The room is clinical, bright, and sterile. Miss Kirsch and Kamikatze stand in their gleaming uniforms, completely in control. Their subjects are exactly where they belong. Tortoy is strapped helplessly to a chair. Canvas is stretched out on the bed, wrists and ankles locked tight into the frame.<br><br>He yanks at the restraints, desperate to flee, but the steel holds him firm. He is going nowhere.<br><br>The nurses ignore his struggling and focus on Tortoy. With cold precision, Miss Kirsch presses the first into the soft skin of his cock. A slow, steady push, and it sinks home. <br><br>Canvas watches in horror. He strains against the cuffs, his body jerking with every insertion. He knows he is next.<br><br>Miss Kirsch pauses, tracing the steel points with a gloved finger while Kamikatze selects the next . Tortoy trembles, marked and owned. When the final is placed, the nurses step back to admire their work. One slave is pierced and shaking, the other is still pulling uselessly at the

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