The Debtor's Corral

Andrea Hannover sat patiently in the waiting area that the Agency called the "Debtor's Corral", a giant room with row upon row of hard, backless wooden benches. The smell of a cleanliness that fell just short of hospital antiseptic lingered in the air, warring with the tang of sweat and anticipation from the women sitting on those benches. Dark, oaken walls and a distant ceiling with dim lights all contributed to a strange "Hell's Anteroom" vibe that she didn't particularly care for.

Sit up straight, they had told her in the orientation, no use compounding your issues with poor posture. People will be watching you on camera from the moment you enter, bidding for your debt.

Women all, they lined up on bench after bench, waiting their turns for a call forward, wearing any clothing they liked as long as they didn't sport white or red.

Where do men go when they have unpayable debts? Andrea wondered. Labour camps or some such, I'd imagine, or do they have places like this for men? Who gets the worst of it?

She tried not to make eye contact with any of the other debtors, lest it crack her resolve.

Not everyone gets chosen. Not everyone is offering enough to find a bidder. I could wait here all day and never-

"Mistress Hannover," one of the attendant's called her from the front of the room, her voice soft and slightly sympathetic. "Andrea Hannover?"

"Here," Andrea replied, standing up and straightening the crick out of her back.

She turned her neck gently, twice, to loosen the stiff muscles, and straightened out her shoulder length black hair.

"Come forward, please."

Her low heels clicking softly on the black marble tiles of the floor, Andrea walked down the centre aisle past four rows of other waiting women. She reached the attendant, a woman calmly sitting behind a small desk. The attendant wore a well tailored red suit jacket which served as the uniform of the Debtor's Recovery Agency.

What is this like for her? Andrea wondered. Watching us go in, hundreds of debtors per day, to serve the vices of wealthy men beyond the door behind her.

"Please sit," the woman waved her toward a cushioned stool, the gesture one of slightly sorrowful empathy.

Andrea quietly sat down, keeping her back straight, watching the woman consult her computer while adjusting her white blouse to centre perfectly under the split in the red jacket. As per the Agency's instructions, Andrea herself had not worn anything red or white, choosing a simple black, knee-length dress for the occasion.

Tight from the shoulders down to the hips, loose below that. That was the recommendation.

"I see," the woman finally said. "This isn't too bad. You have a debt of seven hundred twenty five credits to pay off today?"

"Yes, ma'am," Andrea said.

"You have chosen the work you are willing to accept," the woman handed a small pad over to Andrea, "Please confirm."

Andrea examined the long list of options, confirming that she had left most of the boxes unchecked.

Frankly, there's a lot of stuff I won't do for money.

"That's correct," she told the woman, passing the pad back.

"Are you certain?" the agent asked. "Without any willingness to even offer a handjob, this amount of money exceeds most women's pain threshold. In fact..."

The agent paused, tapping away at her own computer's keyboard.

"Yes," she grimaced and looked up at Andrea. "You won't be able to do this in one session, which means you will accumulate interest penalties."

"What?" Andrea felt a chill. "I don't want to do this twice."

I had a hard enough time getting up the nerve to come once. I want this over and done with.

"Well, then," the agent said with a shrug. "Legally, I can't let you take this all in spanking and paddling. You have a number of potential Customers who are willing to take on your debt, but you can really only go up to five hundred credits or so the way you've made your offer."

Andrea gulped, taking the pad back

"Do you have any suggestions?" Andrea asked.

The agent looked over her own computer screen, presumably examining what might interest the various bidders.

"The nipple options, perhaps?" the agent proposed with a little encouragement in her voice. "A clamp here. A few slaps there? Even through the bra, some will pay."

Andrea cringed.

"Or perhaps allowing some part of your body to be ejaculated on?" the agent indicated a number of options in the middle section of the pad.

"I was hoping to avoid getting too messy," Andrea twisted her lips.

I don't want to feel like a prostitute, for god's sake. I just wanted to be spanked and then leave with a zero balance.

"Then the shaving section might be a better option," the agent offered with a confident nod. "Assuming you have hair to be shaved?"

Andrea nodded nervously.

"It will require exposing yourself more than the spankings, but many will pay for the right to remove your hair."

Wincing, Andrea checked that box.

I'm here already, she shivered, I'd heard I could just bend over and let one of these men spank me through my dress if it's thin enough and my dress is pretty. It would hurt, but I'd be free and clear when he finished. But now I'm letting someone look at my crotch? And even use a razor on it?

She scrolled down the list and ran into one more item that made her body tense up.

"Is that really worth three hundred credits?" she asked the agent.

The woman looked where Andrea had pointed and nodded.

"Oh, yes," she said spritely, "They love that one. Intimate and invasive, although it's very small. If you choose the bigger one, they'll pay even more."

"Does it hurt?"

"I have accommodated it myself," the agent shook her head. "As I said, the inserted part is quite small, not painful at all. It's more about the expected exhibitionism. They'll want to watch you walk about. It will put you well below the legal threshold for spanking and paddling."

Shaking nervously, Andrea checked the box.

"Excellent," the agent said. "Fingerprint here and you're all ready to go. And-"

Andrea took a deep breath and pressed her index finger to the pad.

The agent looked at her own screen, watching something scroll by.

"Perfect!" she said. "You already have a buyer. They really wanted someone to do the tail, I suppose. We'll just accept the offer and... there you go."

Tapping the last few keys, the agent looked up at Andrea.

"Enter the Payment Area through the door behind me and go to the back right, section 15," she said, dismissing Andrea with a casual wave. "Thank you."

"Thanks," Andrea frowned.

Andrea wasn't sure what she'd expected in the Payment Area, but it wasn't what she found.

I thought we'd have rooms or something, but this is just... chaos.

Fair enough, they had broken the Payment Area up into thirty two sections, each one marked by yellow tape on the floor and a pole with a numbered flag attached to it, but the Agency had made zero allowance for privacy. Every one of the sections left its occupants - female debtors and male customers - in view of everyone else.

Is it safer for us this way? Andrea wondered. The orientation made a big deal of how much care the Agency takes to ensure everyone followed their contracts.

Shaking, Andrea tried to ignore the other women, the cacophony of hands spanking flesh, debtors groaning and saying their "thank you"s.

"Please," a woman on her knees whispered, "come on my tits."

You always have to say 'please' and 'thank you', Andrea remembered, they pay more for that and the agents say that absolutely every woman checks that box because why wouldn't you? It's only a little extra humiliation for a lot of money.

Andrea passed by the begging woman, not looking directly, but unavoidably catching the man's feverish jerking in her peripheral vision

She's going to have sticky stuff all over her breasts in a moment or two, Andrea cringed. Why would anyone allow that to be done to her?

The general sound of slapping never stopped. Up to thirty one stations already going meant that at any given moment, many men delivered spankings to many women. The chorus of 'please' and 'thank you' resulted in a squeaky, unsynchronised caterwaul of gratitude.

There's a definite vibe here, Andrea thought, not at all like the creepy, anticipatory darkness outside. Here it's just wild and reckless. I just need to get through the chaos of the next fifteen minutes or so. If all these women can do what they're doing, I can take what's coming to me.

Reaching Station 15 required her to walk down most of the central aisle through the Payment area and then traverse a little path between the taped off sections of 7 and 8. Station 15 lay against the right wall.

At station 7, a woman lay on a table on her back, naked except for a pair of red panties, holding her legs up while a man slapped her cheeks from underneath.

"Thank you, sir!" she yelped after each slap.

At Station 8, a fully clothed woman lay on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the table, a man's penis filling her mouth. He casually slapped her breasts through the padding of her bra as he gently thrust into her.

I didn't check breast-slapping or oral sex, Andrea thought, frowning at those hapless women for the much higher debts they must have accumulated, but I did check that other box.

Men and women wearing the red of the Agency walked up and down the aisles, ostensibly there to enforce the Agency's rules and ensure that everyone abided by the terms of their contracts, a small baton carried in their hands serving as a reminder to everyone of their authority.

That's how they do it, she thought, every Customer in here knows that the Agency's enforcers are watching at all times.

Andrea found the station just as the Agency pamphlet had led her to believe.

Except I thought it would be in a private room for some reason.

As she sat down in the Debtor's chair, a simple wooden place for her butt, Andrea found everything neat and in order. She surveyed the rest of the section, which consisted of a four drawer, wooden dresser next to a little sink and a small, sturdy table at about hip height, cushioned on its surface. A second chair, with proper upholstery, would serve for the Customer if he needed to sit.

The table is large enough for me to lay on if I left my calves hanging off, she thought, and sturdy enough to bend over if that's how he wants to spank me.

Andrea tried to stay calm but found it difficult. Despite herself, she looked to her left side where, at station 16, a topless woman held her arms in the air while a man attached small clamps to her nipples and tightened them.

"Thank you, sir," 16 said to her Customer with a sniff, "a little tighter so they don't fall off."

The woman made brief eye contact with Andrea before looking away with a bit of shame she tried to hide from the Customer.

"That's better sir," she said, her expression cleaned up before he saw her face.

At station 14, a woman bent over her table and asked for spanking after spanking.

"Well, hello," a female voice spoke behind her.

Andrea turned around in surprise and found herself overwhelmed by the ocean of naked women spread across the floor, all begging for and receiving their spankings and assorted punishments.

"Um, hi?" Andrea looked the woman over, seeing her strangely bunched up white skirt and white blouse. "Who are you?"

The red is for the agents and enforcers, Andrea thought, and only the Customers are supposed to wear white, but this is a woman wearing all white.

"I'm Deirdre, the one who purchased your debt," the woman said. "Well, my husband and I did, but I'm the one to collect. He'll just watch."

Deirdre had light brown hair, done up in a little pixie cut with a bit of a kiss-curl on the right side. The asymmetry suited her face neatly.

"He can do that?" Andrea asked, only now noticing the dark haired man who stepped out of the visual noise of the Payment Area's background.

"You checked the box for it," the woman pointed out. "It'll save you quite a few spankings."

Her husband took a seat on the more comfortable chair reserved for Customers while Andrea tried to remember the list of options she'd accepted.

I checked a lot of the boxes that didn't involve depraved sexual acts and pain I didn't want to experience. Did one of them mention a spectator?

"Oh," Andrea said, then remembered her instructions, "Well, I thank you for taking on my debt."

"You're welcome," Deirdre said. "Now, where shall we start?"

Andrea sniffed, sitting up straight and preparing to follow the script she'd been given.

"It's your choice," Andrea said. "I have committed myself to debts I can not pay and I have offered you my body to punish."

"I see," Deirdre drawled out patiently.

"Would you like to start with spanking me?" Andrea asked. "Shaving me or... or inserting the tail?"

"First," Deirdre said. "Tell me you want me to spank your ass."

"Of course," Andrea took a breath, feeling her voice crack. "I would like you to spank my ass. I am grateful for the opportunity to be spanked for my debt."

"Say 'ass'," Deirdre held up a deliberate finger of admonishment. "Every time you talk about spanking. Use the word."

"I am grateful for the opportunity to have my ass spanked for my debt," Andrea corrected herself with a gulp.

This is what they pay for, Andrea thought, the enthusiasm I have to show for whatever words they want to come out of my mouth.

"First let's stand up and lift that dress," Deirdre said. "We'd like to have a nice look at you."

"Of course," Andrea said.

She had originally hoped to do all of her spankings and paddlings through her dress and not have to reveal herself at all. But once she'd entered this room, seen all these women topless, bottomless and otherwise exposed, she'd felt something break inside her.

Everyone else is doing it, after all.

At station 7, the woman on her back shifted her panties aside to expose herself.

"Please enjoy looking at my pussy," she told her man in front of her.

Andrea inhaled as she stood and pulled her dress up.

"Please enjoy looking at my-" she started.

"Lose the panties," Deirdre said.

"Of course," Andrea nodded, pushing them down and letting them hit the floor. "Please enjoy looking at my pussy."

"Call it your cunt," Deirdre told her.

"Please enjoy looking at my cunt."

"Snatch,"

"Please enjoy looking at my snatch."

Deirdre frowned and turned to look at her husband, who shrugged. Andrea caught a strange bulging shape at the back of Deirdre's skirt before she turned back to face Andrea.

"We like 'pussy' better when you say it."

"Of course," Andrea said. "Have you looked at my pussy enough? I'd like to show you my ass."

"Yes, turn around and put your hands on your knees."

"Yes, ma'am," Andrea said. "I'd like you to spank me if you're ready."

"Not yet," Deirdre said. "We'd just like to look at your ass."

"Please do," Andrea said. "You've paid for it."

They stood behind her a while as Andrea waited and tried to keep her body steady under their examination.

"Would you like to shave my pussy?" Andrea asked.

No response came.

They haven't replied to the offer of spanking or shaving, she realised, that means they want the other thing first and that I have to ask for it.

"Would you like to, um, insert the tail?"

"Pardon?" Deirdre's voice scolded. "Where will I insert it?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Andrea said.

Oh, god, here we go.

"Would you like to insert the tail in my ass?"

"I think I would, yes," Deirdre said. "Spread your cheeks gently."

"Like this, ma'am?"

"Perfect," Deirdre said. "I'm going to oil up your little hole. Would you like that?"

I'd better use the words right. She already told me.

"Yes, please," Andrea said. "Oil up my little asshole."

"Good girl."

Standing there with her cheeks spread, Andrea waited without looking while Deirdre went to the dresser and retrieved what she needed.

A squirting sound came from, presumably, a tube of lubricant and Deirdre's cold finger touched Andrea's butt crack. The finger slid down to her hole and made wet circles around her rear entrance before pushing some of the lubricant inside.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, please, ma'am."

"Please what?"

"Please put the tail in my ass."

Andrea tried to relax as best she could, feeling the little ball press against her asshole, opening against her muscles and pushing up into her ass.

"Oh!" she squeaked, feeling the ball get past her entrance and settle itself behind the ring of her muscles.

"Hm?" Deirdre asked.

At least it's small. It's not stretching me out or anything. It's just weird to have anything up there.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said. "It feels nice in my ass."

"That's a girl," Deirdre said. "Now let's show my husband, hm?

"Ma'am?" Andrea asked and turned to look.

Deirdre surprised Andrea by coming to stand beside her. Andrea then noticed, as she looked aside, that the other woman had shed her white skirt but kept a pair of white panties in place. The panties had been pushed aside at the back to allow a thick, white furry tail to stick out of Deirdre's ass, pointing back toward her husband. Andrea looked at her own rear to discover a similar foot-long black tail, a twin to the one Deirdre wore, sticking out of her ass.

Deirdre must have put hers in before she came out here, Andrea thought, remembering then the suspicious shape of the woman's skirt. Was she wearing it the whole time?

"Oh," Andrea exclaimed in surprise. "You have one, too?"

"It's my husband's birthday," Deirdre explained. "You and I are a little present for him, you see?"

Andrea didn't know what to say, but remembered her orientation.

If you're confused, always express gratitude. That's what they pay for.

"Thank you, ma'am," Andrea said. "For letting me join your... celebration."

"Let's wiggle for him, hm?"

Side by side, the two women wiggled their asses, flaring their matching tails from side to side.

"Now you walk around and shake it for us," Deirdre directed.

"Yes, ma'am," Andrea said, beginning a circuit of the small, taped off space.

Walking proved awkward with the hard object tucked up her ass, but she made sure to put on a show of wiggling her cheeks to get the most play out of the tail.

You can never forget it's there, that's for sure.

She passed the border with section 7, where the woman encouraged her customer to come all over her pussy, for which purpose she had pushed her panties aside.

The woman in 8 was having her face slapped with her customer's erection. As Andrea pranced and wiggled her way around the edge of her space, trying to get the best use of her tail, she came around to the border with 14, where a woman sat calmly in the chair, her face dripping with semen as her heavily breathing customer examined her with a smirk on his face from his own chair.

Finally she came along the wall to 16, seeing that the woman there still had the nipple clamps in place and was gently bouncing her breasts up and down.

"Am I jumping high enough, sir?" she asked her customer.

"Yes, keep going," he said.

I will never let my debt get that high, Andrea thought. That looks really painful.

Returning to the centre, Andrea faced Deirdre.