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<br/>​</div><span style="font-size: 12px">"Hey. Are you famous or something? You look really familiar to me." Grey eyes couldn't help but look to the driver of the cab. Part of her wanted to tell him to pull over and let her out, while another part of her wanted to sigh in frustration and shout at him, but all she did was move her gaze back out the window. "You're mistaken." Her voice had that tone that said he was better off just leaving it be. No need to go down that rabbit hole because there was no magic mushroom or grinning cat, just a woman who had suffered enough in her life and wanted nothing more than to just put it all behind her. Thankfully, the driver had more than two brain cells rubbing together in that thick skull of his. For the moment he took a peek at her in his rear-view mirror, hear the tone of her voice, he clamped his mouth shut for the rest of the drive. Never even asking if she wanted him to take the scenic route or even if she had a preferred route. Just finding the shortest path from A to B. <br/>
<br/>
Riley James Devareux didn't see a single piece of the city that the cab drove through. Her mind --thanks to the driver-- was seeing a dark room, reeking of dried semen and sweat. A room that held only a pathetic, broken little puppy with a chain around her neck. Somehow the damned thing had never left scars. In fact, her Handler had done his best to keep her skin from being marred in anyway. Sure she had sported a few bruises at times, but he made sure to treat them. Her skin constant being lavished with oils and lotions, treatments to keep her as pretty as possible, for as long as possible. 'Can't have my little puppy looking so mistreated.' Were his words whenever he would treat her body. Too bad he could not have taken such great care with the inside. Perhaps she would be back home, surrounded by her family, laughing with old friends, dolling herself up for a date with Tommy, even thinking of having a future with him. Had he taken care of her, Riley felt she wouldn't be where she was now: Sitting in the back of a cab, wearing a skin-tight dress and heels, on her way to a party to feed the desires her body forced upon her. Desires that she knew Tommy never would be able to satisfy; or any single man for that matter.<br/>
<br/>
"We're here." Riley handed over some money and got out before he could scrounge up her change, figuring he could use the extra bills to buy some new freshener for the cab. It wasn't awful, but it was nowhere near Riley's standards. Knowing just where she was to go, Riley didn't bother stopping off at the front desk or asking for directions. This was not the first party she had been to, nor would it ever be the last. These were the only places that she could give in, let her body take what it needed, calm the rage that was inside of her. At least, that was what she called it. A rage that had been born from her Handler. Some days it would crash down around her, demanding she find a place to relieve herself, to work at her pussy till every ounce of it passed between her lips and down her fingers. Even when she was at work, she would have to take lunch early or come up with some reason to be gone for a time. If anyone ever followed her, they would find her down in her car, hand between her legs, the other covering her mouth so she would not draw too much attention. No name ever left her lips, no words were ever moaned, it was just muffled screaming as she came over and over again. And once she was done, she would recollect herself and continue on with her day as though nothing ever happened. Taking on that 'ice bitch' persona that she had heard whispered behind her back. If only they all knew why she was this way...<br/>
<br/>
Reaching the door, Riley gave the necessary knocks, the door opening at once to reveal a doorman appropriately dressed for such a station. Liking what he saw, the doorman ushered her into the penthouse that had been rented out for tonight's festivities. All about were people in various attire, or lack thereof to be more exact. Riley had a feeling she was going to be one of the few single people there that evening. C'est la vie. She didn't come to these things to find a new boyfriend or husband, she was here for one selfish reason; feed the rage inside of her.<br/>
<br/>
Making her way about the party, grey eyes looked over everyone there. Seeking out those that would be capable of using her in just the right way that she could leave satisfied. Or as satisfied as was possible. Eventually the young woman found herself standing over by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of rose wine in her hand. For some reason no one had approached her. Was her demeanor too much? Was her 'ice bitch' facade on so tightly, that it was impossible for her to relax? Riley had no idea, but she hoped that this night would not be a total waste. Though it was not like she had work the next day or anything, but no one wanted to go home on a Friday night and not have had even the slightest bit of fun. After another ten minutes, she would make her way to one of the three bedrooms, find a place and start masturbating. Usually that sort of thing had the men sniffing at her, fighting over who would get a shot at her first. No matter who went first, they all would be fucking her in the end. Sometimes even two or three at a time. It didn't matter to her, as her Handler always said: She was there for their pleasure, to be used. And no matter how many tears she cried, it would not change a thing.</span>