The iron door slammed open, and the Beastmaster’s boots shook the floor. He yanked Lily’s leash, dragging her from the cage, her raw feet scraping concrete. Mia followed, her red hair matted, her green eyes dull but defiant, blood crusted on her arm from the boar’s assault. The corridor was alive, clients’ laughter echoing, their masks a grotesque parade—boars, skulls, serpents, wolves. The air reeked of musk, wine, and anticipation as the Beastmaster shoved them into the central arena, now transformed. The dirt floor was ringed with spotlights, a massive cage at its heart, packed with beasts: dogs, stallions, a bear, and now goats, their horns glinting, their bleats sharp and frantic.
Mistress Vixen stood on a raised platform, her leather corset blood-splattered, her whip coiled like a lover’s arm. Her smile was a predator’s, her voice a siren call over the clients’ cheers. “Welcome to The Kennel’s gala,” she purred, her eyes sweeping the masked crowd. “Tonight, every pet performs. Every beast feasts.” The clients roared, their hands clutching cash, tablets, or each other, their arousal a palpable fog. Lily and Mia were chained to the cage’s bars, their wrists bound high, their naked bodies exposed. Lily’s heart pounded, her bruises throbbing under the lights, while Mia’s glare burned, her defiance a spark in the chaos.
The cage opened, and the Beastmaster unleashed the beasts, a writhing mass of fur, hooves, and teeth. Dogs snarled, stallions reared, the bear roared, and goats charged, their horns lowered, their arousal evident in stiff, twitching lengths. The clients bid, their voices a frenzy. “Twenty million for the redhead with the bear,” a skull-masked man shouted. “Thirty for the brunette with the goats,” a serpent-masked woman countered. Vixen raised a hand, silencing them. “No bids tonight,” she said, her smile wicked. “All pets, all beasts. A free-for-all.”