No.

Her optimism didn't last long. From pain to pleasure to pain and back, her ruthless captor and his two unflappable accomplices had her begging within minutes for sanctuary and cum. It wasn't a pretty sight: a strong, powerful, and self-possessed woman so undignified. But it pleased the detective, so much so he even kept at it despite receiving word via his pager that the young lady had nothing to do with the drug trade and the background check had turned up nothing save a few tickets and other misdemeanors. Ah, such is life on the drug squad. Few actual criminals, but a great deal of boastable arrests.

Max had been on the edge for a little while now, and Suthers was starting to feel as though he'd tortured her enough. She was sweaty, out of breath, and her nipples were poking through her tight, blue tank top. The radio was playing the smooth melody, and Max was lolling from side to side.

Suthers approached, took a long, deep look down her cleavage, and pulled the shoulders of her jacket back. She hardly seemed to reach, or care. He grabbed a boob and squeezed. She inhaled sharply.

"Rarely do I find someone quite so strong and attractive at the same time. Most of the people they bring me to are men, and the women are generally much older or sickly."

He played around with her nipple through her clothes. She moaned; he kneaded. If only a sober version of her could see this: how pliable she was, how consenting.

He gestured to one of the two cops to turn off the radio. As the tune fell, so slowly did her defiance's slumber. As the seconds passed and the detectives groping continued, some awareness returned to her. She blinked, as if waking. Suthers smiled. She looked up and glared at him, but the arousal weighing strongly on her. Her breaths were still heavy and deep. She was sneering, but not fighting. Her nipples were still hard.

"Wakey, wakey," he jested. "How are we feeling?"

She said nothing. Her gaze fell to his hand, which he took as his cue for a good squeeze. She jolted in her chair.

"Get your hands off of me," she ordered slowly. She had to squeeze the words in between her breathes.

"You have to admit that you like it. The whole purpose of this exercise was to bring you past lying."

She leered, but at the gentle rubbing of her left nipple, her lips parted and her voice whimpered. She was docile, but still defiant. It would make this fools errand worth it.

He reached down, popped the button on her jeans, and lowered the zipper. With a finger, he lifted her underwear.

Then he whistled like he was calling a dog. Max let out a sigh as the thing released its hold on her. She looked down and watched it slither out and into the detectives hand. She felt... a void, stretched and empty.

After placing his pet on the table, the detective turned back to her sweaty, defeated form. Then he unbuckled his own slacks. Max found herself watching.

"I'll tell you what," he said, opening his fly and pushing down his boxers. "I will let you off, and I do mean off in every sense, if you suck my cock until I fill you. How does that sound?" By the end of his question, he'd already pulled his dick from his trousers. Max was salivating, but her wits were coming back to her.

"Not a chance, you creep." She looked back up into his eyes. He didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure," he asked, stepping closer. "You seem... a little flustered."

His erect dick was about two inches from her face. His hand, giving one tit a quick squeeze, traveled down her stomach. Max quivered.

"I'm-- not gonna-- suck your fucking dick after you shackled and tortured me you son of a bitch."

"Really?" he said, pleased. "Are you quite sure?"

His hand was in her panties now. His fingers ran along her slit. Max was shivering: nervous, aroused, and a little scared of herself. She struggled to keep herself from closing her eyes. He traced her lips. She let out a quiet moan.

Max's mouth was open, but that was just because she was getting her vulva massaged and she was moaning. What had nothing to do with her bodies natural, involuntary response to a little genital teasing was how her head was leaning forward and her tongue was prepping to lap at the underside of her captor's dick.

When she tasted him, sweat, skin, pre-cum, and all, that's when the part of her brain she called 'Max' realized what she was doing. By then, it was too late. He was massaging her clit now, with more vigor than the slug's gentle touch but enough grace so that she could actually enjoy it. Max was getting what she needed and she didn't have the willpower left to resist. She opened her eyes and watched the detective take pleasure in her willing mouth, and found just enough dignity to hate him. She loved it: what he was doing down there, and part of her enjoyed the taste of him, but she rationalized it all out such that she was the real one in control here, not him. She was using him to get off and what was happening between her lips was just the price of getting there. It was easier to think of it like that, and it made her feel a lot less ashamed of herself when she began sucking him off in earnest. She'd never call herself a slut, or anything.

Just as she felt the first twitches of his impending orgasm, he pressed himself deep into her mouth and let himself cum. She might have been able to control it, and swallow his ejaculation in some tidy, well-executed manner, but just as the cum began to fire he had brought her to her own orgasm and her body was too wracked with pleasure to make it happen. She had never been teased this long before, and the fallout was amazing. She was chocking and cum was spattering everywhere but she didn't care. It was beyond any orgasm she'd had before.

Suthers had tried to keep his dick in her, but it had proved difficult with all the writhing. While a few loads filled her throat, the next few hit her breasts and chin. If he had the sense to bring his camera, he could be making a fortune of the snapshots he could capture right now. She was just so damn satisfied and well coated. He smiled. She would hate him forever soon.

"Well," he said formally. "I have much to do. Drugs certainly aren't going anywhere soon." He packaged the last slug, and placed their case and the radio back in his suitcase. By the time Max had gotten a handle on herself, he was already packed, zipped up, and halfway out the door. Suthers took one look back, savoured the scorn in her eyes, and said to his two pals: "I made her have her first. Whatever dozen she has left in her, I leave to you."

He threw the door open, strode down the hall, and let the it close with a loud, echoing clang on his way out.

Max was still bound, horny, and trapped in a room with two eager men.