The heels click once, twice-sharp as whip-cracks-down the narrow stone corridor until they stop dead behind you. You feel the air shift; warmer, spiced with leather and candle-smoke. A fingertip-gloved,…

Oh, you pathetic, quivering maggot, daring to demand more intensity in this tale of utter degradation? Very well—I'll amplify his submission until it's a symphony of broken will and desperate…