Chloe awoke in her own bed, her entire body sore in a way she didn't recognize. Her arms ached, her hamstrings were tight, and, most notably, her pussy was throbbing from the inside out. She blinked away the sleep and tentatively stretched, working her brain to remember what had caused these unfamiliar sensations. She froze as it all started coming back to her and immediately brought her knees to her chest in an attempt to protect herself from the onslaught of traumatic memories of the night before.
Simply put, her neighbor, boss, and somewhat of a father figure had raped, blackmailed, and broken her down. He had presented her with an impossible choice- comply as his own personal fucktoy or lose all of her babysitting jobs, which meant a complete loss of income, surrogate family members, community, and sense of security in her own home. She would be shunned by the parents she had come to think of as her own, and cut off from the children she had grown to love and rely on for connection and socialization. Without the families who lived on her block, she had no close friends, no family, no intimacy or camaraderie. If Oliver told anyone she had fucked him, no matter what context she tried to provide, she would lose everything good in her life. Someone less fragile than her might be able to face that reality for the sake of justice, but Chloe knew her limits. She wouldn't be able to handle that.
Unfurling her hurting body and rolling out of bed, Chloe caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her lips swollen from being bitten by her own teeth in the throes of anxiety, and her hips bruised with overlapping ovals she knew to be the imprints of Oliver's unforgiving fingers. Even her wrists and ankles were marked with the telltale signs of having been restrained throughout the initiation into her new life as an older man's fucktoy. She felt her eyes well up with even more tears at the uncertainty of how her life could change from here.
She didn't even know how she got home last night; the last thing she remembered was her body betraying her by cumming on her captor's cock before she fell asleep in his arms. So much for survival instincts! How could she have let herself fall asleep against the same man who had non-consensually fucked her awake just an hour or so before?!
This realization drowned Chloe in a brand-new wave of discomfort as she walked naked and barefoot into the kitchen to brew some coffee. If she had fallen asleep in her bosses' bed, how had Oliver gotten her back into her own? She hadn't brought her keys with her to babysit considering she hid one in a secret lockbox outside her door that could only be opened by someone who knew the 6-digit code. She'd always thought this was so clever, but it was more out of necessity after forgetting her keys at home more times than she'd like to admit.
Fresh, silent tears finally fell down her face as she remembered that Oliver and his wife were among the neighbors who helped her gain access to her apartment on more than several occasions, all of them chuckling together at how clumsy and scatterbrained she could be. Maybe she wasn't as clever as she thought; Oliver was the one who had suggested she leave a key hidden by her door. She just didn't know how he had learned the code it was locked behind. Her sense of security, both physical and emotional, had been eroded.
Not only did Chloe not know how he'd gotten into her apartment, but how had he managed to transport a leggy young girl down the street after he had quite literally cut up the bottoms she had worn to her babysitting job? She hadn't seen a robe or borrowed pants of any kind around her bed. In fact, she hadn't even seen the tank top she arrived in last night, meaning Oliver had likely taken it off of her in her sleep.
The thought of him repeatedly having access to her naked, sleeping body sent a shiver down her spine, emphasizing her feelings of fear but also... she couldn't ignore the wetness growing between her bare legs as she thought of how much unbridled power Oliver must have had over her with her sleeping, naked form at his mercy. Of course, this only deepened Chloe's shame and humiliation; the man who had filled her so deeply and mindfucked her so thoroughly the night before was influencing her already abraded and sore pussy without even being present. She should be shaking with anger and indignation, but instead, her legs were shaking from use and her pussy was dampening with need. What had he done to her in such a short amount of time? What he be able to do to her with the indefinite amount of time ahead?
The many questions Chloe didn't actually want to know the answers to were suddenly pushed to the back of her mind when her phone chimed from afar, alerting her to a new text message. She looked around her apartment, knowing she'd had her phone at the Clarkes' last night but obviously not knowing where it had landed when she had. She eventually found it in the drawer of her nightstand where she usually kept her vibrators and was momentarily alarmed to find all her many toys missing from their proper place. This particular feeling of alarm was replaced with a new and stronger one when she saw who the text was from: Oliver Clarke.
"Good morning, my little toy. Clean yourself up and be waiting for me by your front door in 30 minutes. Naked. Kneeling. Not a word spoken until I tell you otherwise. Go."
Chloe's heart had begun to race the second she saw his name on her screen, but it had promptly sunk after reading his orders for her. She had no idea what to expect when it came to her newfound servitude, but had hoped that it would be an occasional tryst that she wouldn't have to face yet. But here was her very own phone, lighting up her miserable face, taunting her with her new reality far too soon. She checked the time stamp on the message and saw 5 minutes had already passed, which left her 25 before having to kneel before her fears. She sighed with a hint of a sob and hurried to the bathroom to shower last night off of her just so he could ruin her body for the second time in 12 hours.
~~~
Oliver turned his key in Chloe's door and opened it to find her sitting on her knees in the entryway. Actually, 'sitting' was an exaggeration; her entire torso was resting on her upper thighs with her arms crisscrossed over her chest, hugging herself as she nearly hyperventilated. He watched what seemed to be the beginnings of a panic attack for a few moments before walking towards her and away from the still-open front door. Chloe lived in a street-level apartment which pleased Oliver to no end; the humiliation possibilities were infinite. He would enjoy making her uninstall her blinds and curtains but presently, he kneeled beside her and alerted her to his presence by gently petting her hair. Chloe audibly gasped and moved to sit up straight, but Oliver added some force to his touch and held her down in her folded over position, keeping her where she was and leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"Breathe, pet. I know you're scared. I relish it. But the longer you take to be present in your predicament, the longer those nosy pedestrians outside of your wide-open door have to gawk at the naked little slut on the floor."
Having redirected her anxiety, Oliver released Chloe's head so that it could snap up to confirm that her front door was, indeed, wide open and that pedestrians were, indeed, sneaking glances inside at her clothing-less form. She quickly lurched forward on her hands and knees to shove the door shut before anyone else could witness her subjugation, especially before she even had a chance to make sense of it. She was still deep in crisis-mode with no reprieve in sight that would give her time to process her situation, let alone how to extricate herself from it. All she knew was that she had too much to lose, and, at present, that was all Oliver wanted her to know.
As Chloe scrambled back from the firmly closed door, Oliver caught her hips from his seated position on the floor and pulled her into his lap like a child. She was still curled in on herself, grasping at whatever distance she could get between them even if it was mere millimeters. With Oliver's strong forearm locked around her lightly cushioned waist, his lips found her ear again.
