What Else? #28 Gets Fucked.

A woman walked down the aisle past them. She wore the same steel belt and collar as the other women, but also wore a pair of large stripper heels and a valet hat and vest. She placed a key tagged with #28 on it into the John's hand before sauntering back to the front. As she passed, Emma noticed the way she was biting her lip.

#28 hopped up on the side of one of an empty card table. Were they going to do this right here? Out in public. He removed the front lock from her pussy and set it aside. Now freed, the man pulled on the steel base. Slowly, a dripping wet steel phallus made made it's way inch by inch from the woman's pussy. Emma put her hands over her mouth. It was massive. He kept on pulling and pulling, until what had to be a foot of dildo had been removed. It wasn't very thick, but the sides were designed in a series of wavy ridges. #28 moaned and groaned in a shrieking voice, no doubt feeling every inch of it move in intricate detail thanks to the ridges.

"So many indents. It must move around inside of them constantly." Emma was thinking out loud now. Sean put his arm around her waist, and held her closer to his side. "Do they always have that in?" Sean didn't answer. He didn't know either.

The customer showed no compunction about pulling down his trousers right on a gambling floor filled with people. No one even bothered to stop to look. This was normal. This was routine. #28 spread her legs like she was doing the splits. She must have had lots of practice. When he shoved his fat ugly cock into her, the noise she made wasn't normal. Even just the head was enough to turn her voice into a guttural animistic screech. Her pitch didn't seem to match the man's rythem much at all. A stray thought crossed Emma's head. It wasn't his cock that was doing this to her.

At a nearby table, another man pulled down his trousers and gestured to a nearby Asian woman marked as #17. She dutifully got on her knees under the table and slurped up his cock, dripping it with saliva. The moment it touched her mouth, she joined her #28's screaming with a **** groaning of her own, muffled only by the flesh pounding her face like it was just another hole.

#28 humped and thrusted wildly, knocking over a neatly piled stack of whit poker chips, and throwing her hands spastically every which direction. Then, without warning, she went totally stiff punctuated by sudden roulette-like shakes. An orgasm to be sure, but unlike one Emma had ever expierienced in her life. #28's eyes rolled up mindlessly.

None of this was normal. None of this was anything what Emma imaged sex with a brothel worker looked like. Whatever was going on here. Whoever this place was being run by. Something was being done to these women.

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