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One Week Later:
Night fell, and Queen Anna's carriage stopped in front of Caron's mansion. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, but her trembling hands betrayed her inner fear and unease. She knew that stepping through that gate meant she would completely submit to Caron's tyrannical power. Caron was already waiting at the door, a false smile on his face, as if he were welcoming not a queen, but a prostitute about to be toyed with. His fingers wandered across Anna's face like a greasy snake, making her feel disgusted and repulsed. She wanted to pull away, but Caron's hand clamped onto her chin like a vise, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Don't be shy, Your Majesty," Caron whispered close to her ear, "Tonight, you will enjoy unprecedented pleasure."
Anna took a deep breath and stepped into the underground dungeon of Caron's mansion. The damp, cold air, mixed with the smell of blood and burning flesh, made her want to vomit. But she did not hesitate and continued to walk forward. For the sake of the empire, for the sake of the people, she had to endure all this.
Anna's body was tightly bound, but she did not feel fear, but rather a strange sense of calm. The pain and humiliation that had been suppressed in her heart for so long were released to some extent at this moment. She bit her lip, letting her body feel everything, the painful moans mixed with a trace of relief that even she herself had not noticed.

This body, defiled and transformed by orcs, no longer belonged to her. Now, it had become her bargaining chip in a deal with the devil, a tool for her to save the empire. This twisted reality filled her with immeasurable sorrow and despair, but it also made her more determined. For the future of the empire, she was willing to give everything, even her body, even her soul.

Caron was watching her nearby, this political enemy of many years, this cunning little man, this lewd old man, this person she hated so much, was now deriving great satisfaction from her most humiliating state. Thinking of this, a indescribable disgust and anger welled up in Anna's heart, but she was powerless to resist.

Anna was led by Caron into the dungeon of the mansion with a rough leash around her neck, like a bitch. The dungeon was dark and damp, the air filled with the smell of mold and rot, but she felt a strange sense of security. At least here, she didn't have to worry about being watched by the public, or about those pitying or mocking gazes.

She wriggled her voluptuous hips, awkwardly dancing the obscene dance Caron demanded. A gorgeous masquerade mask covered her humiliated expression, but it could not hide the despair in her eyes. The surrounding nobles whispered amongst themselves, and although the mask hid Anna's face, her figure and her demeanor allowed them to recognize the once noble queen. Many of them had once been Anna's subjects, the people she needed to gain support from. Now, they were enjoying her humiliation as if watching a circus performance.

"Larger movements!" Caron ordered roughly, tugging hard on the leash. Anna staggered and almost fell. She turned her head, looking at Caron with a mournful expression, her eyes filled with humiliation and despair.

This political enemy of hers for many years, this cunning little man, this lewd old man, this person she had once hated so much, now completely dominated her, controlling her body and her fate. And Caron, in her submissive gaze and writhing body, derived great satisfaction. He reveled in the pleasure of this power, the pleasure of trampling the high and mighty queen under his feet.