Hello - FABULOUS idea here!

[simply_a_whore]

Since you were so nice to reply, here's a sample of what's to come!

Tenderly lifting her head, Michael kissed her again,
his tongue sliding against hers in an erotic, yet
somehow soothing manner. Distantly, Tara heard a
metallic click, felt something cool around her neck,
but didn't make the connection until Michael stepped
back with a satisfied look on his face.
"Now you're going to learn how to behave, you little
whore," he said, a malicious grin spreading across his
face.
"What?" Tara looked at him uncomprehending, still
fuddled from the sex. Raising her hand to her neck
she felt cold steel and a padlock and instinctively
she yanked at it, only to find the lock to be quite
secure.
With a wicked grin, Michael held up a silver key and
deposited it in a drawer beside the sink, then scooped
Tara up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack
of potatoes and started down the hall.
Finally beginning to catch on, Tara started to
struggle, squealing in frustration and rage. "Did you
just call me a whore?!" She hollared, her fists
pounding impotently against his muscular back.
"You are one," was his calm reply as he pulled open a
heavy wooden door at the end of the hall, stepped
inside and locked it behind him, hanging the key on a
nail beside the door. Behind the door was a set of
wooden stairs to the basement. Descending down them
confidently, Michael balanced his enraged, struggling
baggage with ease, his strength more than a match for
hers.
Furious and humiliated, Tara increased her struggles,her bare feet kicking uselessly against his muscled
stomach. "How dare you?! Where are we going you
prick!" She screamed, her voice echoing off the
concrete walls as they passed through several basement
rooms, Michael carefully shutting the door to each.
There was no way anyone would be able to hear her, but
Tara screamed anyways.
Behind another carefully locked door was a second set
of stairs, these of carved stone. Lights were set
into recesses in the ceiling. The space was cool and
dry, and the steps swept free of dirt and debris.
"I've prepared this little room for you, slut,"
Michael calmly said over Tara's increasingly loud
screams for help.
Grunting when her foot came perilously close to
nailing his privates, Michael stepped through an iron
door and again shut it behind them, locking it tight
and pocketing the key.
Dropping Tara unceremoniously on the cold stone floor,
Michael stepped over to a table and began sorting
among the items there, ignoring his prisoner as she
scrambled to the door, rattling the bars uselessly as
she screamed for help.
Michael turned around and watched Tara carry on for a
few minutes. "Do you have any idea how far underground
we are?" he asked, looking at her curiously.
Sniffling, Tara turned around and pressed her back
against the door. "No." Her voice was rough and her
makeup was smeared, all in all, she looked pitiful.
"Far enough that no one can hear you. You look
pathetic, go wash that crap off your face, you're not
to wear it ever again unless I tell you otherwise,
understand?"
Wiping her nose on the back of her hand, Tara glared
at her captor. "You can't order me around. I'll go
to the police and you'll go to jail! You'll -" her
voice was cut off as Michael calmly grabbed her by the
hair and dragged her over to a small sink set into the
wall. Turning the cold water on full blast he shoved
her face into the basin. "Now wash."
Sobbing openly, Tara did as she was told, using the
small bar of Dial and a cloth to wash the make up off
her face, revealing freckles and glowing skin. After
washing her face, she defiantly washed the sweat off
her breasts and underarms, then scrubbed at her
dripping crotch before dropping the dirty cloth in thesink.
Watching her with a faintly amused smile, Michael
allowed her to finish washing before pulling her by
the arm to a small wooden bench next to a wooden
support post. Releasing her, he went back over to the
table and selected a wooden paddle, then pointed with
it at the bench. "Bend over it, now."
Shocked, Tara sank to the floor, then scooted away
from him on her backside, shaking her head mutely.
Michael didn't move closer to her, he simply pointed
to the bench again. "Bend over it and place your chin
on the groove. You can take your punishment willingly
or I can force you. Your choice."
"Punishment for what?" Tara whispered, her voice
hoarse and wobbly.
"For being the useless cocktease you've been since I
hired you, you stupid slut. From now on, things are
going to be very different. Now bend over that bench
or I'll bend you over it myself."