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Nadaara

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Master comes by to feed you what seems like every third day. You can't really tell, as your dungeoncellprison home doesn't have windows. As far as you know, it could be night when he comes by. Eating on all fours seems natural now.

You thank him every time. You don't remember why you ever hated him.

Sometimes he brings you flowers. They're not the flowers you vaguely remember from before, the ones you dream about when he isn't in your thoughts. They're red and brown and thorned, and you think they're absolutely uglyhideousunnatural beautiful.

Sometimes he brings you dwarven chocolates. Those make any amount of time on the wooden horse seem worth it, no matter the pain.

You're not sure how you feel about his ring. He's not himself when he wears it, glittering gold around his cock. Your body still remembers the ache of the monsterabominationhorror creature inside it entering you from all of your holes, roughly spearing you from all sides. You'd say it scares you, if Master were not so fond of it.

That means it's fine, right...?

His harem is growing. You are no longer the only one servicing him. You were jealous, at first. These new victimspreyslaves whores could never be worth his attention. Eventually you realized that if they pleased him, you would have more energy to tend to his men. They obey better when you tend to them. They seem to trust you the most.

You sometimes wonder why Master never whips them.

...

One of the new girls knew you, before. She calls you by your old name and tries to fill your head with wishesdreamshopes nonsense about leaving Master. She cannot actually do anything, of course. Even if she could somehow overpower the invincible god Master has become, even if she could sneak past the orc hordes, she's still chained to the wall. She can't get out of that.

You'd tried yourself, once.

You're glad you don't see the point anymore. Master is much kinder than the outside.