The extraction room pulsed with heat and the wet, rhythmic sounds of flesh being worked without mercy.
Rows of padded tables lined the dimly lit space, each one equipped with a perfectly circular hole cut at groin level, allowing unrestricted access from below.
The air was thick with the musky scent of sweat, lube, and fresh semen, mingled with the low hum of masculine groans echoing off the walls.
Beneath every table, an attendant, women in skimpy uniforms or nothing at all knelt or crouched in the shadows, hidden from the men's view. Their hands were slick with a mixture of lube and the sticky remnants of multiple loads, working relentlessly to extract every last drop from the strapped-down captives.
On table seven, a broad-shouldered man in his late twenties thrashed against the thick leather straps pinning his wrists, ankles, and chest to the padded surface.
