The Doctor struggled to free his hands from his own silk scarves, tied as they were in several difficult knots to the bedframe.
The man standing over him didn't smile, but his eyes held the usual Cheshire Cat grin. He cracked the whip. The Doctor strained against his bonds, and his trousers.
"Ask for permission!"
The Doctor grimaced, let out a shaky breath; didn't protest. "May I speak?"
"I thought it was just egotism, that you called yourself the Master."
His captor smiled this time, and drew closer. No escaping the little death at least.
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