You convince yourself the worst is over

By the time the other men have left you're weeping brokenly, shuddering on the couch as your battered mind tries to function. Through tear flooded eyes you can see Mr. Chandler getting dressed, coldly ignoring your distraught crying.

Surely he can't mean it, you tell yourself. He's just trying to scare you. Oh, he'll probably fuck you again, you have no doubt of that, and your pussy throbs at the thought of another hard bout of pounding meat, but he won't call some horrible men to take you away to a short life of sexual servitude. He just can't be that cruel, you tell yourself. Besides, he's a business executive, not a gangster. Where would he even know such people.

Gathering your courage, you manage to control your sobbing and wipe the tears off your cheeks. Your holes are oozing cream, reminding you of how hard these ruthless men used you. And how much you loved it, despite your shame and terror. Being used and degraded like that gave you orgasms unlike any you've had before and you give a soft moan at the thought of how hard you came.

Mr. Chandler is ignoring you, sitting at his desk and flicking through some spreadsheets on his laptop. You give a little shudder of excitement at the memory of his hard cock ravishing your sweet cunt and your tight ass, telling yourself again that he is only trying to scare you, to make you fully compliant and remorseful.

Well if he wants compliant, you can give him compliant you think to yourself, feeling your belly start to flutter with excitement. You slide off the couch and rise to your feet, beggining to sway towards him as you put a sultry smile on your face that widens as he looks up from his laptop and regards you.