“Move,” he growled, yanking their leashes. Lily stumbled, her bare feet raw, as they were pulled through a dim corridor, the air thick with musk and decay. Mia’s green eyes flickered with rage, her arm still bleeding from the wolf’s bite, but her steps were steady, refusing to break. The corridor opened to a small, sterile room, its walls lined with cameras and lights, a metal table at its center. A single client sat in a plush chair, his skull mask glinting, his tailored suit pristine. Mistress Vixen stood beside him, her leather bodysuit tight, her smile venomous. “Our special guest,” she purred, nodding to the client. “He’s paid for a custom film. Lily’s the star.”
Lily’s heart sank, her body trembling as the Beastmaster chained her to the table, her wrists and ankles spread wide. The client leaned forward, his voice thick. “Snuff. Her with a rabid dog. I want it messy.” Vixen’s laugh was sharp, her whip uncoiling. “And extras,” she added, her eyes flicking to the client. “Bukkake finish. She swallows the beast’s load.” The client nodded, his mask hiding his grin, but his arousal strained his trousers. Mia was chained to a pole nearby, forced to watch, her glare burning. “You’re fucking monsters,” she spat, earning a whip crack across her thighs. “Silence, cunt,” Vixen hissed, her gaze never leaving Lily.
The Beastmaster left, returning with a single dog—a wiry, rabid mutt with matted black fur and foaming jaws. Its eyes were wild, its teeth bared, its body quivering with feral hunger. The cameras hummed, their red lights blinking, capturing every angle for the client’s dark web film. Vixen smeared a slick paste across Lily’s exposed flesh, her fingers lingering with cruel intent. “This’ll drive it wild,” she taunted, stepping back as the Beastmaster released the dog’s chain. Lily’s scream echoed, her body straining against the chains, but the table held her fast.