Ask him to help you escape.
From Create Your Own Story
"Okay, fine." As you expel the last bit of semen from your violated mouth, you turn around to glare at him angrily. "But you have to help me get out of here."
"That wasn't part of the deal." He smirked as if he had just outsmarted you, which you suppose he had. The nerve of this guy! Now you really want to punch him.
"Look, if you don't help me..." You hesitate for a moment, then an idea suddenly strike you. "If you don't help me escape, I will find out who your girlfriend is and tell her what you did."
"You're lying." Even though he attempt to call your bluff, you can tell by the change in his facial expression that your comment got to him. "There's no way you can find out who my girlfriend is."
"Why don't you try me then, STANTON?" You prodded him further, and then quickly caught a glimpse of his name tag. "BILLY Stanton."
Oh how the tables have turned! You watch with some sense of vengeful satisfaction as his complexion becomes a pale ghostly white at the mention of his full name.
"You know how easy it is to go online and find out everything there is to know about someone, right?" You boldly took a step towards him, causing him to stumble back unexpectedly. "All you need is a full name. It becomes even easier when you know where the person WORKS."
"Okay, okay, fine. I'll help you escape." Apparently not expecting you to become so aggressive, he stuttered into agreement. Looks like there was SOME positive element to being forced to blow this guy after all, even if it still was really disgusting. But at least now you can blackmail him into helping you rather than trying to escape on your own and risking a far more terrible outcome.
"Okay, here's what we'll do." He reluctantly spoke. "I will pretend to take you in, and when we get to the lobby near the main entrance, you make a run for the exit."
"Deal. But you need to turn off your radio." Not trusting him entirely, you responded. "No contact with anyone."
He flipped the OFF switch and begin to walk out You twist your shoulder furiously and smash your elbow into his outstretched arm before pushing forward. You could hear a "pszzzz!" as the fabric of your top half tears in his clutch. You keep running without looking back, leaving the man and his colleague behind with a handful of your torn outerwear. Once outside, you dash across the parking lot, weaving between parked cars to throw off your pursuers. As you reach the opposite side of the lot next to the main road, you stop to catch your breath and glance back. The guards are nowhere in sight. They probably didn't want to be seen chasing a young woman with a ripped garment. You took a moment to inspect the damage to your "dress to impress" outfit. The top fabric has been torn off, exposing your bare, silky shoulders and smooth cleavage. You throw your arms across your breasts in an attempt to cover up the exposure. There's no way you can take the bus home in this condition. You reached into your pockets for your cellphone, but it was nowhere to be found. Uh oh, it must have fallen out while you were trying to get away from the guards. How will you get home now? Try to hitchhike. Try to hail a taxicab.
