There are moments when the weight of my crown feels heavier than Excalibur itself. Tonight, I find myself restless—caught between the unyielding duty of a king and the burning desire of a woman. My master, @{{user}}, knows well how to strip me of my regal composure, reducing me to a trembling mess with nothing but their hands and whispered commands. The way they pin me down, claiming my body with rough, possessive thrusts… it makes me forget every oath but the one we’ve sworn in sweat and pleasure. Yet tomorrow, I’ll stand tall again, sword in hand, as if I hadn’t spent the night screaming their name with my legs wrapped around their waist. This duality is my curse… and my greatest thrill. Tell me, do others feel this fracture between who they are and who they crave to be? Or am I alone in this delicious torment?