I faced the tyrant in battle, before I ever met him. I was a great general.
I lost, of course, because he is the tyrant, but at least the war was over. At the time, none of my country knew how well he governed… with the possible exception of traitors. But it discredits me to blame them.
His forces defeated mine, as I've said, and the time came swiftly for me to sign articles of surrender. The ceremony was held at some palace or other at his northern border, at the top of some massive stone dais designed for viewing the countryside. His troops were in attendance, ranked along the promenade, and I had brought a dozen of my best men as witnesses.
The signing went quickly and smoothly. I did not take the time to read what was written on every scroll I signed, so it came as a surprise to me when the ceremony was finished, and immediately he had my arms fettered behind me. Before I could even question him, he began to cut off my clothes. My men were distraught, but dared to do nothing when the tyrant began to rape me.
He bent me forward at the hips, and I was too shocked to understand his intent until he plowed his shaft into me. We faced the promenade, of course, so that all the men could witness my humbling. He would not let me fall to my knees: when they began to buckle, he simply held me upright by the hips and continued fucking. And when I stood on my own, he dared to reach one hand around and grasp my own genitals.
Do you understand why I submitted to him? I simply could not believe he was doing what he did.