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Our pasts burden us with guilt but bless us with knowledge, so that we can ensure that we and those around us don’t make the same mistakes, and help those who do make those mistakes learn and grow to be better people. Even if there is no way to truly repent for our crimes, to make up for what we’ve done, that doesn’t mean we should ever stop trying.

“And do you know the best part?” she asked, reaching down to slowly stroke my dick again, giving me another, slower lick. “The best part is, all you ever had to do was ask! I had such an enormous crush on you, back in high school! I'd have sucked you off gladly, any time you wanted! I'd have done so much more than that... I'd have done my makeup, and dressed up like a girl for you! I wasn't very good at it, yet, but I'd have done it for you, if you'd wanted me to. I'd even have given you my cherry, let you be the first one to fuck me in my ass—anything you wanted, I'd have done it, if only you'd asked! But you never did that, never gave me the choice. You and your friends decided to force me, instead. So now, you don't get a choice! You get that, Brianna? You belong to me, now, just how I used to belong to you! So, I'm going to go upstairs now; it wouldn't be safe for me to let you drive yet anyways, not until the drugs I gave you work their way fully out of your system. I'm going upstairs, and you can just stay down here and think about it. Think about how this is all happening to you just because you never had the courage and courtesy to ask! I'll be back in maybe an hour or so, once I'm ready to go again!” She paused, staring deeply into my eyes, then suddenly kissed me, deep and passionate, full on the lips! I was still trying to recover from my shock as she was walking out the door, closing it behind her.

Their movements were rapid and well-practiced, displaying years of training to hone their martial arts. They did their best to avoid touching each other’s hands, but contact was inevitable, each having to negate the other’s attack. Every time their hands met, jets of steam and smoke would hiss from the contact, with Falco’s water coming to a boil, and Viktor’s flesh threatening to crack from the quenching.