Author's Note:
This scene was inspired by deliciae-delectae's "Emmy," a scene from Fernando's "Cheerleader" series and my own travel experiences. Much thanks to staciliv for inspiration and looking4 it for their helpful edits.
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Texas Animal Control finally caught the remainder of Sarah's group of free women. They were some of the last of the state's "wild cunts," women who weren't owned, women who weren't registered, chipped, and collared by the state. With the ever tightening surveillance network and the huge bounties on fugitive women, it was inevitable they would be caught and sent to the state-sponsored Center for Female Rehabilitation, better known as "The Pound."
Sarah found herself inside a large shuttle bus, mounted naked on a saddle-like seat with a large black number "3" drawn on her belly. A pair of long, thick dildos nestled in her vagina and anus. Her ankles were joined with a few feet of chain and lifted high behind her while her wrists were connected behind her to a metal and leather harness that crisscrossed her breasts and back. The other half of the cord from her ankle chain ran up through a pulley to a ring at the back of the harness and the thick leather collar around her neck. It all kept her upright and unable to get any leverage to get off while her center was pressed hard into the saddle. All she could do was shake her breasts in helpless frustration. Her knees touched the metal of the pan under the saddle she was on.
Sarah tried to keep calm, to slow her breathing through the ball gag that forced her jaws uncomfortably apart. She looked around at her companions, each naked, mounted and helpless like her, with their own black numbers on their stomachs. All were probably impaled on dildos hidden in their folds. Unlike Sarah, not only were they gagged but completely hooded, unable to see the horror they were a part of. Sarah's hood was skin tight around her head, but her blindfold was folded back, allowing her to see the goings-on in the trailer.
The rest of the women could make noise. The trailer was filled with the whimpers and groans of feminine distress. Sarah heard the loud undecipherable protests from Carol, on the saddle across and to the left of her. Sarah didn't see the point of adding to the cacophony of noise and so she simply focused on breathing.
Sarah watched as two men in white lab coats, along with a woman, strolled through the center of the crying captives. She noted all the mounted women's heads were conveniently at crotch level.
"Thank you for joining me on this special occasion, Dr. Cruz," said one of the men. His lab coat covered tactical gear so he must have been a TAC officer. The man was around Sarah's age, fit, but only average height. He was the one that examined each of the women intimately, painting the numbers on their bellies before having them mounted on the saddles. His hands left Sarah hot and bothered after the examination, despite the terror of the situation, or maybe because of it.
"The honor is mine," said Dr. Cruz in accented English. He was a bit on the older side, tall and dark, wearing a dark suit under his lab coat. "Why is this a special occasion, Captain Sanchez?" the doctor asked.
The other man was TAC officer Captain Ronald Sanchez himself! Sarah heard fearful whispers about him in the last few months. He was responsible for breaking up the underground railroad, recovering fugitive women in record numbers. She thought he would be a hulking, brutal monster, but she found him an attractive, normal-looking man instead.
"This group of cunts has been eluding us for several years," replied Sanchez. "Not only is this our best catch, but also my last catch in the field." Sarah heard shouts of protests coming from the other officers around the trailer. Sanchez raised his hand in good-natured acknowledgment. "With the success of the Semental therapy on captive cunts, I'm going to be transferred to introduce Semental rehabilitation programming at the Center."
"I see," said Dr. Cruz. "It is very fortunate I am attending then. I take it you will be demonstrating the process on these women?" He motioned around the group.
"Yes, but these are not women," Sanchez corrected. "These are 'cunts,' animals that broke the laws of the state. They will become women once they're rehabilitated. But these cunts have nice a demographic set of data points. Allow me to explain," said Sanchez. They walked a few steps from to the back of the trailer to the first pair of girls.
"Normally I put the prime cunts on the right, here," Sanchez motioned at Shannon, Sarah and Chloe. "They are in the ideal band of sexual maturity and malleability. Perfect for having children, sex work or both, assuming there are no serious psychological or physiological issues." As Dr. Cruz shifted, Sarah saw a leash line clipped onto the metal collar around the standing brunette woman's neck. It looked out of place with the woman's dark business suit and heels.
Dr. Cruz gestured to the two women on the left, Carol and Beth. The middle saddle was empty. "Surely at least one of the other two would also fit the description of 'prime?'"
"You are correct Dr. Cruz," started Sanchez. "But before the Semental therapy we would have to dispose of them due to their aggressive temperament. Thanks to your invention, we rarely reject patients. All cunts now arrive at the Center docile and ready for rehabilitation. You'll see by the time we arrive."
Sanchez stepped to Carol, with short green hair poking from the hood, piercings and tattoos. The number "1" was painted on her belly. Carol was Sarah's best friend, tough, always full of fight. She was already shouting behind her gag, almost choking on it.
Sanchez ran his hands over the leather harness that bound Carol, who struggled but barely moved.
"The harness is part of the system. Not only does it restrain and punish the cunt, it has built-in sensors to monitor her vitals. We can safely determine when she might be faking or actually in danger."
He ran his hands over the hood covering Carol's shaking head. "This hood is a sophisticated interface. Not only do we physically control the cunt's senses, we map their reactions to the different stimulus and further refine the therapy."
Sanchez hefted one of the woman's large breasts in his hands. "Personally I like the fuller figures like #1 here," he commented.
Sarah checked her own smaller bosom as Carol shook herself furiously,.
"Don't let the appearance and aggression fool you. These cunts make the best women. They become sweet, hard working and passionate, once properly tamed," Sanchez continued. He connected leads to Carol's nipple piercings. "How convenient for us, #1," complemented Sanchez. "There's even a contact for the clit." He attached another lead. "The first part of the therapy is negative conditioning to reduce their resistance, so please don't touch the cunts until given the go ahead."
Dr. Cruz stepped away and shoved his assistant behind him with a bent arm. Sarah saw the end of the woman's leash wrapped around Dr. Cruz's wrist. The thought of being leashed made Sarah catch her breath.
Sanchez moved to the thin redhead Shannon next. Sarah thought of her as her bad little sister. Shannon was the daring and defiant one, often shoplifting or stealing necessities, then diving into crowds dodging the slow cops.
"#2 is a virgin. Ran away after registration, but before she was chipped by her owner," said Sanchez.
(Sarah knew Shannon's father was going to raffle her off to one of the men he owed money to. Fortunately for her she ran into Sarah's band before she got into real trouble. That is, before they ended up here.).
Sarah heard her squeal as Sanchez attached clips to the girl's cute pink nipples. He smoothed a hand down to Shannon's prominent fire-furred mound, lifting and spreading her lips.
