StripSearch

This is part two of my series. The first one I posted was in the main story area, and not in the AI area. I could not figure out how to delete that one, so I reposted with an additional chapter in the AI story side. So I apologize for the confusion. If you are reading this and it feels you missed something, you may have, and you should go back and read the small 2nd chapter in CUNT HUNT in the AI story side.


CUNT HUNT part 2

It felt like a trendy massage spa. Even the air seemed conditioned to carry the soft fragrance of relaxation. The reception desk was sleek, and the receptionist herself had a glossy, manicured quality. Her eyes moved over Chloe, lingering on the work clothes and hurried breath.

"You missed your slot," she said, her voice crisp as the corners of her perfect lips. "It was clearly stated to arrive 15 minutes early, and no refunds."

Chloe's heart sank. "Please," she said, almost gasping. "I’ve been stuck in traffic for over an hour. There must be something you can do." She leaned forward, desperate. "I’ll do anything, I can’t afford another grading, I can barely afford this one."

The receptionist regarded Chloe’s scrub-clad figure with professional detachment, tapping her flawless nails on the desk.
"One moment," she said, leaving Cloe alone at the counter as she went to the back room.

Left alone at the counter, Chloe glanced around the reception area. Her stomach twisted when she noticed what she'd overlooked in her panic: display windows lining the far wall.

In the first window, a woman was locked in a pillory, her body bent at the waist. Her face pointed toward the street outside, while her naked ass and exposed pussy were positioned for everyone in the store to see. Chloe's breath caught as she took in the brands on the woman's right buttock, two distinct marks, one of them canceled out by a crude X burned across it. A digital price display mounted beside the pillory flickered with information: "Choice Plus Slave. 2 owners. 3 years left on contract. Take home tonight: $11,000."

Chloe's mouth went dry. Eleven thousand dollars. More than four months of her salary.

Her gaze shifted to the next display. This one contained a blonde woman confined in a cage so small she could only stand upright. A collar encircled her neck, attached to a short chain fixed to the top of the enclosure. The digital sign identified her as "Prime"—a classification above Chloe's own Prime Minus status. The woman's eyes were vacant, staring at nothing.

Near the counter, partially hidden behind a display of branded aftercare products, sat what looked like a large dog kennel. Inside was a third dark-haired woman, curled on her side, her eyes wide, looking up at Cloe. Her sign was simpler than the others: "Ask about our slave rental plans."

Chloe's hands began to shake. This could be her future if her rating dropped. If she missed another payment. If she couldn't maintain her Prime Minus status. The rent increase suddenly seemed trivial compared to this.

The receptionist and an older gentleman in a lab coat and scrubs returned. They didn’t say anything to Cloe but looked at the computer at the desk.

The receptionist was the first to finally speak. "She's Prime Minus," the receptionist replied. "Looks desperate but genuine."

He looked up at her, then back at the computer. "And why are you here to be regraded?" the man asked abruptly, turning his attention to Chloe. His eyes were cold, analytical, like he was evaluating livestock.

Chloe cleared her throat, "My student loans. The terms require periodic verification of Prime status to maintain my current interest rate."

"Interesting," he said, tapping his chin. "Looking at you from your Department of Agriculture profile, I'd have expected at least a Prime, maybe even Prime Plus. Records show a nice, tight, and wet pussy. Not sure how you only rated a Prime Minus the first time around. Stand up straight, please."

Chloe straightened her posture, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed. A flutter of hope rose in Chloe's chest. A higher rating would mean lower interest rates, maybe even enough savings to cover her rent increase.

He stepped out from behind the counter, circled her once, his gaze lingering on her hips, her breasts, her face, before moving back to the computer. He continued his assessment, eyes narrowing. "Hard to tell now with those baggy clothes, and dark circles under your eyes." His lips curled slightly. "Time seems like it hasn’t been good to you since your last grading. The stress of those loans takes its toll on the body."
"Based on what I can see now, I'm looking at a Choice at best." He stopped in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. "But if you still want to do this, we can try. The mall closes at 8, and we're forbidden from conducting any grading past that time."

Chloe's stomach dropped. Choice grade? That would double her interest rate overnight. She'd lose everything. "That can't be right," she protested, her voice rising. "I'm still young, fit…please." She hated the desperation in her voice. "I need to maintain at least Prime Minus."

"We won't know until we grade you properly," he cut her off with a dismissive wave. "But if you still want to do this, we can try to fit you in. The mall closes at 8, though, and we're strictly forbidden from conducting any grading past that time. If that's the case, you'll be kenneled overnight, and we can finish the grading in the morning."

"Kenneled?" Chloe's eyes darted to the dog crate behind the counter.

"You have to know this. It's been a standard procedure for years." The technician's expression remained neutral. "Once you check in, you're property until the process is complete. You will be stripped, cleaned, kenneled, and fed kibble as all potential slaves are." He checked his watch. "If that's a problem, you'll have to reschedule."

Chloe's throat tightened. Of course, she knew. Everyone knew. But knowing something in the abstract was different from facing it as an imminent reality. She had remained out of the cages in her first grading.

"I..." she swallowed hard, her gaze drifting back to the woman in the display window. The vacant eyes. The brand marks. "I don't have a choice."

"Everyone has choices," the man said with a thin smile. "Some are just more pleasant than others." Then he turned and went to the back again.

"Fine," Chloe said through gritted teeth. "Let's do it."

The receptionist slid a tablet across the counter. "Have a seat and sign the consent forms, please."

Cloe took the tablet and moved slowly to the small waiting area beside the slave in the pillory window display. With a quick glance, she thought it looked like the slave’s pussy was leaking, but how could it be, she thought as she sat down, her back to the display.
Chloe's finger trembled as she scrawled her signature across the screen. Each swipe felt like another piece of her dignity being signed away. She took a few minutes to barely read what she was signing, only focusing on the temporary custody for the purpose of grading parts to ensure she would not end up on an auction block somewhere, before returning the tablet to the receptionist and sitting back down.

The receptionist resumed her work, dismissing Chloe with the tilt of her head.

The large TV screen broadcast a Slave Network channel on the opposite wall was broadcasting vivid images flashing in rapid succession. The ad commanded attention, its graphic intensity a visual assault in the subdued space.

“COMING THIS SUMMER,” announced the breathy voiceover, words exploding onto the screen in bold, lurid colors. “TEN MILLION DOLLARS. ONE HUNDRED AND ONE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN. ONE UNFORGIVING HUNT.”

Chloe leaned forward, her eyes locked on the screen.

The commercial cut to a montage: stunning women sprinting through varied landscapes, their faces a mix of determination and fear. Aerial shots showed vast terrains, wild and sprawling. Woods, deserts, urban wastelands. All of them looked impossible to escape.
“YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS,” the voiceover continued, pulsing with excitement. “THE FIRST EVER CUNT HUNT!”

Chloe watched, transfixed despite herself. She knew these shows, how they seduced contestants with promises of wealth only to strip them of their freedom and dignity. All these slave game shows were the same. Just a ploy to get more women in a collar.
Her eyes widened as the trailer ended, and she couldn’t ignore the dark thrill that shot through her. Ten million dollars. The thought was intoxicating. But no. The odds of winning were slim to none. These contests were designed for failure. For capture. Chloe pushed the thought aside, though it lingered, unwelcome and tempting.

The thought crept into her head that the odds were 1 in 101. That seemed achievable. She couldn't shake the thought of ten million dollars, couldn't stop picturing what she could do with that kind of money. Pay off her loans instantly. Buy a real apartment, not that closet she currently rents. Maybe even—

The front door swung open, the soft electronic chime interrupting her fantasy. Two men in expensive suits walked in, their polished shoes clicking against the tile floor.

"We're here to pick up Aubrey," the taller one said, leaning against the counter. "Is she done with her grading yet?"

The receptionist looked up from her screen. "She'll be a few more minutes, gentlemen. We're just finishing the elasticity tests. You’re welcome to go back to the observation area.”

The men mostly ignored what she said and took seats across from Chloe, their eyes briefly scanning her scrubs before dismissing her entirely. They spoke to each other in hushed tones about "asset acquisition" and "investment potential."

A door behind the reception desk opened, and a heavyset woman with a shaved head emerged. Her uniform was crisp and stretched tight across her broad shoulders. Her eyes found Chloe immediately.

"Winters?" she called out, her voice surprisingly high-pitched for her imposing frame.

Chloe stood, smoothing down her wrinkled scrubs. "That's me."

"Follow me."

Chloe's heart hammered; her legs felt unsteady beneath her as she walked past the waiting men, who barely spared her a glance.

The woman led her down a short hallway with four closed doors. Each step felt like moving deeper into a trap, but what choice did she have?

"In here," the woman said, stopping at an open door marked "Preparation Room 3." She pushed Chloe in, following behind her.
"Strip," the woman commanded, closing the door behind them. "Everything off. Then stand in the far corner over there where the shower head is."

Cloe stood frozen for a moment.

"Now," the woman barked. "Or do you need assistance?" She reached for something on her belt, a small black device that Chloe recognized as a cattle prod.

With trembling hands, Chloe began removing her clothes. First her shoes, then her scrub top. The air was cool against her skin, raising goosebumps across her exposed flesh. She unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor, then pushed down her scrub pants and underwear in one motion, stepping out of them quickly and moving to the corner of the room.

The wrangler stepped forward, a metal collar in hand. Chloe instinctively backed up until she hit the cold tile wall. "Stay still," the woman commanded, reaching for Chloe's neck.

The collar was heavier than it looked, a band of brushed steel with a small blinking light that pressed against her throat. The wrangler fastened it with a distinct click that resonated in Chloe's bones. It felt like a sentence. "This is a temporary slave collar," the wrangler explained, stepping back to examine her work. "Next time I tell you to do something, do it immediately. Hesitation gets you shocked." She held up a small remote. "And trust me, you don't want to feel what this can do."

Chloe's fingers tentatively touched the cold metal encircling her neck. Her throat constricted with panic, making it hard to swallow.

"Now over there," the wrangler ordered, pointing to a low padded bar positioned against the far wall of the shower area. "That's the slave cleaning station."

Chloe's stomach clenched. There was a low bar to the side of the shower area. The bar was covered in some kind of waterproof cushioning material, adjustable in height with plastic-coated cables visible underneath. Her legs felt wooden as she walked toward it.

"Rest your hips against the bench and lean forward," the wrangler instructed, her voice flat with routine. "Arms extended, grab the handles on the other side."

Chloe hesitated, and a sharp jolt of electricity surged through her collar, making her neck muscles spasm and her teeth clack together painfully.

"I said move," the wrangler repeated, finger hovering over the remote.

Chloe stumbled forward, legs shaking, as she positioned herself over the bar. The padding pressed against her lower abdomen as she leaned forward, exposing her backside completely. The wrangler secured her wrists with quick-release straps, then did the same thing to her legs. The restraints weren't painful, but they left no room for resistance. Next, the wrangler clipped her collar to a plastic-coated cable extending from the wall, effectively tethering her in place.

Behind her, Chloe heard the snap of latex. The sound echoed in the tiled room, sending a fresh wave of dread through her body. She couldn't see what the wrangler was doing, but the sound sent a shiver of dread down her spine. "Standard procedure," the wrangler said, her voice clinically detached. "Everyone gets cleaned inside and out."

Cloe felt like she was going to vomit; she had forgotten about the cleaning. It had been so many years since the last grading, but how could she have forgotten? A cold, slick finger suddenly probed between Chloe's buttocks. She flinched, instinctively trying to pull away, but the bar held her in place.

"Stay still," the wrangler warned. "This will be easier if you don't fight it." The lubricated finger circled her anus briefly before withdrawing. Seconds later, something harder and colder replaced it, the nozzle of an enema tube. Chloe bit her lip to keep from crying out as the wrangler slowly pushed it inside her. "Taking a deep breath helps," the wrangler advised, sounding almost bored.

Chloe felt a strange pressure as something inside the nozzle inflated, securing it in place. She couldn't push it out now, even if she tried.
"Standard slave prep," the wrangler explained, moving to a control panel on the wall. "This is an automated enema machine," she explained clinically. "The plug has a ball inside you that will inflate to prevent it from accidentally coming out. Then this machine will fill you with two liters of purified water with a mild antiseptic. Then, after three minutes, the plug will expand, stretching your tight little slave asshole, allowing you to expel the fluid before shrinking back. This process will continue until the sensors in the plug get to the predetermined fecal saturation percentage from the expelled fluid."

The first rush of water flowing into her bowels made Chloe gasp. It wasn't painful initially, just strange and invasive. But as the water continued to flow, the discomfort built rapidly.

"Oh god," she wailed, her stomach beginning to cramp.

"Breathe through it," the wrangler instructed. "We're only at one liter."

The cramping intensified, radiating across Chloe's abdomen. Her belly began to distend slightly, the pressure building inside her with nowhere to go. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she struggled to breathe evenly.

"Please," she gasped, the cramping becoming more intense. "I can't—"

The stream of water inside her transformed into agony as her body protested the fullness. Tears spilled down Chloe's cheeks, hot against her flushed skin. Every muscle in her abdomen clenched around the invading liquid that had nowhere to go.

"Almost done," the wrangler said, her voice distant through Chloe's haze of pain.

When the water finally stopped, Chloe hung her head, gasping. Her distended belly ached with pressure, the skin stretched taut. Just when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, she felt the plug inside her begin to expand, stretching her anus wider. "Push now," the wrangler commanded, her voice echoing against the tile.

Chloe bore down, feeling the humiliating release as a torrent of liquid waste poured from her body. The warm effluence splashed onto the tile floor behind her. Her face burned with shame, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she emptied herself under the wrangler's clinical gaze.

"Good girl," the wrangler said, as if praising a pet. "Get it all out."

Before she could even process what was happening, the plug constricted again, sealing her shut. The machine hummed back to life, and fresh water began flowing into her still-sensitive bowels.

"No, please," she gasped, the new influx of liquid filling her tender insides. "I need a minute."

"The system determines the timing, not you," the wrangler replied flatly. "Two more cycles at minimum, I’ve seen some really dirty slaves take five cycles to get fully clean."

The second filling was worse than the first. Chloe's muscles, already exhausted, protested the new invasion. The cramping intensified, radiating up her spine and down her thighs. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, determined not to scream.

"You're doing better than most first-timers," the wrangler commented, checking something on a nearby monitor. "Heart rate elevated but within normal parameters."

Chloe wanted to scream that there was nothing normal about this, but another cramp seized her, stealing her breath. She hung her head, watching her own tears drip onto the floor beneath her. She closed her eyes, trying to detach herself from what was happening. This humiliation was temporary, she reminded herself. Just get through it. Maintain Prime Minus status. Pay the loans. Survive.
The plug expanded again, stretching her raw tissues. Chloe pushed without being told this time, desperate for relief from the building pressure. The release came in another humiliating rush.

"Good, one more cycle should do it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” the wrangler laughed as she left the room.

When the final cycle was completed, the wrangler had still not returned. The plug was still keeping her open, and she could feel a coolness inside her as she waited. Chloe's thoughts drifted to the Cunt Hunt advertisement. Ten million dollars. Freedom from debt. Freedom from this degradation.

The wrangler returned a few minutes later, leading the dark-haired woman Chloe had seen earlier in the lobby. The slave was still naked except for a permanent collar around her neck, her eyes downcast. She turned to the slave. "Unhook her and clean her thoroughly. Especially between her legs. She reeks."

The wrangler moved to the wall and turned a valve while Cloe was released from the bar, then the slave led her under the shower head and hooked her collar to a cable hanging down. The water began to spray from the showerhead above Chloe, so cold it stole her breath.

"Fuck!" Chloe gasped, instinctively stepping away from the freezing spray.

The wrangler's hand moved to her belt. "That's strike one. Get back under the water." Handing the slave a scrub brush and a bottle of antiseptic soap. " I'll be back in fifteen minutes."


The frigid water made Chloe's muscles contract painfully. Her nipples hardened into tight buds, and goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. The slave started with Chloe's back, scrubbing methodically, then moved to her arms and legs. When she reached Chloe's breasts, her movements slowed, becoming almost gentle.

"I'm Chloe," she whispered, teeth chattering from the cold. "I'm just here for regrading. I'm not actually—"

The slave didn’t say anything, just gave Cloe a look and gave her head a twist and a nod to the corner of the room.
Chloe glanced up at a camera in the corner of the ceiling she hadn't noticed before. Her cheeks burned despite the cold water.

"Spread your legs wider," the slave instructed.

Chloe reluctantly complied, her legs trembling from both cold and humiliation as the slave woman crouched before her. The brush scraped against her inner thighs, making her wince. Chloe’s breath hitched, her thighs quivering as the coarse bristles of the brush dragged across the tender flesh of her inner thighs, scraping like sandpaper against her delicate skin. She shivered, but icy cold water dripping down her legs wasn’t the reason. The slave woman knelt before her, her hands rough but purposeful as she scrubbed Chloe’s pussy. And yet, despite the sting of the bristles, the invasive closeness of the woman’s hands, the way her fingers brushed against Chloe’s swollen labia, was enough to make her pussy throb with a sickening mix of shame and arousal.

The brush paused, pressing harder against her mound, and Chloe whimpered, her cunt clenching involuntarily as the woman’s breath ghosted over her wet slit. “Hold still,” the slave woman growled, her voice low and commanding, and Chloe’s knees buckled as the brush dragged down her slit, spreading her lips open with a crude, clinical precision. The cold water trickled over her exposed clit, making her gasp, but it was the woman’s fingers, now sliding into the slick folds of her pussy, that made her moan.

“Fuck,” Chloe whispered, her head falling back as the woman’s fingers probed deeper, spreading her open, the brush forgotten as the slave’s rough hands took over. The humiliation burned hotter than the sting of the bristles, but her body didn’t care; her hips jerked forward, her cunt clenching around the woman’s fingers.

“You're a filthy little slave whore,” the woman hissed, her other hand gripping Chloe’s hip to hold her still as she worked her fingers deeper, twisting them inside her. “You like this, don’t you?”

Chloe couldn’t answer, her mouth opening in a silent cry as the woman’s thumb found her clit, rubbing it with a cruel pressure that made her legs shake. The cold water pooled around her feet, but her pussy was burning, dripping with a slickness that had nothing to do with the bath and everything to do with the way the woman’s hands were ravaging her. She hated herself for the way her body responded, but she couldn’t stop the way her hips rolled forward, fucking herself on the woman’s fingers with a desperation that made her want to scream.
“That’s it,” the woman growled, her fingers curling inside Chloe’s cunt, hitting that spot that made her see stars. “Show me what a dirty little slave you really are.”

Chloe’s orgasm hit her like a fucking train, her cunt spasming around the woman’s fingers as she came hard, her thighs trembling, her pussy gushing. The shame was overwhelming, but it only made her cum harder, her body betraying her in the most fucking humiliating way possible. The woman didn’t stop until Chloe was a trembling mess, her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the cold, wet floor, her cunt still pulsing, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The door opened with a click, and the wrangler strode back in carrying a stack of fluffy white towels. Steam rose from them in the cool room as she set them on a nearby bench.

“Clean enough,” she barked, turning off the water with a sharp twist of the valve. "Dry her," the wrangler commanded, thrusting the warm towels toward the slave. As the slave began patting her down. The heated towels felt like heaven against her chilled skin, and she couldn't help but lean into the gentle pressure.

"MMMMM," Chloe sighed quietly, savoring the blessed heat against her frozen skin, but not quietly enough.

The wrangler shot her a warning look but said nothing, busying herself with something on a nearby counter.

As the slave worked her way down Chloe's body with the warm towel, Chloe became aware of something she hadn't noticed before: the room itself was surprisingly warm. The heating vents above pumped out hot air, creating an almost sauna-like atmosphere that helped chase away the chill from her bones.

"Turn," the slave instructed quietly, and Chloe complied, allowing the woman to dry her back.
Despite the warmth now enveloping her body, Chloe's nipples remained stubbornly erect, pointing outward, announcing her body's true feelings. She crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed.

The wrangler noticed immediately. "Arms at your sides. You don't get to hide anything here."

Chloe dropped her arms, face burning. The slave continued drying her, moving down to her legs with mechanical efficiency.

"Interesting," the wrangler commented, eyes fixed on Chloe's breasts. "Cold water's been off for five minutes, room's at eighty degrees, and those nipples are still standing at attention. Body's more honest than your mouth, I'd say. Might be a higher grade than the tech thought."

Chloe felt a surge of hope mixed with humiliation. If her body's involuntary responses helped maintain her Prime Minus status, maybe this degradation would be worth it.

"Step out of the shower area," the wrangler instructed. "Feet on the drain mat."

Chloe complied, moving to stand on the rubber mat a few feet away. The slave followed, continuing to pat her dry with the heated towel.

"Spread your legs," the wrangler ordered, pulling on latex gloves with a snap that made Chloe flinch. "Need to check if you're clean enough for the next step."

Chloe hesitated, earning a sharp look from the wrangler. She slowly widened her stance, feeling exposed and vulnerable as the woman approached.

"Wider."

She adjusted her feet further apart, staring at a spot on the wall above the wrangler's head, trying to dissociate from what was happening. The latex-covered fingers probed between her cheeks, a finger slipping into her rectum. She pulled it out and showed a clean latex finger to Cloe. “Clean as a whistle.” Turning to the slave woman, she gestured toward Chloe's tangled hair. "Brush that mess back and put it in a ponytail. Make her presentable."

The slave moved behind Chloe, picking up a brush from a nearby counter. Her touch was surprisingly gentle as she worked through the wet tangles, careful not to pull too hard when she hit a knot. The rhythmic strokes of the brush against her scalp felt almost soothing after everything else Chloe had endured.

"Tighter," the wrangler instructed as the slave gathered Chloe's hair. "No sloppy presentation."

The wrangler moved to a computer terminal mounted on the wall, her thick fingers tapping rapidly across the keyboard. The screen glowed with forms and checklists Chloe couldn't quite make out from where she stood.

The slave's fingers worked quickly, securing Chloe's damp hair into a neat, high ponytail that pulled at her scalp just enough to be uncomfortable without being painful. The slight tension made Chloe's eyes water, giving her face a vulnerable look that she suspected was intentional.

After several minutes of data entry, the wrangler turned back to face her, a hint of something almost like approval in her otherwise clinical expression. "I've entered your stats and reactions to the enema and cleaning procedures," she said. "Your body responded quite well to the stimulation. Better than average elasticity in both orifices, excellent muscle tone, and your skin cleared up nicely after the scrub." She nodded toward the computer. "The system has updated your preliminary grade based on these findings."

A small flutter of hope bloomed in Chloe's chest. Her body had betrayed her with its responses, but maybe that betrayal would work in her favor. "What's the preliminary grade?" she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.

The wrangler's lips twitched. "That's not for you to know yet. But I will say you shouldn't be disappointed." She checked her watch. "Now we need to move to the next phase. We're running out of time."

"Thank you," Chloe murmured, unsure if speaking was allowed but unable to contain her relief.

The wrangler raised an eyebrow. "Don't thank me yet. This is just the beginning of your assessment."

The wrangler attached magnetic writs and ankle cuffs to Cleo’s extremities, then pressed buttons on her tablet to sync them. "Follow me," the wrangler commanded, unclipping a leash from her belt. She attached it to the D-ring on Chloe's collar with a sharp click that echoed in the small room. She then put a lead to the other slave's collar and clipped it to Chloe’s, making a mini slave coffle. "Keep your head up, shoulders back. You walk three steps behind me at all times."

The metal links of the chain leash felt cold against Chloe's skin as it draped down between her breasts. The wrangler gave it a sharp tug, and Chloe stumbled forward, catching herself before she could fall. "Three steps," the wrangler repeated, turning and walking toward the door.

Chloe stumbled forward on unsteady legs, her bare feet slapping against the cold tile as the wrangler led her through a door and into a brightly lit corridor. Each step intensified her awareness of her nakedness, her damp ponytail dripping cold water down her spine.
The wrangler led her down a short hallway, past several closed doors that Chloe couldn't help but wonder about. Grunting and slapping flesh could be heard behind one of them. What was happening in that room? Who else was being processed, evaluated, and graded like livestock?

Pushing through another door, they suddenly found themselves in the main lobby and display area of the store. They moved to the left of the reception desk, behind a false wall, into the auction block area. The raised auction block was in the center of the room, surrounded by plush chairs, and TV screens lining the walls. The slave network show “Confessions of a Slave Therapist” was playing silently on the screens.

The wrangler pressed a button on her tablet, and the block lit up with spotlights. Then another button was pressed, and a long, thin steel cable lowered from the ceiling. She pulled Cloe to the blocks and hooked the cable to her collar before unhooking the two leads that were attached. Then with a hard swat to her ass. “Up you dumb cunt!”

Cloe wasted no time stepping up to the top of the blocks, the lights blinding her. She felt the cable tighten as it lifted back into the ceiling.

"Come on, you. Back to your kennel." She led the woman away, leaving Chloe standing alone on the auction block, the spotlight burning against her skin, her collar seemed to tighten around her throat.

The door to the reception area swung open moments later. The two men in expensive suits that Chloe had seen earlier sauntered in, followed by the wrangler who had apparently intercepted them in the lobby.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for agreeing to watch this slave's yoga assessment," the wrangler said, gesturing toward Chloe as if she were merely an object on display. " I always feel that a slave performs better for an audience and this one needs all the help and support she can git as she is facing a possible downgrade."

The shorter man smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "Sounds entertaining. Better than sitting in that lobby waiting for his cousin to get done,” he said, nodding toward his friend.

His companion loosened his tie as he took the adjacent seat. "Is this the same slut that was in the lobby earlier?” He asked. See, you never know what a hot shower and a change of clothes can do for you.” They both laughed, and the comment even earned a snicker from the wrangler. “What kind of grade do you think this one will get?”

The wrangler looked at the tablet. "Initial grading of slave 4798 was about 7 years ago, at age 18, and received Prime Minus," the wrangler replied, tapping something on her tablet. "But the yoga poses will tell us more about flexibility and compliance, looks like she has tried to stay fit,” the wrangler reached over and pinched Cloe's side, pulling at her flesh, “but looks can be deceiving, and she might have let herself go a little."

The taller man's eyes raked over Chloe's naked form. "Prime Minus? Looks more like a Choice to me. Look at those tan lines, clearly doesn't take care of herself properly."

Chloe's face burned with humiliation as they discussed her like she was a car at a dealership. The spotlight made it impossible for her to hide anything, not her goosebumps, not her erect nipples, not the way her thighs trembled slightly from the stress of standing perfectly still.

Cloe felt the tension in the cable loosen, and the wrangler unhooked it, "Present."

This was an easy one, she thought, and she quickly dropped to her knees, sat back on her feet, put her hands behind her head, and looked forward.

“Spread your knees wider, chin up, tits out.”

Cloe was quick to respond to all of the wrangler’s commands.

"Looks like this one needs training," the shorter man observed with a smirk. "Fresh meat, I take it?"

“Anal present.”

Cloe turned around, placing her head on the floor, her knees wide with her hands on her ass, pulling her cheeks apart.

"Not bad," the shorter man commented. "Decent muscle tone in the calves, but the ass could use some work. Too flat for my taste."

"Spread your legs wider," the wrangler instructed, tapping Chloe's inner thigh with a riding crop. "And push that ass higher, you should be offering your master that ass, and they should be able to fuck you with no shifting your legs and body around."

"Crab position," the wrangler ordered.

Chloe quickly flipped onto her back, planted her palms and feet on the floor, and pushed her body upward into a reverse table. Her arms and legs strained with the effort of supporting her weight, her naked body fully displayed, breasts pointing upward, the curve of her stomach and pelvis creating a bridge. The position naturally forced her knees apart, showing off her dripping pussy.

This was the second run through of the poses when the auction room door swung open, and Chloe's concentration nearly broke. She twisted her neck to see who had entered, nearly losing her balance. A woman in a silk blouse and pencil skirt walked in, followed closely by the man in the lab coat Chloe recognized from the waiting area earlier. The woman's hair was disheveled, and there was a distinct white smear at the corner of her mouth.

"Sorry, we're late," the man in a lab coat called out, guiding the woman toward the seating area. "Aubrey wanted to show her,” he paused and smiled at the woman, “appreciation for the higher grading."

The shorter man laughed, rising to greet his cousin. "I can see that," he said, pointing to the corner of the woman's mouth. "You missed a spot, sweetheart."

Aubrey's eyes remained downcast as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, removing the last trace of cum from her face. The taller man gave her ass a proprietary slap before she took a seat beside her cousin.

"So, what did we miss?" the new guy asked, gesturing toward Chloe's straining form on the block.

"Just some basic poses," the wrangler replied. "This one's trying to maintain her Prime Minus status. Not sure she's going to make it."
Chloe's arms shook violently as she struggled to maintain her position, sweat beading on her forehead and dripping into her eyes. The wrangler hadn't given her permission to relax, so she remained in the crab walk, her back arched painfully, her body exposed.

"Table position," the wrangler commanded, mercifully releasing Chloe from the crab pose.

Chloe sighed with relief as she turned around and got on her hands and toes, her arms trembling from exhaustion. The cool surface of the auction block pressed against her palms as she tried to steady her breathing. Her muscles burned, sweat dripping down her forehead and between her breasts.

The wrangler’s tablet chimed, "Gentlemen, Ms. Aubrey, I believe we're finished for today. The bill is ready if you'd like to settle up now, or you're welcome to stay and watch the remainder of this assessment. However, I must inform you that we close in ten minutes."

Chloe's heart dropped like a stone. Ten minutes? There was no way they could complete the grading in that time. She would be forced to stay overnight. Kenneled. Like an animal.

"No," she whispered, the word escaping before she could stop it.

The wrangler's head snapped toward her. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

The men were rising from their seats, stretching casually as if they hadn't just watched a woman being humiliated for their entertainment.
"Thanks for letting us observe," the taller one said, guiding Aubrey toward the door with a possessive hand on the small of her back. "Good luck with this one."

After the door closed behind them, the lab coat man stepped to the auction block, circling Chloe as she maintained the table position. Her arms trembled with the effort of holding herself up.

The lab technician consulted with the wrangler in low tones. "What's been completed so far?"

"We've finished the cleaning protocols and just completed the slave yoga assessment," the wrangler replied, scrolling through something on her tablet. "Just need to check her excitement levels, then she can be fed and kenneled for the night."

"Good." He snapped on a pair of latex gloves with practiced efficiency. "Let's complete the yoga assessment now."

The man put his left hand on her left butt cheek, ok slave, I want you to do your best to keep my fingers out of your cunt understood?”

Cloe nodded her head.

SMACK

“I asked you a question, do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” she cried out.

He pressed two fingers between her labia and ran them back and forth between her lips, getting his gloved fingers nice and wet. Then, without warning, the technician's gloved fingers pressed against her entrance, two digits sliding inside her with clinical precision. Chloe gasped, her inner walls clenching instinctively around the intrusion.

She grunted when she bore down, then he pulled them out and tried a third finger in her pussy, offering more resistance this time.

“Excellent!” he pulled out his fingers and then moved to her head, wiping his fingers off with her hair.

"You can release the position," he said, his voice clinical as he approached the platform.

Chloe's arms gave out immediately, falling onto the platform with a soft thud.

"Slave’s tight. Good muscle control." He reached down, groping one of her breasts. “Nice tits, how's her anal elasticity?"

The wrangler stepped closer, looking down at Chloe's flushed face. "Elastic. Took the nozzle without complaint after the initial resistance."
He moved his hand to her face, squeezing her cheeks, “Stick out your tongue.”

Cloe complied, looking down her body as she did, trying to avoid eye contact.

He let go and turned toward the wrangler, pulling off his gloves as he did, "Slightly above average wetness," long tongue great for cunnilingus.

Cloe just closed her eyes to far gone to be embarrassed by his words.

"Did she orgasm at all during cleaning or yoga?" he asked,

"Not during the enema, though she was responsive," the wrangler replied. "The slave who bathed her reported unusual arousal. I suspect there was some activity there.”

"That's promising," the technician nodded. "We'll need to conduct the full arousal assessment in the morning. Her preliminary scores are ok, I would think for a prime minus they would be higher though. She might maintain her Prime Minus status if she performs well tomorrow."

Place your hands behind your back. As Cloe did so, the strong magnets in the cuffs pulled her wrists together, locking them behind her. She pulled at them, unable to free herself.

Cloe was lost in her thoughts as the leash was clipped to her collar and she was being led back into the main lobby and waiting room.
The wrangler led Chloe back through the reception area, her bare feet cold against the polished floor. The store had emptied of customers. She fastened Cloe’s leash to a small hook by the reception desk and started to get the dark-haired slave out of the cage by the desk.
The main entrance doors were being locked by the lab technician, who slid the heavy security bolt into place with a definitive clank. As he turned the key in the lock, Chloe watched her last chance at freedom disappear.

Chloe's legs trembled with fatigue as she watched the receptionist gather her belongings, tucking a tablet into an expensive-looking handbag.

The wrangler hooked the slave from the cage by the desk, to the back of Cloe’s collar. "Don't move," the wrangler commanded before slapping the slave’s ass and moving toward the display windows.

Chloe stood perfectly still, feeling the slight tug on her collar whenever the slave shifted her weight.

The wrangler returned moments later with another naked woman in tow. Her dark eyes briefly met Chloe's before dropping submissively to the floor. It was the blonde from the standing cage. The wrangler clipped her leash to the first slave's collar, creating a chain of three women. "One more," the wrangler muttered, disappearing again.

The lab tech and the receptionist were working on a computer. Cloe assumed they were doing some closing paperwork. Chloe's legs ached from standing, her muscles still trembling from the exertion of the yoga poses. One of the slaves behind her coughed softly, and Chloe felt a sudden urge to turn around, to say something, but the weight of the shock collar kept her facing forward, silent and compliant.
Minutes later, the wrangler returned with the last slave who had been displayed in the pillory window, her body marked with those telling brands. Like the other slaves, she kept her eyes downcast, her shoulders slumped in practiced submission. The wrangler clipped her leash to the collar of the last slave, completing their small coffle line.

"Ready?" the lab tech asked, checking his watch.

"All right, let's move," the wrangler ordered, giving Chloe's leash a sharp tug.

The lab technician and receptionist joined them, both carrying tablets. The receptionist had changed from her heels into comfortable flats, her professional demeanor slightly relaxed now that the store was closed.

"The overnight forms are all submitted," the receptionist told the lab tech. "We'll complete her assessment first thing tomorrow."

They led the slave coffle down a long corridor, past the rooms where Chloe had been cleaned and assessed. At the end of the hall stood a heavy metal door marked "STAFF ONLY." The lab tech punched a code into the keypad beside it, and the door swung open with a hydraulic hiss.

CUNT HUNT 2 B


The smell hit Chloe first, a mixture of industrial cleaner, sweat, and something unmistakably animal. They stepped into what appeared to be a massive warehouse space, at least three times the size of the retail portion of The Corral. The ceiling soared high above them, crisscrossed with metal beams and fluorescent lights. To their left, a large garage door dominated one wall, clearly designed for truck deliveries.

Chloe's eyes were drawn to the right wall. What spread before her wasn't just a back room but an enormous warehouse space that seemed to stretch for half a city block. Metal cages lined one wall in various sizes, small kennels barely big enough for a crouching adult, double-occupancy cages with shared water bottles, and larger transport cages on wheels. A massive standing-only display cage dominated the center of the room, its bars gleaming under the fluorescent light.

"Jesus," Chloe whispered, unable to stop herself.

The wrangler yanked her leash. "No talking."

Along the far wall stood what looked like a prison cell, large enough to hold at least ten people, with thin sleeping mats scattered across the concrete floor. Outside it, a long metal trough extended from the wall, a feeding station, Chloe realized with dawning horror, designed with holes large enough for a human head but not the rest of the body. Next to it ran a second, lower trough, this one clearly meant for waste elimination, the drain holes visible even from where she stood.

"Move," the wrangler commanded, tugging on Chloe's leash and leading the coffle of women across the concrete floor toward the waste trough.

The wrangler unhooked the leash from Chloe's collar and pointed to the waste trough.

"Release time," the wrangler announced, unclipping each woman's leash from her collar. "Do your business now. This is your only chance before morning."

Chloe stood frozen, staring at the long metal trough with water running through it. The other slaves moved without hesitation, squatting over it with practiced efficiency. Chloe turned her head away, her cheeks burning with humiliation as the unmistakable sound of urine hitting the running water filled the room.

"You too, Prime Minus," the wrangler snapped, giving Chloe a shove toward the trough. "You’ll have to clean all the cages if you end up pissing yourself in your cage tonight?"

Chloe's shoulders slumped in defeat. She moved to an empty spot along the trough, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall ahead as she squatted down. She closed her eyes, willing her muscles to relax despite the audience. After a moment's resistance, her body gave in to the pressure, relief washing over her as her bladder emptied. As she relieved herself, a sickening, familiar odor suddenly hit Chloe's nostrils as she remained squatted over the trough. She heard a soft grunt from behind her, followed by a distinct plop sound. Chloe wrinkled her nose involuntarily as the scent grew stronger, her stomach turning slightly.

Chloe was weirdly grateful for the thorough enema she'd endured. At least she wouldn't have to endure this particular humiliation. The other slaves followed suit, their bodies performing their natural functions with the mechanical efficiency of those long accustomed to public elimination. The running water beneath them suddenly stopped. Chloe started to rise, thinking they were finished, when suddenly jets of cold water sprayed upward from hidden nozzles along the trough. She gasped as the frigid stream hit directly between her legs and another jet targeted her anus with precision. The unexpected sensation made her jerk forward, but the wrangler's hand on her shoulder forced her to remain in position.

"Stay still," the wrangler ordered. "The bidet cycle needs to be completed."

Chloe's teeth chattered as the cold water sprayed relentlessly against her most intimate parts. The other slaves remained motionless, clearly familiar with the routine. The water pressure increased momentarily, the jets becoming almost painful against her sensitive flesh before abruptly shutting off. Chloe rose on shaky legs, water dripping down her thighs. No towels were offered; they were expected to air dry.

"Line up," the wrangler barked, and the slaves formed a neat row beside the trough, Chloe awkwardly trying to mimic their stance.
A heavy door at the far end of the warehouse swung open with a metallic groan. The Chloe shifter her gaze over the wrangler's shoulder. A heavyset man in a security uniform entered through the back door, his keys jangling at his belt. His gaze immediately locked onto the row of naked women, a slow smile spreading across his fleshy face.

"You still here, Marsha?" he called to the wrangler, his voice booming in the cavernous space. "Thought you'd be gone by now."

"Got a late one," the wrangler replied, nodding toward Chloe. "Prime Minus regrading. Couldn't finish before closing."

His eyes swept over their naked bodies, lingering on Chloe with a gaze that felt like fingers crawling across her skin. "Evening, ladies," he called out, his tongue darting across his lower lip as he spoke, voice echoing in the cavernous space. Chloe fought the urge to cover herself as his stare settled on her breasts.

"Feeding time sluts," she announced, motioning for the slaves to follow her to the jail cell in the corner. She opened the door, and the slaves all moved in, followed by Cloe.

"Kneel and place your head through an opening," she instructed. "Hands behind your back."

The other slaves dropped to their knees immediately, inserting their heads through the openings with practiced ease. Chloe hesitated and watched before earning a small zap from her collar.

“AHHHH FUCK!” she screamed.

"Now!"

Chloe knelt and pushed her head through the opening. her hands still locked behind her back. The metal collar around her neck scraped against the frame as she positioned herself. She could only look down into the stainless steel of the trough and wait.

"All done for the night," the receptionist announced, collecting her designer bag. "I've got to get going. My husband's waiting."
The lab technician nodded, scrolling through his phone. "I'm heading out too. Everything's logged in the system for tomorrow's assessment."

Chloe remained on her knees, head through the feeding hole, watching the polished shoes of the receptionist and lab tech as they walked toward the exit. The heavy door clanged shut behind them, leaving just the wrangler and the night guard.
The wrangler watched them leave, her jaw tightening. She glanced at her watch and sighed heavily.

"Fucking great," she muttered, stomping over to a small kitchenette area in the corner of the warehouse. "Late again."

The wrangler sighed heavily, her thick fingers massaging her temple. "Fine. Let me just get the protein paste heated up." She stomped toward a small kitchenette in the corner, yanking open a refrigerator door with unnecessary force.
The night guard chuckled, leaning against the wall as he watched her. "Hot date tonight?"

"Fuck," the wrangler muttered, checking her watch. "I was supposed to be out of here fifteen minutes ago." She slammed the container into the microwave, punching buttons with aggravated jabs. The machine hummed to life as she leaned against the counter, checking her watch repeatedly.

The night guard's heavy footsteps approached, and his boots came into Chloe's limited field of vision. "Why don't you just head out, Marsha? I can handle the feeding. Not like I haven't done it before."

The wrangler hesitated, looking back at the kneeling women. "You sure?"

He pushed himself away from the wall, ambling toward her. "Go on then. I can handle these cunts."

"God, thank you." The wrangler grabbed her jacket from a hook. "Just make sure you add some of the slave kibble to the protein paste. Gives it texture. Each one gets two scoops, no more."

"Two scoops, got it," he repeated, already reaching for the cabinet.

"And don't forget to log everything," she added, already halfway out of the door, her jacket in her hand. "Management's been on my ass about documentation. Just leave me an email, and I will put it in the system."

The door clanged shut behind her, the electronic lock engaging with a soft beep. Chloe's stomach twisted as she realized she was now alone with the guard and three other slaves, her head trapped in a feeding trough.

The microwave dinged. Through the narrow opening, Chloe could see the guard's boots approaching.
"Dinner time, ladies," he announced, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "Hope you're hungry."

Chloe felt her heart hammering in her chest. Without the wrangler present, something in the atmosphere had shifted. The guard's footsteps grew louder as he approached the trough. Chloe's neck ached from the awkward position, her knees already sore against the hard concrete. The guard ladled the warm protein paste in front of each woman. The thick, off-white substance smelled vaguely like overcooked oatmeal with a chemical undertone. Chloe's stomach growled despite her revulsion.

"Eat up, ladies," the guard said, his voice lower now that they were alone. "Got to keep your strength up."
The other slaves began eating immediately, lapping at the paste like animals. Chloe hesitated, her pride rebelling at the thought of eating like a dog. A sharp zap from her collar quickly changed her mind, making her yelp in pain.

"The collars are motion-activated at feeding time," the guard explained, sounding amused. "If you don't eat within thirty seconds of food placement, you get a little reminder."

Reluctantly, Chloe lowered her face to the bowl and began to eat. The paste was bland and gritty, with occasional chunks of what she hoped was the kibble the wrangler had mentioned. She choked it down, trying not to think about what she was doing.
The guard moved away, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. Through her limited field of vision, Chloe saw him approach a refrigerator in the corner. He returned with four clear plastic bottles filled with water that had a subtle pink tint to it, Chloe's appearing slightly darker than the others. They weren't ordinary bottles but resembled those used in animal cages, except instead of a metal ball-bearing spout, each was fitted with a thick flesh-colored rubber phallus.

"Thirsty work, being a slave," he chuckled, hanging a bottle in front of each woman. "Drink up," he commanded, tapping her bottle with his finger. "Every drop, or you get the zap."

Chloe watched as the other slaves immediately closed their lips around the rubber phalluses, sucking rhythmically to extract the water. The dark-haired woman who'd bathed her earlier tilted her head slightly, working the shaft with practiced efficiency. The water flowed only when they sucked it as if they were sucking a guy properly, the system designed for maximum humiliation. With her mouth dry and throat raw from the protein paste, Chloe had little choice. She leaned forward, wrapping her lips around the thick rubber cock. The cool sensation against her tongue was startling, but as she sucked, tentatively bobbing her head as she did, trying to pull the water out. She was rewarded with a spurt of sweet water that filled her mouth. It wasn't just water; there was a fruity undertone, almost like diluted strawberry syrup, unexpectedly pleasant.

She pulled back, swallowed, and returned to the disgusting paste, taking another mouthful. The sweet water had transformed the bland gruel, making it almost palatable. She alternated - a mouthful of paste, then back to the rubber phallus, establishing a rhythm like the other slaves.

After a few minutes, a strange warmth began spreading through Chloe's body. It started in her core and radiated outward, a pleasant tingling sensation that made her skin hypersensitive. Her nipples tightened, hardening into stiff peaks that ached with unexpected arousal. Between her legs, an insistent throbbing began. Her pussy clenched around nothing, suddenly and inexplicably wet. She shifted her weight, trying to ease the growing pressure, but the movement only intensified the sensation. Her thighs trembled slightly as heat pooled in her core.

"What the hell?" she whispered against the rubber cock, pulling back slightly.

"Feeling good?" The guard's voice startled her. He'd moved silently to stand directly behind the feeding trough. "The pink stuff always kicks in quick."

Pink stuff? Chloe's mind raced as she realized what was happening. The water wasn't just tinted for aesthetics—it was drugged. The darker pink in her bottle meant a stronger dose than what the others had received.

"I always give the first-timers a double dose," the guard continued, his voice closer now. "Makes the transition easier. Helps you understand what you're really meant for."

Chloe wanted to pull away from the feeding hole, to protest, but another wave of arousal crashed through her body. Her clit throbbed painfully, demanding attention she couldn't give it with her hands locked behind her back. A whimper escaped her throat as her hips instinctively rocked forward, seeking friction against nothing but air.

"That's it," the guard murmured, his hand suddenly on her head, making her jump. "Let it happen. You'll be begging for it soon enough."
The heat in Chloe's body intensified. Her pussy throbbed with unwanted arousal, wetness gathering between her thighs.
The world dissolved into a hazy blur around Chloe. Her mouth worked mechanically on the rubber phallus, drawing out the last drops of the drugged water. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, impossible to gather. The sweet liquid slid down her throat, intensifying the fire already raging through her veins.

Beside her, the other slaves were making sounds she barely recognized as human. Low, desperate moans that seemed to echo her own building need. The blonde to her right whimpered, her body trembling visibly. The dark-haired woman on her left was panting, a thin string of drool connecting her mouth to the now-empty bottle. The guard's boots appeared in Chloe's limited field of vision. He crouched down, his face level with hers, that predatory grin spreading across his fleshy features.

"Time for some fun," he said, reaching behind her head. There was a magnetic click, and suddenly her wrists were free. The cuffs remained, but no longer pulled together.

"Back up, all of you," the guard commanded, unlocking the feeding trough.

Chloe withdrew her head, her neck aching from the awkward position. She fell backward onto her ass. Her skin felt electric, every nerve ending screaming for touch. Between her legs, her pussy throbbed with a need so intense it was almost painful.

“Get those mats," he ordered, pointing to a stack of thin foam pads against the wall. "Bring them to the center."

Chloe struggled to her feet, her legs wobbly beneath her. Every movement felt like she was swimming through warm honey. She stumbled toward the mats alongside the other women, grabbing two with unsteady hands.

"In a circle," the guard instructed, making a rotating gesture with his finger. "Head to pussy, pussy to head. You know the drill, ladies."
The other slaves immediately began arranging the mats in the center of the concrete floor. Chloe watched through her drug-addled haze as they positioned themselves in a circle, each woman's head between another's thighs. "You too, Prime Minus," the guard barked, giving her ass a sharp slap that sent a shock of unwanted pleasure straight to her core.

Chloe dropped to her knees on an empty mat, her body responding to commands her mind was too foggy to desire. The blonde slave positioned herself so that her face was inches from Chloe's dripping pussy, while Chloe found herself staring directly at the dark-haired slave who had bathed her exposed sex.

"Eat," the guard commanded, and the circle of women obeyed.

The blonde's tongue touched Chloe's swollen pussy lips, and her rational mind shattered instantly. The drug had already heightened every nerve ending, but the warm, wet contact of the slave's tongue sent her into a frenzy. Chloe's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the blonde's face as pleasure coursed through her veins, and an orgasm overtook her.

"Oh fuck," Chloe gasped, as the orgasm slowly eroded her own face, hovering inches from the dark-haired woman's glistening pussy. The scent was intoxicating, musky, sweet, overwhelming. Without conscious decision, she lowered her mouth and dragged her tongue along the slave's slit, tasting the salt-sweet tang that coated her lips. The drug had demolished her inhibitions; she lapped hungrily at the slave's cunt, exploring every fold with her tongue as if she'd done this a thousand times before.

The woman beneath her moaned against Chloe's cunt, sending vibrations that made her thighs tremble. Chloe lapped greedily, her tongue exploring every fold, every ridge, as if she'd been starving for this her entire life.

"That's it," the guard's voice came from somewhere distant, unimportant. "Show me what greedy little cunts you all are."

Chloe barely heard him. She buried her face deeper between the dark-haired woman's thighs, her tongue flicking rapidly against her swollen clit. The slave tasted like heaven, like sex and need and desperation. Chloe sucked the sensitive bud between her lips, feeling it pulse against her tongue. Meanwhile, the blonde between her legs was working magic with her mouth. She sucked Chloe's clit between her lips, applying just the right pressure to make Chloe's entire body shudder. Her tongue flicked rapidly over the sensitive bud before sliding lower to dip inside Chloe's entrance.

Chloe moaned against the dark-haired slave's pussy as the blonde pushed her tongue deep inside her. The vibration of her voice made the woman above her shiver and grind down harder. Chloe matched the blonde's rhythm, licking deep into the dark-haired slave before returning to circle her clit.

The blonde suddenly bit down on Chloe's clit, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough pressure to send a jolt of pain-pleasure straight through her core. Chloe's entire body convulsed, her back arching as an explosive orgasm tore through her. She screamed into the dark-haired slave's pussy, her face pressed deep between those trembling thighs.

The dark-haired woman let out a strangled cry. Her thighs clamped around Chloe's head like a vise, trembling violently as she found her own release. The woman's wetness flooded Chloe's tongue, her body bucking wildly as she rode out her own climax. Chloe could barely breathe, her face pressed tight against the woman's pulsing cunt as she rode out her orgasm.

Through the fog of her climax, Chloe became vaguely aware of the guard's voice. He'd moved away from the circle of writhing women, his phone pressed to his ear, his words drifting in and out of her consciousness.

"Did you see the video I sent?" A pause. "Yeah, she just got here today... Prime Minus, they say..." His voice dropped lower, then rose again. "Hurry up and get here... back door's unlocked... no, don't bring rubbers, I want to feel that tight pussy..."

Chloe tried to focus, but the blonde's tongue hadn't stopped; it continued lapping gently at her oversensitive clit, sending aftershocks through her trembling body.

" Hurry up and get here... the doors are unlocked... no, you don’t need any rubbers.”

Chloe buried her face back between the dark-haired slave's thighs, desperate to distract herself from the overwhelming sensations between her legs. Her tongue lapped frantically at the woman's soaked folds, tasting the salty-sweet evidence of her previous orgasm.

The distant sound of a door opening barely registered in Chloe's mind. Heavy footsteps, multiple sets, echoed in the cavernous space.
"Holy shit, you weren't kidding," a new male voice said, low and appreciative.

The blonde's fingers joined her mouth now, two digits sliding deep into Chloe's dripping pussy while her tongue continued its assault on her clit. Chloe's third orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiated outward from her core. She screamed again, the sound muffled against the dark-haired slave's flesh.

Rough hands suddenly gripped Chloe's hips, pulling her away from her new friends. The blonde's mouth separated from her pussy, leaving her feeling strangely alone. The dark-haired woman's thighs released their grip on her head, and Chloe found herself being manhandled onto her knees, her back pressed against the bars of the cell, and her hands were raised above her head and secured with a loud clink.