The director grabs my hair and pushes me off his lap. To my utter horror, he marches me out of his office by my hair in my fully nude state.

Thankfully, the hallway is empty, but from there he pulls me into the lounge, which is not! The room is crowded, and as he yanks me through, the room seems to pause to watch us pass. He bypasses the lineup at guest services and is immediately helped by an eager clerk.

"Give me a deluxe room," the director tells him, curtly.

"For sure, sir; give me one moment…" He types into his computer. "I'll get you into room 131; here's your key. I hope you enjoy your stay—"

The director snatches the key from his hand before he can finish and parades me out of the lounge by my hair.

He navigates the halls with ease and pulls me towards an unfamiliar room. The director unlocks the door, and only once we're through does he finally free my hair. For a brief moment I'm relieved to be back behind closed doors in my nude state, but then the anxiety kicks in.

"Grab me four lengths of rope from the wall," he immediately orders, not allowing me to catch my bearings.

I quickly scan the walls and see that they are lined with various items such as rope, floggers, and chain. I hurry to obey and hand them off to the director. He places three on the king sized bed behind us and begins to unwind the other.

"Place your hands on your shoulders, wrists and forearms together," he directs, leaving no room for argument.

I obey, knowing better than to challenge him.

He begins by wrapping the rope around my waist and tying it off. Then he winds the rope several times around my arms and chest, adding several munter hitch knots along the front and back to keep it in place. I can't help but begrudgingly admire the efficiency in which the director manipulates rope.

During my first year at the center, he would tie me up often—sometimes as punishment, sometimes as entertainment, and sometimes, I suspect, simply to blow off steam. I would never admit it to him, but if I can manage to stay in the immediate present, focusing only on the sensation of the rope against my skin, I can often tap into a sense of calm: the eye of the storm.

Unfortunately, my fragile sense of calm evaporates when he decides to talk to me. "Do you remember the night I first had my way with your tight virgin holes?" he's saying. "Oh, you were feral that first time. Little did you know that the way you fought and screamed only made my dick harder. For such a small girl you were surprisingly feisty—made it all the more fun to subdue you."
I tense at his words. I hate it when he brings up that night. I try to repress that memory as much as possible or else I'm tempted to claw his eyes out. Of course at the moment my arms are bound tightly to my chest in a harness.

He leans in at this point and speaks into my ear. "Now here you are, giving yourself to me to fuck without the slightest resistance. Perhaps you've grown rather fond of my cock inside of you?"

I stiffen and glare fiercely at the carpet. Don't react, Jaycee. He's just trying to get a rise out of you.

Feeding a hand into my hair, he leans my head to the side and slowly licks my face from my ear to my eye. Clearly he's trying to upset me. He knows how much I hate his saliva on my body, let alone my face.

Unfortunately, like a fool I fall for his trap. I reflexively jerk my head away from him in disgust and hiss, "don't!" before I can stop myself.

He laughs, his eyes gleaming at his victory. "You don't like me licking you, slut? Are you going to stop me?"

I direct my glare directly at him and take a defiant step away from me. Pointless and foolish I know, but my body is screaming at me to put distance between us. Unfortunately, I no longer have use of my arms.

He smirks at me and lunges.

I scream as he pushes me off balance. As I'm falling, he manhandles me onto the bed. He straddles me and holds my head in a vice grip.

I struggle and gnash my teeth at him as he leans over me, bringing his gloating face just inches from mine. "Sometimes I miss your fight, slut; do you feel how hard I'm growing for you?"
Then he licks me again, long and slow from my jaw up to my cheekbone. I shriek in revulsion and fury.

"I hate you," I say vehemently.

"Yet you have no choice but to submit to my every whim? Why is that, Jaycee?" he says in a mockingly gentle tone.

"Because you're a psycho, and you'll hurt me if I don't," I shoot back.

He smirks at me before leaning in close and brushing his lips and the tip of his tongue along my neck. "You submit, little slut, because you know how easily I can overpower you." He licks me again, this time along the entire length of my neck.

I tense and tremble, silently seething.

The second he's within range I spit at him. Fuck the consequences. It lands on his cheek and drips onto the bed.

The director gets a nasty glint in his eyes.

"I see you're wanting to put your mouth to work, slut. Why didn't you just say so?"

I shriek when he lunges at me, grabbing my legs and spinning me 180 degrees. He pulls be by the harness until my head dangles off the bed.

I know it's coming, but I still enter a full panic when he shoves his cock down my throat. I'll never grow used to that terrifying violation, and having my arms restrained multiplies the fear and feeling of suffocation.

He lets me choke around him for several seconds before he pulls out, mercifully allowing me a breath. "Please!" I manage to cry out.

I'm shocked when he actually pauses. "You have something to say, slut?"

"I'm s-sorry! Please no more!"

He cups my face with his hand. "I love it when you beg, baby. Will you beg me to lick your face instead?"

"Y-yes, sir." As much as I detest having my face licked, it is the far better option to choking in a state of panic.

"Alright; have it your way."

He drags me back on the bed by my legs and straddles me once again.

"Go ahead and beg, slut."

"Please will you lick my face, sir?" I mumble, miserably.

"Try harder."

"I need you to lick my face, sir; please, would you?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

He leans in and this time I don't cry out when he traces my face with his tongue; I just recoil internally and try not to focus on the warm wet sensation.

"You like that, slut?" he breathes.

He licks my face thoroughly, fully painting me in his saliva: my forehead, both cheeks, my nose, my chin, and my lips. I'm revolted by the wet residue his tongue leaves behind.

It makes me feel disgusting and deeply unhappy. I want nothing more than to wipe it off, but the director is on top of me and my arms are bound.

When he's satisfied with the misery of my submission, he finally pulls away. "Alright, time to string you up so I can sheath my cock with your other tight holes.

He gets off of me, dragging me by the harness off of the bed.

"Get on your knees."
I obey, miserably sinking to the ground at his feet.

He picks up the second rope and feeds it through a metal suspension point in the ceiling before attaching it to the back of my harness. He pulls on the rope to hoist me up before securing that end as well. I am hanging face down by my chest with my legs barely able to reach the ground behind me.

"Now for the fun part. Lift up one of your legs."

I don't have a choice but to obey at this point.

He feeds another rope through the suspension point and uses it to ties the backs of my calves to my thighs. It's uncomfortable, the ropes digging into my sensitive skin.

I'm now dangling by the ceiling with my arms and legs fully immobilized for the director to use however he wants to. My anger has fizzled out leaving me feeling defeated, helpless, and vulnerable; to my utter disgrace, I also feel aroused, creating a sense of humiliation at my lack of self respect.

"Such a good, pussy," he murmurs, running a finger through the moisture. "She's already so wet for me, even before I've given her her special treat."

I hear a strange sound before I feel a plastic object against my vaginal opening. Whatever it is feels like a small animal, gently sucking and nibbling. A rush of pleasure floods through me; I can't help but moan and open up in invitation.

"That's it; open up fully for me, slut."

I writhe in pleasure against the mysterious sucking object. Whatever it is, it's wiped the sense of humiliation from my mind; all I can think about is the blissful growing tension between my legs. At the moment I don't give a fuck who is responsible.

As the pleasure accelerates, soft whimpers escape my mouth. I'm going to come.
At that moment, the director removes the sucking device. I moan in frustration as my orgasm evaporates.

"If you're going to come, little slut, it's going to be with my cock inside of you."

I feel his cock at my entrance just a second before he's sinking inside of me. I'm ashamed that the carnal part of me is simply grateful to be filled in that moment, even as the rest of me cringes in distaste. The former wins out, however, as the director thrusts slow and deep, massaging my g-spot.

"Thatta girl. Squeeze my cock."

Arrgh. I hate that I'm giving him exactly what he wants, but I'm simply too aroused and needy to care. It's not long before my body is tensing around him in preparation for another attempt at climax. The director picks up his pace, encouraging me along.

"That's it. Come on my cock, baby, like the fucking slut you are," he breathes into my ear.

My body obeys him even as my mind curses my weakness.

"Such a good cunt," the director murmurs as I come apart around him.

Once my orgasm has subsides, shame immediately takes the place of my pleasure. The director pulls out and walks around to face me. I hate the cocky grin on his face. He's won and he knows it.

"Taste yourself, slut." To seal my sense of humiliation and self loathing, he pulls my head up by my hair and shoves his cock in my face. Scowling, I open my mouth for him and he plunges his tip inside.

"Do you taste how eager your pussy was to swallow my cock, baby?"

He pulls out and walks back to stand between my legs.

My stomach clenches when I suddenly guess where this is leading. Sure enough, he rubs his hand over my pussy and spreads my arousal to my ass.

I close my eyes in defeat.

"Your ass has always been my favourite hole, slut. No matter how much it is used, it never fails to be a deliciously tight sleave for my cock."

I whimper when he lines up his cock with my back entrance. He holds me in place by my harness and plunges his tip into my ass. I cry out as my body resists his intrusion.

"Relax, baby. You're going to surrender your last hole to me and I'm going to fill it with my cum. Just as I did three year ago. Do you remember how it felt when little ass spasmed around my thickness that first time?"

Of course I remember. My brain has not done me the favor of allowing me to block it out. I don't want to relax for him, but disobeying would only cause myself intense pain. So I let him in.

"Yes… that's a good slut, giving your ass to daddy." He grabs my hair, pulling my head back as he thrusts his full length into my ass.

I let my tears fall as he begins to pound me.

Author's Note:

This is CHAPTER 33 from the novel I am writing, Pretty Little Whore: A Freeuse Society of Hedone Novel, BOOK 2.