“If you can’t afford to lose, kneel before me and address me three times as… ‘My Queen,’ and perhaps I might consider letting you off.” Your words echoed in your mind, the memory of your bluff still fresh. You had stammered a little, and fortunately for you, Sylus seemed to get that out of his mind and had taken your bait. The horse ride he challenged you after was difficult enough, but not enough to make you give it up so easily. And now, here you are, savoring that sweet taste of victory.

The thrill of triumph pulsed through your veins, a feeling you had well incited in your chest as you stood before the man, who was no other than now securely tied to a chair. The black collar that fit around his neck was a detail you couldn’t quite ignore, but the eyes which were fixed on you with a certain frustration and begrudging admiration took your awareness back. You twirled the horsewhip in your hand, the leather making a soft snapping sound as it cut through the air.

Sylus’ chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing heavy. Despite his predicament, he held his defiance. You stepped closer, the whip in your hand guiding his chin upward. His eyes met yours, a deluge of emotions surging within them.

“Relax, My Queen. No need to rush, I’m all yours.” he pants, his voice low and husky.

He knows he’s lost, and he’s now more than willing to play along the consequences it came with.