Summary: What if your own memories could be used as blackmail?

I never thought my memories would betray me, although I've learned that lesson the hard way. Getting my brain's connectome scanned was supposed to be the ultimate insurance, a way to cheat death as long as soft copies were on storage somewhere. I'd hoped the company handling the insurance was completely automated and devoid of human pettiness, but my own naivety was quickly exploited by an over-eager voyeur. Now, I am blackmailed into all manner of unsavory tasks by the one other person who knows my darkest secrets. Are my own sins enough to warrant eternal servitude to that fool? Probably not, but I've definitely done worse by now.