BOOK 2 PRETTY LITTLE WHORE
CHAPTER 15

"Good girl," Jaimie murmurs in my ear as the last ripples of my orgasm fade to relaxation. "Such a good little slut for me."

He removes my blindfold, and I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust to the sudden light. 

I crave to cuddle next to him in the afterglow of my climax, but he makes no move to untie me. Instead he lays next to me with a hand resting on my stomach. 

"How was your night with the therapist?" he suddenly asks, breaking the silence. He's staring at me intently. 

"Oh! It was… overwhelming." What does he expect me to say? I highly doubt he wants to hear details about the various ways Malachi fucked me and fucked with me. 

"Did you come for him?" His eyes are flashing, which tells me he's not going to like the answer.

"Yes…" I say quietly. 

"I hope you enjoyed it because that was the last time. If I am going to suffer while you get fucked by other men, it is only right that you suffer along with me. I want you desperate for a release by the time I see you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, daddy." 

He already had me agree to this. Why are we going through this again?

"Did you enjoy his company?"

"No." That's not completely true. 

It mostly is though.

"Good. As much as possible when you are at his place, when you are alone, I want you to gently touch your clit and think of any joy you feel spending time with me. You will not let yourself come though. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy."

"How many times did you come for him?"

"Uhh… once I think."

"And with the man in the lounge earlier—was that an act or did you come for him?"

"I came," I say guiltily.

"Is that it, or have there been others since I've seen you?"

"Uhh…." I remember coming on the girl's tongue at Malachi's workplace. 

"There was one other," I mutter. 

"Three orgasms? Wow, Jaycee. You really are a slut."

A rush of anger suddenly wells up inside of me. It doesn't matter that I'm still tied spread eagle to the bed. I'm furious and my built-up emotions are suddenly desperate to release. "How dare you try to shame me! You have no idea what I've been through! Do you know what it is like to be ripped from your home and have your body put up for auction? Have you had your virginity fucked out of you by a man over twice your age, and then forced to endure rape after rape, only to be told that this is your only purpose? 

"Of course you haven't! Because you were lucky enough to be born a fucking man! So don't you dare judge me if I manage to find some fucking pleasure in this fucked up life I've been forced into!"

I'm shaking when I finish. Having gotten that off my chest, I stop and wait to deal with the consequences of my outburst. Jaimie climbs on top of me and places a hand around my throat. I brace myself to be put in my place. He doesn't tighten his grip or hit me or force his cock inside of me. He doesn't even seem angry like I'd expect him to be; if I didn't know better, I would say the expression on his face looks like a mix between sadness and fear. 

Still holding my throat, Jaimie speaks quietly in a low voice. "For every orgasm another man gives you, you will receive five lashes, so that's fifteen lashes you've earned."

"But one of those orgasms was from a woman."

"Fine. Ten lashes then." He gets off of me to grab something from his duffel bag— a whip.

I panic at the sight of the whip. "This isn't fair! I didn't know about this rule."

"Well then, these lashes will help you to remember."

"You're being a jerk!"

"And you're being a slut."

I glare at him, furious, as he climbs back onto the bed and stands over me. Then he raises the whip and brings it down onto my stomach. I gasp at the stinging pain. 

"You're right, Jaycee, I don't know what you've been through."

I grunt when he whips me a second time. 

"And no doubt my life has been easier than yours."

Whip.

"But, that doesn't mean that life as a man has been a fucking cakewalk."

Whip.

"I spent my childhood with a dad who was too busy working, drinking, and fucking to pay any attention to me. "

Whip.

"Daily phone calls were my only connection to my mom until I was thirteen."

Whip.

"At that point I made it my priority to visit her, despite relentless mocking and insults from her master for me desiring a relationship with my mom." 

Whip.

"He felt it was weak of me to desire anything from a woman, but sex."

Whip.

"One time when I came over for a visit, the minute I say my mom's face I knew something was wrong." 

Whip.

"Her eyes were red from crying and she was shaking. Her master told me that he was going to teach me a needed lesson on what the proper use for a cunt was."

Whip.

"My mom began to take her clothes off in front of me."

Whip.

"I tried to leave, but her master wouldn't let me." 

Whip.

I'm pretty sure that he's whipped me over ten times now, but I don't dare interrupt his story.

"He blocked the door and forced me to watch her strip until she was completely naked."

Whip.

"Then she got on her knees in front of me and undid my belt."

Whip.

"I was so shocked, I just stood there, frozen."

Whip. 

"She pulled my cock out and took it into her mouth."

Whip.

"I wanted her to stop— begged her to stop, but her master stood behind me, holding me in place and told her to keep going."

Whip.

"I didn't know what to do. I'd never had a sexual experience with a woman before. I had gotten myself off, but this…"

Whip.

"I was horrified when my cock swelled in her mouth."

Whip.

"Deeply ashamed at how good it felt and how quickly I came."

Whip.

"Her master instructed her to let me come on her face."

Whip.

"After I came, her master told me I wasn't to leave yet."

Whip.

"He said I was to watch and learn how to take pleasure from a woman."

Whip. 

"He had her bend over her bed, and then he fucked her ass in front of me."

Whip.

"Then he told me to leave and not come back again unless I wished to repeat the experience."

Whip.

"I didn't go back. I didn't even call. The shame and self-loathing was like nothing I had ever experienced."

Whip.

"I looked her up several years later only to discover that she was dead. Cause of death: unknown. The bastard must have killed her."

Jaimie must realize that he's been whipping me all this time because he suddenly drops the whip and begins to untie me, starting with my wrists. He continues talking.

"I was never the same after I let my mom suck me off. It's like a part of me died, leaving a gaping hole inside of me. Once I was eighteen, I fucked countless women, hoping that maybe one of them could fill the hole inside. But women have become experts in survival with ten foot walls erected around their hearts. As much as I'd placed my hope on a woman helping me to fill that hole, I am simultaneously terrified that if I were to find her, she would be taken from me. 

"And I don't know how you've managed to do it, Jaycee, but somehow, when I look into your eyes, I don't see walls: I see another being longing for a deeper connection. You don't know how special and beautiful that is. And I know I haven't known you that long, but I can't help but care about you, and that fucking scares me. I couldn't save my mom, and it nearly destroyed me. I don't think I could survive losing you too."

He stops talking. My arms and wrists now untied, I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him; his arms automatically wrapping around me in return. 

It never occurred to me that a man could harbor such pain. Of course, I knew my dad suffered from his inability to help me, but he always seemed like the one exception to the rule, while all other men lived to take what they wanted from women. 

My chest and stomach burn from the whipping, but it was a welcome distraction from the pain I felt from hearing Jaimie's story: his mom had been taken from him three different times—first as a baby, then again as a teen, and then a third time when she was ultimately killed. It also never occurred to me that boys might experience abuse at the hands of men. How common is Jaimie's experience? How many men have a hurting little boy inside of them?

"I'm so sorry, Jaimie. I had no idea. Thank-you for telling me."

Jaimie lays down onto his side, pulling me down with him. 

And that is how we spend the remaining hours of my lounge duty.

Chapter 2
Pretty Little Whore:
A Freeuse Society of Hedone Novel

I follow Malachi out of the kitchen. I gasp when he suddenly whips around and forces me against the nearest wall by my upper arms, his body pinning me up against the wall. He places his hands on the wall on either side of me, trapping me. He seems pleased by my wide eyed expression. 

"You're my first adoptee, by the way." He traces my jaw and chin with a finger. "I look forward to having your body at my disposal." He pats my cheek and then pulls me from the wall by the back of my neck. "I'll give you a tour."

My heart is pounding. The unexpected manhandling and his sudden nearness has me feeling flustered, and I hate to admit it— a little aroused.

He guides me with a hand on the back of my neck from the kitchen to the living room. It looks like what I'd expect from a bachelor pad— functional, but lacking personal touches. He's got expensive looking black leather couches, a coffee table, and a TV mounted on the wall. That's it. The man seems tidy. Hopefully that means he won't expect me to be his 24-7 maid service. 

He leads me back up the stairs I had previously come down from, past the bathroom. Upstairs, I see that there are doors to two other rooms. We don't enter the first.

"That's my office," he tells me. "You won't go in there unless I specifically invite you in. It's off limits if I'm not at home. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Would he have a way of knowing if I did decide to snoop?

He pushes me into the second room, his hand moving to my lower back. I can't help but notice how he keeps a hand on me at all times. It's possessive.

My mouth falls open when I look around. While his townhouse is fairly small and ordinary in all respects, this bedroom looks straight out of a BDSM magazine— or how I imagine one looking if I were to ever actually look at one. (They do exist, don't they?) The walls have been painted red and are lined with erotic images of nude women bound in different positions.

He likes to restrain women. Why does my pussy stir at that fact? Jesus. What is wrong with me? Malachi is not a good person. He's arrogant, manipulative…

My thoughts are interrupted by him speaking to me.

"This is where you will be spending most of your time. Here you will give your body to me and my guests; you will also sleep here."

His words send my mind and body into a frenzy. While his reference to me giving my body to him has my pussy tingling, the mention of guests is simultaneously flooding my gut with anxiety. I suddenly remember my first encounter with him— how he offered me up to the masses after seducing me.

"Why share me? Why not keep me for yourself?" I demand, remembering the deep sense of betrayal I felt that night.

He laughs. "What can I say— I'm a generous man— I'm happy to share my things."

I look away without responding.What can I say to that?

I look around. Malachi has clearly invested a lot of money into this space. A king sized four-poster bed dominates the space. The headboard is black leather. The frame of the bed is a deep stained wood with several metal rings embedded into the wood—I imagine their purpose is to attach wrists to. My pussy stirs once again. 

I swallow and shift my gaze to the rest of the room. The corner closest to me to my right has a hanging spherical cage with black metal bars. I can't stop staring at it. My heart races at the flurry of images it brings to mind— me forced inside, naked and vulnerable while his guests take advantage of me. 

Shame and confusion mixes with my arousal. Have I been so psychologically damaged from my years as a community cunt that my body is now that eager to be taken advantage of?

I finally force my attention from the cage to observe the rest of the room. The corner opposite the cage has a black leather "m" shaped lounger of some sort. I'm sure there is a name for it, but I couldn't tell you. There is a black chest of drawers on either side of the bed. 

"What do you think?" Malachi reaches out to cup my face and turn it towards him.

I swallow, feeling overwhelmed by my inner turmoil. "It's… a lot."

"I've been preparing this space for months. You're the lucky whore who'll break it in."

"Lucky me," I mutter.

"I've cleared half the closet for you so that you can hang up your things. You can also use the chest of drawers to the right of the bed. You are not to open the drawers on the left. If I catch you snooping, the consequences will be severe."

"I understand." 

The reality of the complete power Malachi has over me is suddenly becoming frighteningly clear. If I thought the director had control over my life before, it was nothing compared to this arrangement. I will literally be sleeping in the man's bedroom! 

"I'm going to take a shower— give you some time to unpack. When I get back I'll fill you in on your schedule and what I expect of you."

"Yes, sir."

It might be in my best interest to be somewhat agreeable right?

I hang up my dresses in the closet and organize everything else into the drawers. It's strange for me to see my things hanging alongside his. I've never shared a living space with another person before, let alone a man. I had assumed I would have my own room here. But apparently, not only will I be sharing a bed, but a bathroom too! 

The fact that I won't have any of my own personal space fills me with anxiety. Contacting Jaimie via the cell phone he gave me is going to be so much harder now! 

I hear the shower turn off. I finish unpacking, lining up my shoes in the closet. I leave all of my toiletries in my suitcase to bring to the bathroom. I make sure the box of menstrual pads hiding the phone is well hidden. I have nowhere to put my teddy bears, so I just leave them in my suitcase along with my journal, which I place by the door, ready to transport to the bathroom. I can only hope he doesn't decide to go through it. 

Unpacking finished, I'm not sure what to do with myself. I decide to simply sit down on the bed and wait for Malachi to finish up in the bathroom. 

I don't wait long. My stomach tightens at the sound of the door opening. Malachi strolls in looking sexy as hell, wearing only sweatpants hanging from his hips— his toned stomach and muscular arms on display. He catches me admiring his body and smirks at me. 

"Take a picture; it will last longer."

"If you don't wish to be stared at, you might consider wearing a shirt," I retort, scowling.

He laughs. "I'll wear what's comfortable. As for you, I'll introduce you to my first house rule. When you are waiting for my arrival, you'll wait on spread knees with your arms stretched out in front of you, forehead to the floor. Show me now. Off the bed— kneel at my feet."

I glare at him, hesitating. Am I really going to let him dominate me like this? What a power trip! 

As if sensing my internal struggle, Malachi strides towards me. I cry out as he grabs me by the hair, pulling me off the bed and pushing me to the ground.

"You will obey, whore—but if you need to be punished first, I am happy to oblige."

"Fuck you, Malachi!" I glare up at him, all my pent up anger and frustration at my illogical attraction to him—despite the loathsome way he treats me—suddenly spews out of me. "Does it make you feel like a big powerful man to hit a woman?" I glare up at him. I know I'm treading dangerously here, but I suddenly can't help myself. 

Malachi shakes his head at me, a menacing glint in his eyes. 

I think I fucked up.

When he lunges for me, I attempt to scurry away, but with nowhere to go, he easily grabs me around the arms and manhandles me to the bed, forcing me face down and dragging me onto his lap. As he pins me down with one arm across my back, he roughly yanks my pajama bottoms down with the other. I struggle to escape him, but he easily holds me in place and spanks me hard— several times. Then he lets me go.

I leap off his lap in a hurry and angrily pull my pajamas back up. 

"I have no need to prove my power to you, Jaycee, but you clearly need to be reminded who is in control here. Are you ready to obey me now, or do you need me to spank you again?" 

I'm furious— at him, and at our fucked up society.

"You have no right to treat me this way! This is fucked up!" I shriek.

"I guess I have my answer." As Malachi calmly rises to his feet, I bolt for the door. As my hand grasps the doorknob, he catches up to me, an arm circling waist. 

"Stop! Let me go!" I cry, hysterically.

Again, he pulls me back to the bed and forces me onto his lap, yanking my pants down and delivering several more stinging spanks to my sore ass. 

"Are you ready to obey?" he says quietly.

The way he is calmly punishing me like I'm a stubborn child having a tantrum infuriates me. The throbbing pain of my inflamed ass only adds fuel to my anger. I lift myself up from his lap. 

And spit in his face.

He grabs me before I can try to run.

"You're in trouble now, whore."

My anger turns to fear as he grabs my hair and yanks me towards his set of drawers. He pulls out several items and then drags me back to the bed. He pushes me face down onto the mattress and climbs on top of my back. I don't struggle. I have foolishly brought this punishment on myself and there is nothing to do but suffer through it at this point. I hear the sound of unwinding duct tape, and then he's holding my wrists with one hand and swiftly winding the tape around them with the other.

He feeds a length of chain between my wrists, hooking it through the tape, and then hoists my arms up over my head. I let myself go limp, allowing him to maneuver me like a rag doll. He attaches the chain to a metal ring in the bed frame above my head, forcing me onto tiptoe.

His hands catch the bottom of my pajama top, pulling it up around my bound wrists, exposing my breasts and belly. Then he yanks my pajama bottoms the rest of the way off. He grabs the tape and winds it several times around my ankles, binding them together. I'm left dangling by my wrists.

Malachi smirks at me. "Not so fiery, now— are you whore? That's what enticed me to bring you home with me, you know. I figured you'd be fun to subdue." He picks up a flogger and drags it along my cheek, cruelly dragging out the suspense of my punishment.

He takes a step back, assessing me. "Hmm… one more thing." He moves to retrieve something else from his drawers. He returns with a blindfold, which he places over my eyes. "Now because I am not heartless, I will deliver this first set of ten lashes to your chest. We'll see how obedient you are after that. If a second set of ten lashes are required, your ass will take it next. I'd hate to re-open those wounds from the other night…"

He stops talking, leaving me with that threat. I tense in fear, waiting for the pain. I scream when the flogger strikes me between the breasts. 

He hits me a second time.

I shriek when the third lash lands on my nipple. 

He continues to whip me, the punishing burn spreading through both my breasts. By the tenth stroke, my entire chest is burning, and I've wet the blindfold with my tears.

"Alright," Malachi says. "Are you ready to obey me?"

My chest is on fire. I can't imagine taking this pain to existing welts on my ass— these whips hurt like hell.

"Yes, sir," I say immediately.

"Alright. Let's test that. We'll play a game." He pulls off the blindfold and unclips the chain. "On your knees."

I obey him, warily, dropping to my knees at his feet. 

"Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to tell you what to say, and you're going to look me in the eyes and say it like the obedient whore you are. If I am not fully satisfied with your performance, I will give you a warning hit with the flogger. You get three warnings. If you fuck up again, you get ten more lashes to your ass. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I say meekly.

"Good…. To start, tell me how you're a pathetic whore and that your only purpose is to please men with your holes."

I purse my lips before I can stop myself. His arm raises to hit me with the flogger, and I reflexively cower behind my arms to protect myself from the blow. I cry out when the sting of the flogger connects with my forearms. 

He drops to a crouch in front of me, pulling my head back roughly by my hair and forcing my chin up with the base of his flogger. 

"Strike one. I don't want to see any displays of attitude. The purpose of this game is for you to prove that you have learned your lesson and are ready to be obedient. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," I whisper.

"Good girl." He rises back to a stand. "Now, tell me what you were told to."

I take a deep breath before speaking. "I'm a pathetic whore, and my only purpose is to please men with my holes."

"That's right. Now tell me that your three holes are mine to fuck whenever I want."

"My holes are yours to fuck whenever you want." I can feel the ghost of the anger that had been flogged out of me threatening to reignite, but I push it down. 

"Good. Now tell me your body is mine to piss on whenever I feel like it."

I look away, disturbed; the incident in Leo's bathtub runs through my mind. I don't mean to, but I must glower slightly because before I can open my mouth, his arm is in motion delivering a stinging lash to my right breast. I scream.

"Strike two. Look at me," he demands.

I bite my lip to hold back tears as I shift my gaze back to his. I hate that my words come out wobbly. "M-my body is yours to piss on whenever you f-feel like it."

Malachi is smiling triumphantly. He's enjoying this, the bastard. 

He steps closer to me and strokes my hair like I'm his pet, further increasing my sense of humiliation. I stiffen. 

He suddenly scoops me up in a cradle and sits down on the bed with me on his lap. He's abandoned the flogger. Perhaps he's that confident in my defeat.

"Tell me you'll eagerly open your legs for all of the guests I wish to entertain," he whispers into my ear. As he says this he places his hand on my upper inner thigh and gently caresses me.

"I'll eagerly open my legs for all the guests you wish to entertain," I whisper. I feel shame for letting him win— for not being willing to take more pain. But it's nothing compared to the shame I feel when my pussy lights up at the intimacy of his nearness and his touch. 

"That's a good girl," he says quietly into my ear. His hand continues to stroke my thigh, and I find myself relaxing into his touch. 

As much as I want to hold onto some of my anger to protect my dignity, I can't help but realize that I very much prefer this gentle touch to spanking and whipping. Would it really be so bad to obey this man?

"Tell me, my little whore, that you'll do whatever I ask— even if I ask you to lick shit off the bottom of my shoe."

I close my eyes. This is the real test. Am I really willing to submit to this man? How far would he go to prove his dominance? I most definitely would never stoop as low as to lick shit, but I decide that I'm willing to say I would if it means he'll continue to stroke me gently rather than wallop my swollen ass.

"I'll lick shit off your shoes if you ask me to, sir." I whisper, a part of me hating myself for letting him manipulate me, while another part is ready to stop fighting and let him make me feel good.

He leans closer, touching his lips to my neck in a barely discernible kiss. "Good girl."

Chapter 1
Pretty Little Whore:
A Freeuse Society of Hedone Novel, BOOK 2

Malachi pulls me roughly by the leash away from the director's office towards the exit of the Community Cunt Center. I struggle to carry my heavy bag of belongings in my pink stilettos. It doesn't help that tears have blurred my vision. He doesn't offer to help me with my bag; instead, without slowing his pace, he tells me to keep up.

"Would you slow down?" I finally ask, irritably. 

I gasp when I find myself forced against the wall by a firm hand around my neck, but it's the intensity of his gaze that really makes me squirm.

"We haven't even made it out of the center, yet you need to be punished so soon?" 

"No, sir," I say quickly. 

He chuckles. "I won't tolerate being spoken to like that." 

How he manages to sound so threatening when speaking so softly is beyond me. What is even more of a mystery is why my pussy lights up at the threat.

"I'm sorry, sir; please forgive me," I murmur. 

He smirks. "Actions have consequences, little whore. You'll learn." He lets go of my neck. "Turn around, drop your jeans, and bend over." 

My mouth drops open at the indignity of his request. Really? Will I give him the satisfaction of having me so willingly submitting to my own punishment?

"Don't make me ask a second time. Or I will make the consequences a lot worse for you."

The threat in his eyes has me backing down. Fear wins this time.

I bite my lip to hold back a glare and turn around, my cheeks turning pink with anger and embarrassment as I unbutton my jeans. I pull them down to my thighs and fold over, feeling vulnerable as I offer over my panty clad ass to his punishing authority.

He promptly pulls my panties down and whistles. "Wow, that guy really did a number on you the other night. That's not going to make this punishment pleasant for you. You might consider the state of your ass the next time you decide to give me attitude."

He fists my hair and delivers a stinging spank to my injured ass. I cry out, as much from the injury to my ass as to my ego.

Four more times he spanks me before pulling me back to a stand by my hair. He grabs hold of my leash and gives it a tug. "Walk, whore." He continues his long strides down the hall. I stumble after him, face hot with embarrassment.

We pass security who scans my collar and reads the notes that come up on my file. "She's been cleared to go home with Malachi Davenport— that you sir? I'll need to see some ID." 

Malachi pulls out his driver's license and holds it out for the security guard to inspect. 

"Alright. You're good to go," the guard says.

Malachi nods at him and pulls me along through the exit. I feel incredibly foolish struggling to keep up with his brisk pace with four inches of heel attached to my feet. A rush of anger floods through me. 

I'd like to see how he manages in stilettos!

I'm relieved when he stops in front of a navy blue truck and opens the passenger door for me. Only now does he take my heavy bag containing all of my belongings from me and toss it into the back. He walks around to his side and slides in while I buckle my seat belt. He starts the ignition and looks over at me, an amused smile on his face. "You ready?" he asks.

I glare at him, furious, and ignore his question. Does he think it is funny to force a woman to carry a heavy bag across a parking lot in stilettos, after spanking her injured ass no less?

"I asked you a question, whore."

"Yes, I'm ready." I grumble.

"Is something bothering you?" He looks at me with raised brows.

I could slap him. "Yes, actually," I snap. "It is incredibly rude to force me to carry my own bag while I have no choice but to wear these fucking shoes!"

"You seem like the type of girl who would reject a gentlemanly offer from a man. Am I wrong?"

"You could at least offer," I grumble. 

"Maybe I like it when you're angry."

He suddenly leans towards me, grabbing the back of my head and kissing me forcefully, catching me completely off guard. He pulls away just as fast, but not before sending a shockwave of arousal to my pussy. In the split second that his lips were on mine, he somehow managed to fully claim my mouth, leaving me breathless and flustered.

He laughs at what I can only assume is a dumbstruck expression on my face. 

He pulls on his seatbelt and turns some music on, before turning to me once more. "When I approached the director about adopting you, I wasn't expecting him to be so eager to take me up on my offer. You've been quite the troublemaker, heh?"

I glare at him, indignantly, offended to hear that the director was so gung-ho to get rid of me. 

I scoff, my anger bubbling to the surface. "Can you blame me? The way we're treated at the center! It's baffling to me that men actually expect women to put up with this shit!"

"Oh, Jaycee, my naive little whore. I'll clue you in to a little secret. Men fully expect women to resist their lot in life—we delight in forcing you into submission. And the more you resist, the more I have the pleasure of punishing you. Make sense?"

I glare at him. I recall having a similar conversation with Leo. "Why are men such assholes?" I say angrily.

"You like it. Don't pretend that it doesn't get your whore pussy wet when a man exerts power over you."

"The hell it does!"

"Well, we'll just have to test out that claim, and I will delight in proving you wrong. Let's use this drive as a test."

When I glare at him, confused, he smirks at me and elaborates— "What better way for you to submit to me than with your mouth around my cock?"

He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock free.

"And what if I refuse?" I stare at him defiantly.

"Then I'll drag you by the hair from this vehicle and punish your sore ass until you change your mind."

"I hate you. Men are bullies." 

"Go ahead and hate me, whore— makes no difference to me."

I glare at him, but I remove my seatbelt and crawl halfway over the center console so that I'm supporting myself with my forearms on his lap.

"Oh, and if you're dumb enough to sink your teeth into me, you can kiss goodbye to sleeping tonight."

One of his hands weaves into my hair and holds me firmly in place as I take his tip into my mouth.

He shifts the truck into drive, and we're on our way.

My jaw is throbbing by the time we arrive at what I assume to be Malachi's address. When he pulls into a carport, I ease my mouth off of his hard cock, a string of saliva still connecting us. 

"Mmm… thanks for that, little whore. I'll have to consider adding road head to your list of regular obligations."

I scowl at him. "If we got in a car accident, I'd likely die."

"I'll get you a safety harness. I used to strap my dog in that way."

My scowl intensifies. I don't appreciate the comparison. 

Malachi hops out, so I follow suit while taking a moment to observe my surroundings. Given that I was occupied on the drive, I have no idea where we are. We're in front of a strip of townhouses that look fairly new; I'd guess they were built in the last 5 years or so. The area is attractively maintained with a strip of manicured grass dividing the pathways to each unit. It's nice. If I wasn't forced to come live here against my will, I'd be quite pleased with my accommodations.

Malachi walks over to me, distracting me from my observations by grabbing hold of the leash hanging from my neck. He wraps his other hand around my neck and forces me backwards until my back hits the side paneling of the building. I glare up at him.

"Shall we check up on the results of our little experiment?" he says with a grin.

I gasp when he shoves his hand down my pants and into my panties, forcing his fingers between my folds.

"It's just as I thought," he says triumphantly. "Wet as a bitch in heat. Now that we've got that misunderstanding cleared up, we can return to more important matters. You've got me aroused, whore, and I want you to finish the job. On your knees. Now." 

He places his hands on my shoulders and applies downward pressure.

"Get on your knees. Or would you prefer I spank you first?"

I glare at him and kneel.

He pulls out his cock. "Open, whore." 

I swallow my pride as I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his cock. He immediately forces himself into my throat, making me gag. 

He laughs and holds me tightly by the hair, his other hand resting on the back of my head, forcing himself deep once again.

"The director mentioned that your deep throating skills need work. I assured him I'd provide you with plenty of daily training and practice. Submit your throat to me, whore."

Anger and humiliation make me feel sick. I hate that I struggle to take a cock deep. It's a weakness that men continue to shove in my face— no pun intended.

What makes this whole situation that much worse is I can't help but remember that the last cock I had taken deep into my throat was Jaimie's. For Jaimie I was able to take his cock down my throat for a few seconds without gagging— a big achievement for me and my sensitive gag reflex. There's no way I'll be able to achieve that right now given how angry and stressed I am. 

"Fucking take it, whore." 

He fucks my throat aggressively while I reflexively struggle to get away. But he only tightens his grip on my hair. I claw at his hands while he mercilessly holds me in place until I feel his cum shoot down my throat. 

When he releases me, I fall to my hands and knees, spewing his release and what remains of the waffles Jaimie fed me this morning onto the grass. 

Malachi stares down at me, clearly unimpressed, and shakes his head dismissively. "Pathetic. You're lucky you're pretty." 

With snot and tears on my cheeks and frothy residues of cum and vomit on my lips, I look up at him, furious at his success at making me feel every bit the used whore.

He leaves me on the grass while he retrieves my bag from the truck. I desperately try to dredge up a shred of dignity, but before I can even rise to my feet, he grabs my leash with his free hand. "Get up." 

Feeling unsteady with humiliation and defeat, I rise miserably to my feet and follow his lead to the door. At least he carries my bag for me this time. He unlocks the door and pulls me into the unit. Trying to hold back tears, I follow his lead up a set of carpeted stairs. He guides me to a bathroom and hands me my bag. 

"Clean yourself up. Join me in the kitchen when you're ready." He removes the leash from my neck and gives me a little push into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. 

Finally left alone with my emotions,, I let my tears fall freely. I remove my clothes to get into the shower, feeling incredibly grateful to have some time to myself to pull myself together and regain my dignity.

I turn on the hot water and sigh as the warmth and pressure of the water washes away the residues of vomit and cum from my face. I would happily stay under the comfort of the hot water for the rest of the evening. I wonder how large his hot water tank is. No doubt Malachi will pound on the door if I take too long though. I wash and condition my hair and lather myself off before reluctantly turning off the soothing water.

I feel so much better after my shower. I've dried my hair and pulled on my silky pink pajamas. Now that I am calm, I remember the cell phone I have hidden at the bottom of my box of menstrual pads. The urge to pull it out to text Jaimie for some comfort is incredibly strong, but I know that would be a foolish move. Malachi could burst in at any moment. It's comforting to know that I have it in my possession though— that Jaimie is just a text message away. 

When I open the bathroom door I'm met with the delicious scent of something savory wafting up from downstairs. I follow the smell to the kitchen and am surprised to see Malachi preparing a stir fry on the stove. 

"Sit," he tells me, nodding towards the kitchen bar stools. I am suddenly famished, realizing that I skipped both lunch and dinner during the trauma of discovering my imminent adoption. 

"Thank-you," I murmur, taking a seat. I nearly drool when he places a bowl of stir-fried veggies and tofu over rice noodles in front of me. 

I hesitate for a moment in case he has any special instructions for me, but he just fills a bowl for himself and sits down beside me. 

He seems amused at my hesitation. "Go ahead."

I happily dig in. Frankly I'm surprised that he's letting me eat off the table like a normal human. He seems like the type to try to humiliate me at every opportunity. 

He doesn't say anything for the duration of the meal, content to focus on eating. I realize that I have no idea what to expect from this man. Being served a home cooked meal was the last thing I expected to be waiting for me after my shower. 

I'm sad to have finished eating, simply because I don't want the normalness of the experience to end. I fear what Malachi will demand of me next. 

"Place your bowl in the sink and follow me," he says when he notices my empty bowl.

My stomach clenches. Here we go.