot more than you're telling me. I think you're keeping secrets from me. You are not allowed secrets, ****."

Your blood chills. Khal Drogo isn't supposed to worry about these things. He was made specifically to be unambitious,. Content to fuck his **** without concern for anything outside of your basement walls. Why is he suddenly acting so differently?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the point of his knife under your chin.

"You are going to tell me everything you know. If you betray me with your sorcery, you will live to regret it. I promise you that. Do you understand?"

You nod, the barest twitch of your muscles because of the knife pressed to your skin. Tiny tears gather in the corners or your eyes. There's nothing in his mods that would prevent him from harming you if you don't obey him. Your stomach fills with dread.

"Good." He releases the gag and pulls it from your face, letting you finally breathe properly though your mouth and close your aching jaw.

But more importantly, you can speak. It's a short phrase, 'Playtime is over,' but it's not short enough that he couldn't end you before you could finish it. If he knew what you were doing. Could he possibly know about that phrase? He's not supposed to. He's supposed to forget.

"Use your tongue if you want to keep it. I can find other uses for your mouth."

You're so close to freedom but it still feels out of reach. Do you play along or try your luck with the override phrase?