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“Just so we're perfectly clear, Brianna,” she purred wickedly, extending her long, sinuous tongue and seductively licking a glob of cum from where it had landed on my cheek. “I have video cameras all over this little playroom of mine. I'm going to let you go tonight, but you're going to come back to me, once a week. You should be thankful for that—that's hardly anything, compared to how often you and your friends made me take care of you! But I know you have a wife now, and coming here any more than that would risk her finding out, and ruining it all. So, you're going to come back once a week, and you're going to let me do anything I want to you, and you're going to do everything I say. Because if you don't, I will send the video to your wife, and your boss, and your co-workers... everyone you know, Brianna! And rest assured, it will be a slightly edited version, showing only how eager you were for everything I just did to you, none of the parts explaining how I coerced you into doing it!

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.”

“But I CAN’T make up for what I’ve done, don’t you understand? I can’t bring back the people I’ve killed. I can’t heal the people I’ve hurt. I can’t undo the damage I’ve wrought. One lifetime is not enough to properly repent for my sins, so why bother living? Maybe N-N-N-N… he… should have just killed me. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done. He said he would take everything from me, every sensation I can enjoy, every thought and feeling that makes me who I am, my hopes and dreams. He was right, it took it all, but he let me keep me life. I wish he hadn’t. I don’t deserve it.”