Sort-of

You start to cry again as your sitting there in your sweat and his spunk dripping out of your cunt. "Oh, don't cry Maddy, here's one silver for your trouble," he says as he slides a silver coin onto your breasts as if your a common whore.

"Are we good then?" You as he gets up and puts his trousers back on.

"Well, I won't brand ya as a thief, but you've just proven to me your a whore,"

"Wait, but I was a maid before now and I proved it to you," you say.

"Didn't ya just say ya're a fucking whore a minute ago and I just paid ya one silver coin?" He asks. You say nothing as you realize he's trapped you into this situation. This is what he wanted all along. This fat bastard pretends to be stupid, but he's fucked you, literally and metaphorically.

"The law is clear I gotta brand ya as a whore, but it would be a shame to ruin that pretty face of yars," he says as he bends over to pet your cheeks like a dog. "This face of yars goes nice with this hot little body and it would be ruined by a brand. I can't imagine ya'll make as much money as a scarred whore."

As he looks into your deep hazel eyes, you realize that though you hate this man who entrapped you into this situation, he is correct. If you're branded then there really is nobody who'll hire you for any legal work no matter how menial, and your only way to survive will be by making a living on your back.

"So, sweetie, the law states I have to brand yous omewhere visible to all people, but that doesn't have to be yar face. Just wherever I brand ya it has to be shown to all people or ya'll have to pay a fine or lose a hand. I can brand ya on your breast instead, for example," he states.

You're still bound, leaking with cum, and half naked on the side of the road. Though Doneti's club is nowhere to be seen it's unlikely you'll make it far anywhere without him catching you again. You'll have ****, but to let him brand you before he lets you go.