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not going to use a condom," he continued. "Ordinarily, I would. But I want to feel your wetness on my cock tonight. I want you to smell like you've been fucked when you walk out of that door in the morning. I want to see my semen running down your legs."
    Jo stared at him. She couldn't understand why this man, who was admittedly painfully good-looking and well spoken and affluent, would go to such lengths to do something like this. From the looks of things he could have any woman he wanted, any time. It made no sense at all. Another thing that was making no sense was her body's reaction to his words.
    "Why are you doing this?" she asked, shifting her position on the couch.
    He said nothing, just gazed at her.
    "I'll go to the police," she told him, trying another tack. That was a big fat lie. She knew several of the police officers in the city, and had no reason to trust them. Especially since they had wanted to press charges against her for assault after that stupid video.
    "I wouldn't recommend that," he said calmly. "There are several witnesses who will testify that we dined together tonight, and that you came up to my apartment willingly. Very willingly. I have the means to buy the best lawyers, most of the police in this city, and the occasional judge. You would fail. Spectacularly."
    She said nothing. It was hard to refute that.
    "I should tell you now what I am going to do, but I expect that you have a reasonable idea of my intentions. Apart from one thing I feel I should mention. I will make you climax, over and over, whether you want to or not. I have a certain skill in that area which you will learn to appreciate, one way or another."
    "What is the time?" Jo asked then, trying to ignore everything that smooth, cultured voice had just said, and the rising excitement in the lower half of her body.
    "Nine thirty pm," he said as he stood. "I would offer you a drink, but I want you to be fully conscious of everything I am about to do to you."
    "Wait," she said, holding her hand up, palm outwards toward him. She needed to think this through.
    Jo eyed him from her position on the bean couch. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and he appeared to be in excellent shape. Expensive gym, probably. His mouth curved in a sardonic half smile as he watched her register his size.
    He's big, she thought. Too big for me to be able to stop him from doing what he's going to do. I could get a few lucky blows in, but none that would really hurt, none that could do any actual damage.
    He's really very good-looking. Black eyebrows and eyelashes that framed those clear grey eyes. Thick black hair. Slightly beaked nose. Generous mouth. In any other scenario she would be only too eager to screw this man. But in this one he had removed her choice, made her a helpless victim.
    She tilted her head to one side, and considered him as she wondered how to eradicate that helpless feeling. It was one that she was unfamiliar with, and she didn't like it at all. Her incisive mind had earned her one of the top spots in her company, and she used it now to deconstruct and analyse this rather unique situation.
    The helplessness originated from the absence of choice. Had she chosen, she would very much have enjoyed the activities that this man promised. This may not have been every woman's fantasy, but it could easily have been designed specifically for her. And then she saw the solution to this dilemma.
    She would choose. She would choose to participate in this, instead of having it inflicted on her. She would hurt him if she could, and she would fight him off as best she could, because that was part of the game she was designing in her mind, but she would enjoy fucking this man.
    She grinned at him, and lowered her hand.
    "Bring it on, dickhead," she said flatly.
     

Chapter 2
    Jo had walked out of that automated door at 08h15 the following morning. Fifteen minutes and a whole night too late. Her legs had been unsteady, and her body had ached, and, yes, she