The stranger seems amused by your comment about the dildo. "Oh, that's just one of my toys," she says with a laugh. "You'll get used to it." She rummages through her bag and produces a length of rope before returning her attention to you. "Now, where should I tie you first?"

She paces around the bed, examining your body like a piece of meat. "I think I'll start with your wrists,"

The stranger wraps the rope around your wrists several times before tying it off securely. "There," she says with a satisfied smile. "Now you're all tied up nice and tight." She pulls on the ropes to make sure they hold, enjoying the feel of power as you writhe helplessly beneath her.

Next, she binds your ankles together before moving higher up your body, securing your arms to the bedposts.

The man's fingers curl inside of you, finding your G-spot and rubbing it roughly. He growls when he feels you starting to tighten around them. "That's it," he says hoarsely, thrusting harder as he feels the pleasure building within you. His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as his hips slam into you mercilessly.

"You like that?" he asks, grinning wolfishly. "

The man stops thrusting and pulls his fingers out of you, watching with satisfaction as they come away coated in your juices. He then grabs your head roughly again, forcing his cock back into your mouth. "Suck on that," he growls. "Taste yourself."

His hips begin to move once more, thrusting harder and faster than before, taking advantage of the way you're pinned beneath him. He leans down, pressing his lips against your ear. "You belong to me now, darling,"

You're loaded into another car, this one even sleeker than the first. The driver takes you to what appears to be an upscale brothel, where he hands you over to another man who looks like the boss. "This one's got some mileage on her already," he says with a grin, "but she should still fetch a good price."

You feel numb with despair as you realize that there is no escape for you now.

The two men exchange a knowing look, then turn their attention back to you. The driver smirks, giving you a once-over before turning on his heel and leaving. The other man, presumably the manager or owner, walks closer, eyeing you appraisingly.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" he says, reaching out to stroke your cheek. His hand feels rough against your skin, but you welcome the touch after so much time alone. "What do you say we get you cleaned up and put on display?