Take channy for inspection

After reviewing the papers on all three slaves, your gaze lingers on Channy's description. Her petite frame and well-trained holes make her ideal for the blowjob bar—versatile, obedient, and built to take constant use without complaint. You point to her and tell the attendant, "I'll start with this one. Bring her to the inspection booth."

The attendant nods and leads Channy forward by her collar, her tight black see-through dress clinging to her small B-cup tits and peachy arse, the gaping anal plug visible through the sheer fabric, keeping her hole stretched wide. She walks with her hands behind her back, head bowed, the picture of trained submission. The booth is a small, dimly lit room with a padded bench, a mirror on one wall, and restraints dangling from the ceiling—perfect for hands-on evaluation.

You follow them in, the door clicking shut behind you. Channy stands still in the center, eyes downcast, awaiting your command. You circle her slowly, like appraising livestock at market, your hand reaching out to grab a fistful of her bleach blonde hair and yank her head back. Her small tits heave under the dress as she gasps softly, but she doesn't resist.

"On your knees, ****," you order, your voice firm and dismissive. "Yes, sir," she replies immediately, her voice soft and monotone, dropping to her knees on the cold floor. You don't waste time—your cock is already straining against your pants from the anticipation. You unzip and pull it out, thick and hard, veins pulsing as you slap it against her cheek. "Open your mouth. Show me what that trained fuckhole can do."

"Yes, sir," she says, parting her lips wide. You shove your cock past them without mercy, feeling her warm, wet mouth envelop the head. Her tongue flattens against the underside as you push deeper, her small hands staying clasped behind her back. You grip her hair tighter, using it like reins to **** her head forward until your balls press against her chin. She gags slightly but holds, her throat constricting around your shaft—proof of her training.

While she sucks, you continue the inspection, treating her body like merchandise. One hand slides down to grope her small B-cup tits through the sheer dress, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her whimper around your cock. "These little tits won't draw much attention in the bar, but they're perky enough for grabbing," you mutter aloud, evaluating as if she's not even there. You twist her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, watching her body jolt but her mouth never falters, slurping steadily on your length.

You pull her off your cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your glistening tip. "Stand up and bend over the bench, arse out." "Yes, sir," she obeys, rising quickly and positioning herself with her hands on the bench, legs spread, the see-through dress riding up to expose her peachy arse cheeks. The anal plug gleams under the light, her hole stretched around it, pink and inviting.

You step behind her, slapping her arse cheeks hard—left, then right—watching them jiggle and redden. "This peachy little arse is broken in good," you say, spreading her cheeks wide to inspect the plug. You tug it out slowly, her hole gaping open, slick from whatever lube the trainers used. She stays silent except for a soft intake of breath, but no protest—slaves don't get that luxury. You push two fingers into her arse without warning, feeling the tight ring clench around them despite the stretching. "Holds cock well, even after all that use. Perfect for when the bar gets rowdy and you need to double up on service."

Satisfied with her arse, you move to her front, flipping her around to face you. You hike up the dress and grab her prominent pussy flaps, tugging them roughly like handles on a toy. Her shaven mound is smooth, the lips puffy and sensitive—clearly played with often. "Tight pussy with these flaps to yank while she's sucking off a customer," you assess, sliding a finger inside her. She's wet already, her body responding on command, walls gripping your digit. You add a second finger, pumping them in and out while she stands there, legs trembling slightly. "Still squeezes like a virgin, even after all the cocks and toys. Good for quick fucks between shifts."

You withdraw your fingers and shove her back to her knees. "Back to work, ****. Suck harder this time—show me you can handle a busy night." "Yes, sir," she murmurs, leaning forward to take your cock deep again. Her head bobs faster now, cheeks hollowing as she sucks with practiced rhythm, her small tits bouncing lightly with the motion. You thrust into her mouth, fucking her face like a sleeve, your hands roaming her body—squeezing her arse, slapping her tits—degrading her fully as you evaluate.

"Lightweight fuck doll, just like the papers say," you grunt, lifting her by the hair to test her weight. She's easy to maneuver, barely 4ft 11, so you could impale her on your cock standing up if needed. Her mouth stays latched on, drool running down her chin as you use her. The evaluation drags on, your cock throbbing in her throat, building toward release while you poke and prod every inch of her like prized cow flesh—ready for the bar's endless demands.

Finally, with a growl, you bury yourself deep and cum, flooding her mouth with thick ropes. She swallows every drop without spilling, pulling off only when you allow it. "Yes, sir," she says softly, wiping her lips as you tuck yourself away. Channy's proven her worth—obedient, degraded, and built for use. You'll take her, but first, you eye the other two for a full lineup.