I wrapped the blue rope around her bruised and beaten body. My balls were empty, but my lust wasn't.

  "You are one of the hottest sluts I've ever raped," I said as I grabbed her breasts and kissed them, causing her to whimper and cry. "You should be grateful I'm giving you an orgasm," I continued.

  "P-please...no more..." she pleaded.

  I pulled her hair back and bit her lip. "You aren't done until I say you are."

  She didn't respond, and I let go of her. She collapsed on the floor, defeated, used. I walked over to the desk and picked up a bottle of wine. I opened it, poured a glass, and drank it down. I felt my cock hardening again. I was getting aroused by the smell of her fear and pain. It was a new sensation, and one that I relished. I had become a monster, and I loved it.

  "God, I love this job," I said aloud as I turned to face Hillary's battered body.

  She looked up at me with her tear-filled eyes, her mouth open, panting for air.

  "Do you want some wine?" I asked her.

  She shook her head no, so I walked over to her, and poured the entire glass over her head, drenching her hair, face, and tits. She cried out, and tried to roll away from me, but the rope kept her in place.

  "Please," she whispered, "I just want to go home..."

  I stomped my foot down onto her face, silencing her.

  "Shut the fuck up, you dumb whore," I said. "The only thing I'm gonna let you do is cum."

  I tossed the empty wine glass at her head, and she cried out.

  "Now shut the fuck up and walk to the kitchen, bitch," I said as I cut the ropes binding her, and helped her to her feet.

  She stumbled forward, her legs weak from the rough sex.

  "You try running away again," I warned her, "And I'll rape you even harder. Understand?"

  She nodded, and shuffled to the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood and wine behind her.

  It was 10pm at the office. I'd spent the last three hours raping and torturing Hillary. Her pussy and ass were both bleeding from the brutal abuse. Her wrists were swollen and bruised, and her nipples were purple and raw from my teeth. Her neck was bruised from where I had choked her repeatedly. And her face was battered and swollen from where I'd slapped and punched her. My balls were still heavy with cum, and I was nowhere near done with her.

  I sat at the desk and poured another glass of wine. I lit a cigar and leaned back in the chair, sipping my wine, watching the night sky outside the window. The city lights were beautiful and this was a beautiful moment to be alive. The office was completely silent, except for Hillary's sobbing from the kitchen. It was perfect, everybody had already left for the Friday evening. And nobody would return until Monday morning.

  Hillary was alone, and completely at my mercy. There's not a single person that could hear her cries. Not a soul that could save her from this fate. She was trapped here with me until I was finished. And I was in no hurry. I planned on taking my time, and making her suffer for every moment she'd been a cunt to me. I was in charge now.

  "Please," she sobbed. "No more... please..." The quiet voice was coming from the kitchen.

  I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Hillary was on the floor, bound and helpless. She was curled up in a ball, naked and bloody. Her arms and legs were tied behind her back, and a rope was tightly wound around her neck.

  "Please...please don't hurt me anymore," she begged.

  I knelt down beside her, and ran my hand across her bruised cheek. She flinched, and tried to pull away.

  "Shhhh, it's ok," I said softly. "It's almost over."

  "No," she cried. "I just want to go home...just please stop..."

  I stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine.

  "Don't worry, I will stop," I said. "After you drink this."

  I held the bottle to her lips, and tipped it. She sputtered and choked as the red wine flooded her throat. It ran down her cheeks and pooled on the floor beneath her head. When I was satisfied that she had swallowed enough, I pulled the bottle away.

  "You're such a pretty girl," I said as I looked at her. "I've always wanted to fuck you like this."

  "Please, I'm begging you," she pleaded. "You've hurt me, and degraded me. And you've done everything you could to make me suffer. What more do you want from me?"

  I laughed. "What more do I want from you? Well, let's see." I paused for a moment, as if considering her question. "How about...for you to admit you're a worthless little bitch that deserves to be raped and tortured by a real man?"

  She shook her head and started crying. "You can't break me," she sobbed. "You can't. You can rape me and torture me all you want, but you'll never break me."

  "We'll see," I said. I grabbed the rope around her neck and pulled her head up. "Drink," I commanded, putting the wine bottle back to her lips.

  She coughed and sputtered, but managed to swallow a few more gulps before I released the rope. She fell back to the floor, and gasped for air.

  "You're a terrible cocksucker," I said. "You really should practice."

  "Please," she sobbed. "No more."

  I pulled the knife out of my pocket and knelt beside her. She whimpered as I traced the tip of the blade along her soft skin. I gently caressed her body with the cold steel, teasing her. She shivered and closed her eyes.

  "One wrong move," I whispered, "And I'll gut you like a fish."

  "P-please," she begged. "Don't."

  "Then you better start behaving yourself," I replied. "You're nothing but a piece of meat. And I can use you however I want. If I decide to fuck your tight little pussy, then you better get it wet and ready for me."

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  "If I want to fuck your pretty face," I continued, "Then you better suck it. If I want to stick my cock in your ass, then you better get on your hands and knees and take it."

  "No," she cried. "No!"

  "Yes," I said, smiling. "I own you now. And I'll fuck you whenever and however I want. So get the fuck up, and climb on top of me."

  "No! Please," she screamed. "Don't rape me again. Please, just let me go home."

  "You don't get to leave until I'm finished with you," I replied. "And right now, I'm not finished."

  I stood up, and reached down to grab her hair. She screamed as I pulled her to her feet. She was crying and shaking, but she didn't resist. I sat down in a chair, and unzipped my pants. My hard cock sprang free.

  "You're gonna ride me until I cum. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," she sobbed. "Please. Just don't hurt me."

  "Then climb on my cock," I said.

  She reluctantly moved towards me. I watched as her naked body slowly approached me. She was beautiful and broken. I was in control, and there was nothing she could do about it. She stood in front of me, her body trembling.

  "If you want this to end," I said, "Then you better make me cum. Now put my cock inside you and ride it. Ride it like the little whore you are."

  "Y-yes sir," she whimpered, and slowly lowered herself onto my throbbing erection.

  Her pussy was still slick with blood and cum, and she was easily able to slide down the length of my shaft. She moaned softly as she took it all the way to the base.

  "Good girl," I said. "Now ride it. Make me cum."

  She slowly began moving her hips, grinding against me. I could feel her muscles tightening around my cock as she worked herself up. Her face was contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she fucked me. She was moaning and whimpering as she rode my cock.

  "You're so fucking tight," I grunted, grabbing her hips and pulling her down harder. "How does it feel, bitch? How does it feel to raped like this?"

  For the rest of the night, she was my plaything. My personal little fuckdoll. I used her in every way imaginable. And by the time the sun came up next morning, she was barely conscious. Her body was a mess, covered in blood and cum and wine. She was barely able to speak, but she was alive. She was still breathing, and that's what mattered. I untied her and left her lying there, naked and broken. She was probably too broken to even walk, so I knew there was no way she could tell anyone about what happened until somebody would find her bruised and broken body Monday morning.

  I walked out of the office and took a taxi home. My weekend was going to be perfect. I would sleep, relax, and recover from the previous night's activities. And then, Monday morning, I would go back to work and be a good employee again...