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."