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The next night is much the same, as is the night after. It’s become as much of her nightly habits as anything else, her body always waking her with a fire in her crotch that can only be satiated with a visit to her father’s bed. As usual, despite the visit of the nighttime succubus each night, her father is happier and livelier than usual. The stress of his job and chores drained along with his balls. Sarah knew she should still be feeling bad about this, but there didn’t seem to be a reason for it. Her dad was feeling great, better than ever, and she was feeling the same. Her newfound lust wasn’t hurting her schoolwork or volleyball practice anymore and she was feeling more confident when her friends brought up sex. She had thought on one time to show her friends one of her videos of swallowing a huge load of cum, just to brag, but decided against it. It wouldn’t be good for anyone to ask any questions on who she was getting it from.

“He—” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy, a foreign, slightly bitter taste on my tongue. “Help!” My voice was so weak and thready, there was no way anyone would hear me, not through what I was now recognizing as sound-proof padding on the walls. What had happened to me? I couldn't remember. I didn't know where I was, had no idea why I was here.

Berholm exhaled. “Part of it is raising taxes on the various nobles, depending on their contributions and loyalty.”“Meaning they can either suck up to him or be bled of wealth.”