New Orders: Kristi Noem, ICE Bitch

Kristi Noem's tenure as the White House Skank lasted longer than anyone expected. Two years worth of sucking, fucking, sleazing her way around on camera with nary a shower or shave, but the novelty - and the president's interest in it - wore out its welcome. Once it did, she found herself with new orders. Ones that returned her to active duty among the rabble she used to command in the times before the president gained complete and total control.

When Kristi first heard the news, she rejoiced at the idea of a reward for good behavior. She learned very quickly that under this new system, while men only ever failed upward, women like her went the other way.

"Wake up, bitch."

A baton clanged against her cage, jarring her awake. She got up on her all fours, naked, filthy as ever, matted hair everywhere that parted to remind her of her place in the kennel. Loud, sharp, piercing barks rang in her ears as her cellmates yapped from the noise begging to be free. Luckily, for Kristi Noem, she would get that as her cage door swung open. She crawled out, her snug collar pressing on her neck as the man attached and tugged on her leash.

She knew the routine. She followed it every day. Sniffing the ground, she trailed the man as they left the kennel and entered open air in the ICE camp. Fresh rain had turned the path into a thick mud she trudged through on hands and knees. In the early days, agents and visitors gawked at her degrading parade around base. She still got a few of those looks from fresh recruits along with very obvious erections in their pants. For everyone else, she had fallen too far for any of it to matter. They carried out their duties like any other day, paying no mind to the skanky mutt among them.

"Please," Kristi begged. "Talk to the president. I can't go on like this. He has to see I've been a faithful-"

A hard thwack to her ass shut her up. It was the established protocol to punish her any time she acted up or disobeyed. She took that clear and stinging message to heart and went onward, her hair dragging in the muck, fingers sinking through thick layers. In very little time at all, they reached her first destination of the day.

"Oh no. Please no. You can't make me do... do THAT."

The pleas didn't come from Kristi. They came from the man in the cell she reached. Looking up at him, she played her part and clenched her ass to get her butt plug tail wagging happily. The door unlocked and opened. She trotted inside, leaving a trail behind her. Approaching him, she rose up and sniffed at his crotch.

New people to the base made the mistake of thinking from afar that sex with an official ICE Bitch would be exciting or at least passable. They didn't know the turn off of her stench, or the shame hanging around them everywhere they went for fucking the most infamous dog on base. It was usually enough to keep the men in line, but every so often, someone failed in his duties and examples needed to be made.

Gagging, the man undid his pants and shuddered when Kristi licked his balls. His dick firmed up to her touches despite himself, preparing him for the worst to come. When she turned around and presented, he knew the next step - and the alternative if he refused.

"Don't think I'm enjoying this for a second, bitch," he warned. "Let's get this over quickly and you can go back to fucking the other kennel mutts."

He mounted her, the full length pushing in. She didn't even react. Day in, day out of her own duties had numbed her. Getting pounded from behind was just another day in the life of an ICE Bitch, with no end in sight.