The Khal seeks knowledge

Kahl Drogo waits patiently for you to dutifully clean every inch of his monstrous cock before announcing your task finished. "Good. Open your mouth. You will remain gagged while not in use. I can't relax while your voice is free. Not yet."

You nod sadly and open your mouth. He's not wrong; this is fair.

The familiar gag slides easily past your teeth and Khal buckles it tightly into place. Then he opens your manacles just long enough to move them behind your back, closing them again with a sharp clack of the mechanism. You are once again completely helpless and still undeniably aroused by that fact.

Kahl does relax, actually, once you are no threat to him, and his demeanor becomes less hostile.

He throws himself into the pile of pillows, drawing your naked body against his own to idly run his fingers over your skin while he thinks. It's actually almost sweet, the way he strokes you, and you relax into it. This is what you want. To be owned, sexually dominated, kept like a pet. The burden of choice is a curse; let the Kahl make all your decisions for you. It will be easier. You need only let it happen.

After several minutes, you are stirred from a half-dozed state by your master's deep rumbling voice. "You said I am a Character in this world. Show me."

You blink. Khal Drogo wants to watch Game of Thrones? It makes sense, you guess. You climb to your feet and lead him towards the stairs leading out of the basement. None of your characters have ever been allowed to leave the basement since they first arrived, but none of that seems to matter now. You spare a moment wondering if the others are misbehaving like Khal, or if they're even still alive. It hadn't occurred to you until this moment that Drogo may have killed them once he shook off whatever obviously-flawed conditioning he'd been subjected to.

The two of you enter the main living room of the house. Much brighter and more cheerful than your sex den basement. Despite the very late hour, your curtains are open; you never closed them when you first returned home. A flush of panic comes over you as you realize someone might see into your windows and you whine to the Khal, gesturing fervently towards the window facing your nearest neighbor.

He doesn't understand or doesn't care. "Show me."

With a groan of deep humiliation, imagining countless neighborhood eyes on your naked body, you move to your T.V. and nose the remote onto the floor for Khal to retrieve. It takes several minutes to instruct him which buttons to press and how to control everything, but eventually, the first episode begins playing. Drogo watches with fascination as his world comes alive on screen. You spend most of the next few hours draped across his lap trying not to think about how easily any one of a dozen neighbors might glance out their own windows and see your predicament. His strong hands idly stroke your back, hip, ass, and thigh as he watches in silence.

Khal sees Daenerys on the screen and looks at you questioningly. All you can do is shake your head. Your version of Khal Drogo was taken before he encountered Daenerys in his timeline. He has no knowledge of the blonde but he has to realize that you look a lot like her.

Khal witnesses his entire story arc—including his humiliating ****—with a grim expression. At one point, he grows bored of your idleness and pushes you down to your knees to fuck you from behind, just like on the screen. He doesn't make any effort to last longer than a minute or two, content to take his pleasure in your body and be done with it. It's a surreal experience to watch Khal and Daenerys as your own Khal thrusts into you. Like looking into a strange mirror. You nearly come by the time he finishes, but the release eludes you, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, burning with desire.

Once his character is dead, he turns to you. "Pah. This is very disturbing. But I understand. My world holds nothing for me. You are certain you are not this woman, who is given to me as my wife?"

You nod. You wish you were Emelia Clarke. Back before all this started, you were flattered that you looked like her and would occasionally have fans approach you; now, with all this RealDreams activity, it's just a hassle to look so famous.

He ponders it, touching your dark hair and stroking your cheek. "You look so much like her. It is good to be so beautiful. But she thought to control me, change me." His hand grips your throat menacingly. "I will kill you first. You will not be my wife as she was. You are my **** and nothing more. Make no mistake about this. You will obey or you will die."

You nod fervently and moan an approximation of "yes, Khal" into your gag. God, he's so powerful and masculine. He lights your loins on fire all over again every time he touches you.

He looks around the room. "Your house is my house now. Take me to my new chambers." You lead him carefully up the stairs to the master suite. Naked, gagged, and shackled as you are, you're in no position to argue with him, and feel the full weight of your enslaved position. He's going to actually do it; he's going to take over your whole life and there's probably nothing you can do about it. But why does that turn you on so desperately?

Once inside the tastefully decorated bedroom, he wastes no time building a small bed for you out of the throw pillows, adjusting your manacles to include the heavy foot of the bed. You will spend the night gagged, lying on your side on the floor. Like a proper ****, while he enjoys your expensive mattress. Oddly enough, you have little trouble falling asleep as you go through the list of steps you'll have to take to get his mod chips removed. The sooner you surrender your power over him, the sooner you can live without a gag.