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.