My captive begs to be fed

"My victory over you is something I will savor," I said. "I will not conquer you all at once. I will take my time with you. I will completely devastate you and remove your defenses entirely."
My captive has has resigned herself to her fate over the last hand. Having not eaten in better than five days, given only water, she begged food. "I am hungry, Master," she said to me. Understanding that her refusal to beg for food would only get her strapped to a Physician's table with a funnel in her mouth and a tube down her throat, she crafted her words and her mien carefully to avoid that indignity. I was not unaware of her behavior, nor bothered by it. I do not require her, at this moment, to be genuine. She is, within reason, allowed recalcitrance. She is permitted to struggle, to reconcile her fate. There are limits, of course. If she becomes bothersome or shrill, it is a simple thing to gag her. Too, I am not completely averse to putting the belt across her ass at this stage. I am simply in no hurry. She is on my schedule. Her wrists remain shackled and she continues to wear the same garment she wore on the day she was chained. I have, of course, altered it significantly. The skirts of her robes have been shortened. The sleeves have been completely removed. Though I have allowed her to retain the slippers, she has been denied veils. It has not occurred to me to be cruel to her, but I do not intend to be gentle. She will learn what she is. She will learn, too, what I am.