Her home

Without being the usual flashy lights, you teleport the two of you to what was once known as the Zephrah.

Since you took over, you sealed the elemental rifts, along with the divine gate, so that no **** outside the Material Plane could ever bother you or affect your perfect world. Free from the yoke of responsibility, Keyleth's people now frolicked more or less in paradise, under your benevolent judgement.

"Look at how happy everyone is..." You whisper to her, as she trots behind you like a dog down the main street of the place, she'd once called home.

"I've made their lives better than you ever could Kiki...and it's because I'm smarter than you and more powerful than you will ever be." You explain to her, as you lightly brush her red hair.

She nods in resignation. "You're better, Master."

You smile that you didn't need to tell her to add your title. Then you lean down and lift up her chin. "Now, do you want to spend the rest of your life getting fucked in the ass in dingy basements, begging for relief from torment, or would you like to be my personal consort, who helps me spread and maintain glorious peace like this across all of creation, by whoring herself out?"

Keyleth had spent her whole life under the burden of responsibility. She was incapable of resisting the bait, of becoming a martyr to protect her friends.

"I'll be you consort." Keyleth says. "I'll do whatever you want, I'll serve whoever you want me to...just please don't hurt anyone else..."

You smile and press a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Alright, punching bag, **** yourself in front of your former neighbors and I'll consider your offer."

Keyleth nods and staggers out into the town square. Ashamed, but ****, she begins jilling herself off. Rubbing her unkempt cunt and clawing at her tiny tits as she moaned like a whore.

"All, hail, the master." She says, aloud, as people stop to stare at their former leader.

"All. Hail. The Master!" She repeats, leaning down to stick her abused ass in the air as she humped the ground.

You smile and cause a particularly biting wind to flow across her sticky cunt-lips. She lets out a sigh and her ministrations become more **** as her voice rises an octave. She shouldn't have been able to orgasm again after the earlier pleasure induced ****. Yet there she goes, moaning and whining like the bitch she is and stuffing her face in the mud of the town square to muffle her heinous sounds of enjoyment.

"All! Hail! THE MASTER!" She declares, raising her muck-coated face to the winds of Zephrah as her public frigging reaches conclusion. Piss seeps from her cunt and splashes across her thighs, in a final demonstration of her inadequacy.

You walk over and kick her in her hypersensitive cunt, causing her to collapse on the ground in another fit of paradoxical pleasure. As she writhes beneath your gaze, you smile. There was no degradation which the poor girl would not freely expose herself to, in an attempt to control the situation. And when you finally grew bored of her **** attempts to please you, you could always twist the knife by telling her that her friends had been dead this whole time.