The Master couldn't get words out by this point, just make very small noises that sounded vaguely like words but not quite. His throat felt clogged and even breathing was a struggle, let alone speaking. Too much pressure in one small space.

Instead of telling the Doctor anything, his eyes sort of rolled back into his head as he let himself rest against the pillow, eyes yearning to close so he could just block this all out instead of having to beg again.

As much as he wanted to fight back, to shove the Doctor off, all he could do was take it. But that didn't mean he had to be awake and alert to suffer it.