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Chapter 13 by Blackhand Blackhand

What does processing entail?

The Tattoo Room

In the video, the chained Cecilia was led down the path. A few other women were pulled out from their cages and joined the dank dirty procession. Their handlers treated them without mercy. They were tugged sternly, and given little chance to stretch even after being pulled out from their small cages. Their treatment was consistent with their status. They were not women. They were holes and wombs for sale.

The men led them into a large white room. The sterile tiled surface was a strange contrast from the dirtiness of the holding cells. When the camera returned to Cecilia and the other girls they seemed cleaner too if not damp skinned. They must have been **** to shower.

The camera panned the room. It was filled with stern black chairs with build in restraints. Only one of them was currently occupied. It held a black woman who was restrained and had a bit gag in her mouth. Despite that, she was sure making a lot of noise. A man wearing scrubs was sitting on a small stool close to her spread legs, pressing a needle to the spot just above her mound. A tattoo. Cecilia and the watching women stared on with apprehension and perhaps a bit of arousal. They had all been volunteers after all.

"This is uh..." Cecilia gulped. "This is an important part of processing. It's where we go to get marked for sale. The guard told me that I'm about to have my name replaced..."

The video transitioned to Cecilia's turn. A man fit a bit gag into her mouth and sat her down in one of the restraining chairs. When the man came to tattoo her, she let you as much sound as she could, and clearly tried not to squirm in her chair.

Sarah had long since given up trying not to squirm in her own chair. Her cheeks had gone tomato colored. This was real. What was happening to these women was real. Her fingers had moved from tepid rubbing into something more frantic. She was now openly playing with her clit, and her breath grew softer and more ragged every moment.

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