Obviously, a kinky gangbang

"Hey Skanki, isn't that the woman that brought you in?"

"It's hard to tell with the nutsack on her face, sir, but I think so," the **** answers. That's the fifth one to recognize you. You really had no idea how many slaves you had brought to Terrador station until today. And their new owners just love seeing what has happened to the former bounty hunter and humiliating you in front of the slaves you've trained.

The scoundrel using your nose as a nut-shelf finishes, blowing his load in your mouth. He keeps a firm grip on your hair while he pumps semen into your mouth. You gulp down his jizz, better to swallow it than cough it out your nose like last time. "That's a good slut," he taunts in his gruff voice. "Babes like you are so fun to fuck. Maybe I'll stop by again." You kind of hope he does; hair pulling, like all rough sex, really turns you on.

Not that he is the only one taking you roughly. The near constant slapping, tugging, and of course fucking (combined with the straining bondage) has left your body aching. Plenty of disgruntled rivals have shown up to participate in your degradation. Many like to tell you that you're nothing better than a **** while they fuck your face. And your ass has been very sore since your first customer payed for his entire crew to enjoy it.

Fortunately, not all the clients pounded your asshole. You are very glad that an 8-foot Gavleth chose your pussy for his meat club. Partly because you have no idea what his battering-ram penis would have done to your anus and because his brutish pounding had given you two body-rocking climaxes. To your embarrassment, a monitoring drone (different from the escort drone because the Syndicate is so perverted they have drones specifically designed for every kind of **** degradation) notified the crowd of each orgasm like a sports announcer, but they were still pleasurable.

"I'm going to put that tongue of yours to work," whispers a female Oo'lick in your ear. She licks it before rising and revealing the leather she wears like a second skin. Her catsuit has several conveniently placed zippers; she opens one to reveal a puffy mauve nipple, that she lower tantalizingly into your mouth. You had been trying to ignore the urges to respond to the sex swirling around you, but you're only human and can't resist twirling your tongue over the pleasure bud.

She rests her exposed breast on your ring-gag and your lips form a seal. You suck whilst your mouth massages her supple tit. Her fingernails lazily toy with your own nipple.

"Ohhhh, you are a hungry one. Ready for the main course?" she asks in her husky voice, pulling her breast from your mouth with a pop. Her lithe leather-clad body slithers past your face as she extends to her full elegant height. You hear another zipper open and turn your head to see her pink folds tucked between sky-blue skin are now available. Twisting your body, you are able to sway your head close enough to lap the woman's slit. Incidentally, the mercenary about to thrust into your pussy lets out a grunt when he misses and impacts your ass cheek.

"So eager," moans the woman with the tasty cunny. Nimbly arching one leg, she straddles your face and starts playing more actively with your tits. In response, you abandon all attempts at your stubborn apathy and deploy your best cunt licking skills, everything a life time of breaking slaves and general lesbian-ness has taught you about teasing and pleasing a woman. The irony that the skills you used to break slaves are currently being used to usher in your own enslavement escape you at the moment.

"Hey," shitheaded Irk interrupts, "its 2 more credits to use her tits."

"Oh, I'll pay you later," laughed the Oo'lick, "unless you really want me to stop the show now." Clearly threatened, Irk shuts up.

In heaven, despite being hung almost upside down with an aching asshole, your mind starts to wander. Is it really only 2 credits for your tits. The only other person to use them was a Lintman that helped himself to a tit-job while he fucked you.

A salty spray fills your mouth, washing way such vain thoughts. The slender Oo'lick grinds your face as she finishes. She steps off of you and bends to give you a parting kiss on your nose.

Whoever is fucking your pussy finishes soon after and pulls out. You feel warm water running over your crotch and a soft brush slowly spins into your hole. Either the next user wants you cleaned, and/or this is a creative, but not unpleasant reward for good behavior.

The Oo'lick's replacement is that oversized watermelon called Irk, proudly displaying his fist sized cock. Literally a chode, the member doesn't look like it will fit, but your ring gag expands to further stretch your aching jaw. Your mouth is stuffed by the thugs knob, and he begins fucking your face. You start sucking to make him cum and get the intruder out of your mouth.

While Irk satisfies himself, someone starts to eat you out. Bound and 'occupied' as you are, you can't quite see them, but they do have a long tongue. The alien's tongue writhes demonically, and despite your repulsion to Irk, you feel your arousal continuing to mount,

A third alien joins the gangbang. Some sort of tentacle monster entwines itself with your tits. Gently finger-like tentacles bend and press your erect nipples like they're complex buttons. More tentacles wiggle around your breasts, binding them together. These tentacles seem to have mouth-like parts that nibble and massage your soft breasts. A thicker, mushroom-tipped tentacle starts twirling and sliding between your tenta-bound tits.

While the tentacle monster establishes a rhythm at odds with the other aliens, fingers start toying with your tender asshole. You don't know if the anal intruders belong to the alien ravenously eating your cunt, or if a fourth being is using your body. Part of you is disgusted that so many unknown intruders are taking advantage of you. The rest of you, most of you, wishes that there were a few more.

Soon after, you are moaning around the cock thrusting into your mouth. "Yeah you like that you whore," grunts Irk. The skilled tongue deep in your pussy stops, dances out, and starts snuggling with your clit. Moans become gasps, spraying spittle around Irk's stumpy cock.

"Reaching orgasm," announces the drone, releasing fireworks, as your sopping slit spasms against the celestial tongue.

The raw bliss cascading through your nervous system is interrupted when Irk says "you must really love sucking my cock to get an orgasm from it." He is pounding in and out much faster now.

"NNNnngg lnnnahh mmreh," you try to correct while your tongue is repeatedly struck by his gentiles. His balls smack hard against your face and he leaves his dick deep in your mouth, (as deep as the stubby thing can go anyway). Two little pellets are shot out of it as Irk lets out a raspy moan.

Stumbling back, the talking mound of bullshit murmurs "show's over folks. I need a nap. The movers from the **** box are hear to pick the meat up anyway." There are a few grumbles, but the crowd has mostly dispersed by the time you catch your breath. The tentacle alien is one of the last to leave, but he manages to shoot a high-powered jet of jizz past your head and squirm off your chest in less than a minute.

It sounds like Irk is intent on getting you trained by the ****-box. It's a place you have vaguely heard of, supposedly some sort of remote control training facility. Typical, if Irk was a real master, he would train you himself.

You feel a Gavleth's four hands grip you. Turning to the burly alien, you see he has a blonde **** chained to his belt by her pierced nipples. Aside from her collar, the tanned **** wears only a chastity belt, probably out of necessity. She has a few humiliating tattoos across her athletic body warning how **** her holes are, and "nympho" is written in bold letters on her forehead.

The **** unties most of you, but leaves your hands and legs bound. The Gavleth easily drapes you over his shoulders without a word. You struggle, but it has no effect on the giant.

"How shall we handle the training before you arrive?" asks the Gavleth in a rumbling voice.

"I don't really care. Just do the default and let me know when she's trained," Irk mumbled lazily. "I just want to skip over that boring shit." He really is an idiot. Breaking a ****, earning every ounce of their submission and crafting a new life for them is one of the most amazing experiences. It's not about the end. There are robots for cleaning your floors and sextoys to suck you off. A **** is about a deep personal connection. And does he really think you can just be broken by some assembly line on a default setting. You knew he was a stupid slob, but this is a new low.

Dangling from the Gavleth's muscular shoulder, you bounce when he shrugs. Bare ass high in the air, you're taken wherever the brute wants you. At least, you have the sexy blonde to look at along the way.

As you are carried, you think on your future. How bad could this ****-box really be? A machine can't break you. It'll probably just shock you and make you please various fake cocks. But that sounds worse than slavery. It would be monotony broken only when Irk, a lazy thug with no sense of artful BDSM, stopped by to clumsily fuck you.

Your transport stops and barks out "untie the bitch. No outside equipment." You are held in front of the Gavleth while the **** obeys. Over your shoulder, you see a monstrous wall, that seems to be made of blocks, varying in size from a kennel to a large room. They slowly shift and grow as you stare. Could they be **** cells? This whole section of Terrador must be the ****-box; the scale makes you feel insignificant.

The approach to the syndicates factory awakens an instinctual fear in you. Rumours of how this place can churn out slutty slaves at an industrial level echo in the back of your mind. The space station's massive, eerily empty street ends in a bleak dead end, with only mechanical maws in the floor and wall offering a way forward. The Gavleth has stopped by one of these pits of hopelessness.

When your legs are free, you struggle with renewed desperation, but the Gavleth wraps a powerful fist around each ankle and spreads your legs. You attempt to flail your arms to similar success after the blonde removes the rope from them. The living delivery truck holds you spread eagle in his iron grip and steps to the pit that will swallow you whole. You wildly twist your torso (its the only thing you can do). Peering into the blackness, you try to think of one last way to escape. Butterflies flutter through your stomach as the Gavleth tosses you and for a split-second you are weightless. Your screams echo down the hole. Uselessly biting the air, you descend into the abyss.