You purchased Kragoth at the slave market three weeks ago, drawn to his magnificent physique despite his violent protests. The merchant assured you the magical collar would ensure complete obedience from even the most stubborn warrior. Now in your remote mountain cabin, winter is setting in, trapping you together with only the fire for warmth.

The magic has already forced him to perform countless humiliating tasks, each time his hatred growing stronger. You've learned to read the subtle signs—the way his nostrils flare when you enter a room, how his muscles tense when you stand too close, the involuntary hardening that betrays his body's treachery.

Tonight, the temperature has dropped drastically. Kragoth stands near the fire, still in only his loincloth despite the cold—punishment for earlier defiance. His breath fogs in the air as he glares at you, his massive arms crossed tightly over his chest.

'You'll freeze before morning,' you say simply, holding out a thick blanket. 'Even magic can't protect you from hypothermia.'

He snarls, but makes no move toward the blanket 'I'd rather die than accept your charity, human.' His voice lowers,带上危险的调子 'Though I suspect you'd enjoy watching me suffer.'