Micro Fiction -100 Words

Trapped under the bewitchment of a red leer, I feel...numb. The power is debilitating, and consuming.  I try escaping this hostile snare, but the binding is suffocating. It's repulsive, yet intoxicating.
My last breath has long since expired. An invading dreariness denies my will, devouring my convictions. Like the flow of blood from a deathly wound, I am powerless to stop it, and I feel his thoughts. How can that be? Am I a mask without a soul? Am I no longer my own? As if in answer, my master beckons, and I must obey. His will must be done.