Against the cold stone walls of his chambers, her cries echoes, her pleas for mercy that went unansweered reverberated, filling the lich's ear with a symphony of her suffering.  She danced on the horse, rubbing the narrow, biting bar into her sex until the pain there was as acute as any of the lash marks on her body, her head low, tears coming in a torrent to fill a dozen wineglasses.<em>You chose this</em>she reminded herself, somewhere deep inside her, beneath the mind of slave that covered her true self like a veil.<em>You know he wanted it.  Give him what he wants, make him believe you are his.  We'll show him, in the end. . .</em><br/><br/>