Nicole's heart raced when she was called a good girl. The acknowledgment not only uplifted her spirits but also instilled a sense of self-fulfillment and contentment in her. She found a newfound happiness in this recognition, a satisfaction that was serene and yet palpable. This praise, simple yet potent, made her blush with excitement, stirring a delightful flurry within. It felt like a warm embrace that made her heart flutter, infusing her with an alluring blend of passion and vitality. Nicole was lost in her reverie and flood of emotions when she felt Pollack clamp a hand around her throat. With a strong grip he lifted his arm that was still very attached to Nicole’s throat. She struggled to breathe as her fear quickly spiked and her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. She struggled to stand and relieve the pressure against her wind pipe, squeezing out a small choking sound as she half stood and was half lifted. The pressure eased as she was fully standing, weak as her knees were. She was unsteady, and found her self sliding into a heavy blanket of fear, feeling the transition from bliss to this quickly. The stark contrast of feelings left her anxiously wondering what she’d done. She realized this was still essentially a play rape, and marveled at how quickly Pollack was able to trigger such strong and opposing reactions from her. Pollack grabbed a sit full of hair and shoved her towards the bed. She was flung onto the bed and landed on her stomach. He was on her in a flash, shoving her face down into the sheets and holding her there, squirming and whimpering. She felt his breath on her ear, as he moaned into ear that he “loved her helpless and whimpering”. These words sent electricity thru her body straight to her clit. Her pussy absolutely throbbed while she could barely breathe with fear permeating her. He smacked her hard on the ass, hard enough for her to cry out in pain. “Raise your ass you dirty little whore!” Pollack's directive to Nicole was delivered with such authoritative presence that it elicited immediate compliance from her. His demeanor, infusing both firmness and an understated intensity, inspired a complex response in Nicole. She found herself drawn into a paradoxical state where she harbored a profound desire to heed his instructions, yet simultaneously carried an apprehension of the potential repercussions of failing to meet his expectations. His command catalyzed an inherent need within her to demonstrate her competence, a sense of responsibility that was laced with a subtle hint of fear. This emotionally charged dynamic, oscillating between aspiration and trepidation, kept Nicole on her toes, continually driving her to strive for excellence. Nicole quickly raised her ass, sliding to her knees, her face still pushed into the mattress. She gasped for breath as she slightly spread her legs, anticipating Pollack exploring her with his hands and fingers. He did neither, as he reached between her legs and grabbed her hand, yanking it backwards and between her legs. He yanked her arm back hard until her wrist was nearly next to her ankle. He quickly snapped a cuff over her left hand and cuffed the other side to the left ankle. Her body was contorted and stretched painfully as she felt him grab her right hand and cuffed it just as roughly. He stood back then, looking at his helpless prize, admiring the view of Nicole restrained and open for him. His choice of either hole, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Nicole lay there, face still buried in the bed. She could not move, to relieve the pressure. She was barely able to turn her head sideways to breathe, and her arms stretched and cuffed in this manner arched her downwards, applying a constant pressure to the bed for her shoulders and face. The psychological aspect of Nicole's restrained state was as profound as it was complex. She found herself helplessly bound, a condition that left her acutely vulnerable and intensely exposed. The raw, visceral sense of powerlessness stirred a wave of emotions within her, evoking feelings that were distressing yet strangely captivating. However, amidst this whirlpool of vulnerability, Nicole began to discern an unexpected reaction within herself. She discovered a surprising enjoyment of the situation, an inexplicable fascination that transcended the discomfort and fear associated with her predicament. There was a sense of exhilaration in the surrender, a thrill in the uncertainty, that she found herself oddly drawn towards. Despite the challenges and apprehensions, she relished this experience, finding it to be a novel, enlightening journey of self-discovery. Pollack derived a peculiar satisfaction from seeing Nicole in her restrained, helpless state. There was something compelling about the tableau before him, an image of vulnerability and submission that stirred something within him. The sight of Nicole, so evidently out of her element and yet so resilient, aroused a complex mixture of emotions. He savored these moments, absorbing the intense aura of the scene. However, after a while, he found himself wrestling with an internal shift. The passive observance was no longer enough, and he felt an insistent urge to engage more directly. The longer he watched Nicole straggle with her bindings, her weakening resistance excited him. His cock stiffened and grew, throbbing each time Nicole whimpered. He stood, closing the distance between them and climbed up behind her. He reached forward, grabbing two fistfuls of her hair and pulling backwards, causing her to whimper loudly in pain, her back and body arching and tensing the bindings against her ankles and wrists. In one smooth, deep thrust Pollack took her, burying his cock deep inside her warm wet pussy. Nicole screamed out in surprise pleasure, and Pollack grinned, sliding back and thrusting home again, as hard as he could. He was going to love violating her holes. As I knelt there, cuffed, vulnerable and stripped of all defenses, a curious blend of sensations washes over me. It's as if I'm standing on the precipice of two worlds, straddling the fine line between surrender and liberation. My heart races in my chest, and my skin tingles with anticipation. At first, the feeling of exposure is almost overwhelming. The knowledge that I am laid bare, with nothing to hide behind, stirs a sense of vulnerability that's both thrilling and daunting. Every inch of my body is on display, my secrets laid bare for someone to see, to explore, to possess. The lack of control, the complete surrender of my autonomy, could be terrifying if it weren't for the exquisite trust I placed in Pollack. This trust was new and fragile and yet Pollack always seemed to stay just on the right side of my limits. Yet, within this vulnerability blooms a paradoxical sense of freedom. It's as if, by relinquishing control, I have found a space where I can truly be myself without judgment or inhibition. The weight of my responsibilities, my fears, and my inhibitions dissipates as I let go. In this moment of submission, I am free from the demands of everyday life, free from the need to make decisions, and free from the relentless pressure to be in control. I revel in the exquisite tension between my exposed vulnerability and my profound sense of liberation. My senses heighten, and I become acutely aware of every touch, every sensation, and every nuance of the moment. There's an intoxicating thrill in surrendering to another's desires, knowing that my pleasure is now in their hands, and my only task is to experience it fully. The power exchange, the delicate dance of trust and surrender, weaves a web of connection that is unlike anything else. In this moment, I am not just experiencing physical pleasure; I am experiencing an emotional and psychological release that transcends the bounds of everyday life. As I embrace the sensation of being completely exposed and helpless, I am paradoxically set free. The trust and intimacy of submission create a space where I can revel in the exquisite surrender, where vulnerability becomes my strength, and where I find a profound sense of fulfillment in the freedom of submission. That, and the sensation of Pollack’s cock sliding inside my throbbing cunt. My ass was raised, and he slowly slid in and out of me, leaning on me from behind, one hand pushing me down on my back and the other hand yanking my head up and backwards. The pressure and weight of him bearing down on me gave me a sense of being owned and used. My scalp burned from being yanked back by his closed fist of hair and the combination of all the sensations sent me over the edge. It was too much for me to handle and control my bodies reactions and I gave in, surrendering to orgasm as I cried out in pleasure. My body tingled from head to toe, an electric buzz that traveled in waves over me. I lay there, feeling his cock enter me, willing him to build towards orgasm and fill me with his warm seed. My cunt ached to be filled. I squeezed myself tighter as he thrust in, clenching and desperately trying to get him off. I was overcome with a compulsion to give him the best pussy he’s ever had. I wanted to be his total whore, forever. His whenever and however he wanted – a cum dump he could rely on. I did not know where these deep feelings of need came from, and I didn’t question it. Pollack fucked me how I wish every man would fuck me. I didn’t want him to care about me, or my pleasure. I existed for him and his cock. Pollack thrust harder, making me cry out and whimper. His cock pounded inside me, slick and wet from my throbbing cunt. I felt him begin to tense and his cock swelled inside me as he released and came. The warmth of Pollacks cum inside me spread thru my body, bringing me an instant sense of comfort and contentment. He stayed inside me, releasing his grip of my hair and sliding that hand around my throat. He squeezed, choking off my air. I felt a little frantic, falling forward as I reached to pull his hands away from my throat. His cock remained hard, still buried in my pussy. I felt him start to subside as he leaned forward and spoke in my ear. “Clench your cunt you little whore, get my cock hard again!”. He sounded terrifying, and he made my pussy gush. I didn’t think I could possibly get any wetter but then he went and surprised me. I felt his cock grow inside me as I clenched and tried desperately to get his cock hard and go again. I was rewarded by a filling sensation as his cock slid in all the way and I felt a fulfilling stretch only a large cock could give. His cock was slightly painful and yet completely satisfying. I knew I’d be sore later and I relished the thought of the dull ache that would remind me of Pollack every time I sat or walked.

Pollack fucked me like he would a cheap whore, slamming into my cunt over and over as I lost myself in waves of orgasms. I felt content, at peace being his holes. He slid out of my pussy and yanked my face toward his cock by two fists of hair and slammed his cock down my throat, instantly cumming and filling my mouth with his hot salty gift. Wordlessly, he slid on his pants and shirt. Smirking at me, he looked down at my naked, restrained form and told me I had gotten what I deserved. I heard him say that I was just a filthy whore, and filthy whores get used and abused. I wholeheartedly agreed, smiling up at him. He fished a key out of his jeans pocket and unlocked the cuffs, slipping them into his pocket with the key. My limbs screamed in protest as I was able to stretch out. He left wordlessly, leaving me there exhausted with the taste of his cock still on my lips.

Nicole startled awake from a deep slumber, lost in the tranquil embrace of dreams that seemed to dance on the edges of her consciousness. The world beyond her dreams had faded into the background, a distant and irrelevant place. But then, as the first rays of morning sunlight pierced through her curtains, she began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a room bathed in soft, golden light. Nicole lay there for a moment, dazed and disoriented, her mind struggling to catch up with the waking world. The last thing she remembered was drifting off to sleep after a long, exhausting night with Pollack As the haze of sleep gradually dissipated, Nicole's senses began to awaken, one by one. She became acutely aware of a dull sore ache in her legs, as if she had been running a marathon in her dreams. Her limbs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead, and the act of moving them seemed like an impossible feat. With great effort, Nicole pushed herself up into a sitting position, her muscles protesting the movement. She winced as she stretched her legs out in front of her, trying to relieve the stiffness. It was as if her muscles had been locked in place for an eternity. A few light hazy bruises shone on her wrists, her ankles, the backs of her thighs. As she stretched and flexed her legs, she became aware of another sensation—her scalp tingled as though a thousand tiny pins were pricking it. Nicole reached up and touched her head, her fingers encountering a tangled mess of hair. She winced as she realized that her hair and scalp were sore from being grabbed, yanked and used to subdue her and pin her in place the night before. With a sigh, Nicole swung her legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up, her legs wobbling beneath her as if they were made of jelly. The soreness in her limbs made her feel like an old woman, despite her young 20’s something age. She stumbled into the bathroom, hoping that a splash of cold water on her face would help clear her mind. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her wild, tangled hair. She reached for a hairbrush and began the arduous task of untangling the knots. As Nicole brushed her hair, she reflected on the strange journey from a months long dry spell. It was a journey filled with sensations—aches and tingles, heaviness and stiffness—all reminders that she was unaccustomed to being used so hard and put away wet. She knew that these sensations would persist as the day went on, serving as hot little reminders of how thoroughly she was used for Pollack’s pleasure. The thought brought on an impish smile as she showered and dressed for work. Nicole had always been a bit absent-minded, prone to daydreaming at the most inconvenient moments. As she walked to work that morning, her thoughts were consumed by memories of her evening with Pollack the night before. She couldn't help but smile as she replayed their conversation, the way his laughter had made her heart flutter, and the warmth of his touch. Lost in her reverie, she decided to make a pit stop at Starbucks for her usual morning coffee. She stood in line, her mind miles away, and barely registered the friendly barista taking her order. It was only when the barista called her name and she nearly knocked over her latte that she snapped back to reality, blushing with embarrassment. As she continued her walk to work, Nicole couldn't help but feel a spring in her step. The memories of the night before had put a certain glow in her cheeks, and she couldn't stop smiling. The world seemed brighter, and the bustling city around her felt like a backdrop to a love story she was living. Throughout the day, Nicole tried to focus on her work tasks, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Pollack. She checked her phone often, hoping to see a message from him, a simple "Good morning" that would brighten her day. But the hours passed, and her phone remained silent. As the afternoon dragged on, Nicole's patience began to wear thin. She couldn't understand why Pollack hadn't messaged her yet. The desire to hear from him was overwhelming. Finally, in the middle of a seemingly endless meeting, her phone dinged. She discreetly glanced at her watch, seeing the notification from Pollack on her phone. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt emotionally torn between the desire to finish the meeting and respond to him immediately. She rushed through her presentation, her words a blur, hoping that the meeting would miraculously end sooner than expected. And, blessedly, it did. As soon as the meeting concluded, Nicole quickly retrieved her phone.