The iron door clanged, and the Beastmaster’s boots thudded closer. He yanked Lily’s leash, dragging her from the cage, her knees scraping the concrete. Mia was next, her red hair tangled, her green eyes burning with a mix of rage and exhaustion. The Beastmaster shoved them down a new corridor, its walls slick with mildew, the air thick with a musky, animal scent. Chains rattled in the distance, and a client’s laugh, sharp and cruel, cut through the silence. Lily’s stomach churned, her naked body trembling as they reached a heavy wooden door carved with claw marks.
The Beastmaster pushed it open, revealing a sunken pit, its dirt floor stained dark with old blood. The pit was surrounded by tiered seats, filled with clients in grotesque masks—boars, wolves, skulls—their eyes glinting with lust. Spotlights bathed the pit in harsh light, illuminating a massive bear, its brown fur matted, its claws like daggers. It paced in a chained circle, its roars shaking the air, its arousal evident in the thick, throbbing length between its legs. Mistress Vixen stood at the pit’s edge, her leather bodysuit gleaming, her whip coiled in one hand. Her smile was a blade, sharp and hungry. “Welcome to the bear pit, pets,” she purred, her voice carrying over the clients’ murmurs.
A new girl was dragged in, her wrists bound, her body shaking. She was eighteen, with short blonde hair and wide blue eyes, her skin unmarked but pale with terror. “Meet Sarah,” Vixen announced, shoving the girl toward the pit’s edge. “Tonight’s star.” Sarah screamed, her voice raw, as the Beastmaster unchained her and forced her down a ramp into the pit. The clients cheered, their masks bobbing, some already bidding for custom acts. “Ten million for the bear alone,” a man in a boar mask called. “Fifteen if she fights,” said a woman in a serpent mask. The bids climbed, settling at twenty million for a “public ravaging” with the bear, followed by a client gangbang.