“Move,” the Beastmaster growled, shoving them toward a rusted corridor Lily hadn’t seen before. The air grew colder, thicker, the stench of blood and metal overwhelming. Chains clinked in the darkness, and faint screams, human and animal, seeped through the walls. Lily’s heart pounded, her naked body trembling under the collar’s bite. Mia walked beside her, her jaw set, but her hands shook, betraying her fear. The corridor ended at a steel door, its surface scratched and stained. The Beastmaster pushed it open, revealing a cavernous chamber that made Lily’s stomach lurch.
The slaughterhouse was a nightmare of rusted hooks and blood-slicked tiles. A massive bull, its black hide scarred, snorted in a pen at the far end, its horns glinting under flickering fluorescents. A metal table, bolted to the floor, sat in the center, its surface grooved with drains for blood. Chains hung from the ceiling, and a small crowd of clients, their masks grotesque caricatures of animals and demons, lounged in elevated seats like they were at a fucking theater. Mistress Vixen stood by the table, her leather bodysuit splattered with old blood, her whip coiled like a snake. Her smile was pure malice as she beckoned the girls forward. “Welcome to the real show, pets.”
The Beastmaster chained Lily to a pole near the table, her wrists bound high, forcing her to stand on tiptoe. Mia was dragged to the table, but before she could be secured, a third girl was hauled in. She was younger, barely eighteen, with mousy brown hair and wide, terrified eyes. Her name, Lily would learn, was Claire. She screamed, thrashing against the Beastmaster’s grip, but he slammed her onto the table, chaining her wrists and ankles to spread her wide. The clients murmured, their voices thick with anticipation. “Fresh meat,” a woman in a wolf mask purred. “Perfect for the bull.”