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Janet's degradation continues.

Surely they'd have to kill that bitch to take her ass!? But when people witnessed that broken woman stumbling forward and buckling on those crazy ass platforms, well...this was a dazed Ho happily putting her cloistered pussy on the chopping block.

Eyes downcast and green lips trembling Dulce stood shrunken before the victor.

"Title?" Maxwell asked.

"G-g-glove compartment." Dulce replied miserably and a couple of members of Maxwell's crew dutifully stepped away to ransack the ride. They ran back and handed the documents to Maxwell.

"I got your ride...Coco Lopez, (he theatrically read from the slip) I popped your losing cherry twice, now I want your shit. Take off them fucking big girl dominatrix clothes. You ain't shit now."

The crowd hushed. All focus was on the quivering girl who had once been proud Dulce Satana. Had part of Dulce doubted that it could really happen? That she could be...stripped in public...paraded for all to see...destroyed as racer. No, she'd always been aware of the stakes, even if the dominant, aggressive side of her nature had refused to actually envisage it happening. But it was actually happening and Dulce suddenly switched into panic mode. Yet this panic to preserve her dignity sat upon an undercurrent of something else. A tingling she struggled to ignore. The unthinkable notion that a part of her was perversely responding to the idea of losing it all.

"We can work something out. I got other rides. A stake in a garage. I...I can race for you. Make you some money." Dulce blurted desperately, her watery brown eyes making contact with Maxwell's for the first time since her loss.

"You finished as a racer. And I ain't here to get rich. I'm here to dominate this shit and I'm starting with Queen of the scene. You getting dethroned and demoted Ho."

"Please...I'll fucking do anything...just don't do this to me here." Dulce said quietly through gritted teeth. Tears finally made an appearance, tracing chalky trails through her dark foundation.

"Imani wants your shit and I wanna see the goods. Get to it Dulce."

Like a spooked doe Dulce suddenly turned to flee. The realisation that she wasn't going to be able to bargain her way out of being stripped and shamed in public brought about an almost instinctive effort to buck away from the threat. It was too late for that of course. Peeling away into the night never to be seen again really should've happened as soon as she'd realised the race was lost. Instead she'd stupidly returned to the slaughterhouse. Dazed, but still believing that her respected ass could somehow talk her way out of the situation. She was wrong. Her brain knew that, even if her bucking body didn't.

"Oh no you don't..." Dulce heard Imani spit to her rear.

Milliseconds after Dulce had turned and sought to step, her head snapped back violently and she struggled to keep her feet. Panic swelled in her chest when she realised that not only did somebody have hold of her long glossy butt long ponytail, but if they tugged any harder something even worse was going to-...

Roars of laughter erupted as Dulce stumbled and dropped to one knee. Her hands instinctively sought to confirm what had happened. What remained of Dulce Satana's lustrous green streaked raven hair ended in a knot of unsightly split ends tied up with a yellow elastic band barely an inch from the back of her skull. Dulce looked up to see a Imani clowning with the clip-on fake ponytail that she'd barbarically ripped from the back of her old Sugar Mommy's head.

Unfortunately for Dulce the clowning ceased quickly. Fast as lightening, two meaty moist hands shot down and seized Dulce by the throat. With ease the deceptively powerful black girl lifted Dulce flailing to her platformed feet.

"Where you going with my shit Ho!" The suddenly frightening black girl boomed into Dulce's anguished face.

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