House Party:Consort is corrected.

Slave Kaos has been riding high as slave consort. She’s spent weeks breaking in new girls and cracking the whip on the rest, but now the Pope and the Steward have her on their radar. They’ve noticed how loose her grip has gotten, and it’s time the gold collar around her neck started feeling heavier. They flip her. One moment she’s upright, the next her lean, tanned body is strung up in a tight inverted suspension. The ropes bite and she spins slowly, hair brushing the floor. The Pope lays stripes across the backs of her thighs, each stroke a clean reminder of every sloppy order she’s let slide. The Steward matches the pace on the other side, cane biting into creamy skin until the sting turns into a scream she can’t swallow. When they cut her down, slave tramp is already on her knees, tongue sliding between the consort’s swollen lips, licking a wet apology up and down while the Pope watches. Kaos shudders, thighs trembling, but the moment is short. They move her to the lounge. There, slave tramp gets her turn to sing. Clamps pepper her tits and belly; she stands in the middle of the room, hitting high notes as the clamps dance with every shake. Nerine works two fingers into her until the song turns into a raw, dripping orgasm that leaves the clamps shining. Later, electrical leads snake around Siouxsie Q’s nipples and cunt, forcing sharp yelps between clenched teeth. Across the room Kaos is bent over the arm of a leather couch; hands and fists take turns stretching her open while the rest of the party watches. By the time a new girl is led in, the air is thick with sweat and ozone, and the night is only just beginning.