Little Dog in: The Traffickers' Apartment IV

SUNDAY AT DAWN

You wake up on the bathroom floor, soaked in urine, semen, and sweat. Your ass is completely destroyed and open, dripping cum from a dozen cocks. Your legs won't respond.

The apartment is silent. The twelve have left, but you hear voices in the kitchen.

"The bitch is done for," says the Latino. "But there's still one more day."

"Today, special people are coming," responds the Gypsy. "The boss wants to meet her."

You drag yourself to the bathroom door. The black man sees you and laughs:

"Look at the bitch. All busted up and still wanting more."

"Get in the shower," orders the one with the knife. "They're going to clean you inside and out. The boss doesn't want a dirty bitch."

They put you in the shower and wash you with a hose like an animal. Then they give you a brutal enema that cleans out all the cum from the day before.

"The boss is the one in charge of the whole area," explains the Latino while dressing you in just a jockstrap. "If he likes you, you'll stay as his personal bitch."

"What if he doesn't like me?" you ask with a broken voice.

"Then he'll give you to whoever he wants," laughs the Gypsy. "But don't worry, he's sure to like you. He loves bitches like you who are into vice."

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

A black Mercedes arrives. Four huge men in suits get out of the car, clearly bodyguards. And behind them, a man around 50 years old, bald, with scars on his face and a gaze that freezes your blood.

"Is this the new bitch?" he asks in a deep voice, looking you up and down.

"Yes, boss. She's very obedient and likes everything," responds the Latino nervously.

The boss approaches and grabs your face forcefully:

"Look me in the eye, bitch. Are you willing to be my personal bitch? To do everything I tell you without hesitation?"

The boss smiles, but it's a cold smile that gives you chills.

"Good. I like immediate submission," he says, releasing your face. "But first, you have to prove yourself."

He signals to his bodyguards. One of them opens a briefcase full of all kinds of drugs: crystal, cocaine, heroin, colored pills.

"You're going to put on a show for my guys," he orders, sitting on the couch. "I want to see how far you can go."

The four bodyguards position themselves in a circle around you. They're all enormous, over 40 years old, with the look of having seen it all.

"First, take this," says the boss, handing you a crystal the size of a fingernail. "Smoke it all."

Your hands tremble as you light the pipe. The first hit gets you high as a kite. Your heart is racing.

"Now take off that crap you're wearing and get on all fours," he orders. "My men are going to test you."

You undress, trembling, and get into position. The four bodyguards unzip their pants. Their cocks are enormous, rough, and menacing.