Slave Initiation: piggy Part 1

Lily’s already had a year of this hell and still wants more. She begged to come back, to crawl through it all over again before she earns the right to call herself a TUF slave. The boots make it brutal—stiff ballet points, tight laces forcing her weight onto her toes. She can barely shuffle on them, yet she’s ordered to crawl in anyway, spine arched, chin up for inspection. A service gag fills her mouth, turning every word into a wet hum. She balances a tray on her forearms and drags herself from guest to guest, boots squeaking against the floor, thighs trembling. One wrong pour and the cane whistles through the air; she knows better now. When they finally strip her boots off, they hoist her arms above her head, one knee hitched high so she’s half-suspended and wide open. Derrick Pierce steps in. Hands grip, mouths take, her body becomes the test. The other House slaves circle, showing her what passes for permission: when to moan, when to stay silent, when to swallow. Every thrust, every slap, every barked command writes the rules into her skin before the night is over.