fox's blaster muzzle

You’ve been begging her to fill you up with her eggs since you started dating. And good goddess if she doesn’t deliver.

She fucks you open with her tongue and fingers, and when you think you can’t take any more pleasure, she fucks you slowly, her dick hitting every sensitive part inside of you until you can’t recognize your own name anymore. You can feel your ears twitching on the top of your head, and every time she touches the little pom-pom of your tail, you let out a broken cry of her name, which she seems to love.

By the time she starts pushing her eggs inside of you, you are barely functioning, your whole body is oversensitive. Each egg feels like it’s too big, like it’s stretching you to the point of insanity, but they, somehow, fit inside of you. One after the other, until you lose count of how many she feeds your hungry pussy.

“Such a good bunny for me, letting me breed her, fill her so completely…” She keeps whispering the filthiest things, which only drive you further into your nonsensical pleasure. At some point, she stops coming. All her eggs inside of you already. Your abdomen is distended, so full of her eggs you feel like you are about to explode. “Such a pretty bunny, ready to go out?”

“O-out?!” You croak out and she chuckles.

“Of course, we need to go compliment the neighbors on their decoration, don’t we? It was your idea.” Fuck, she’s right, it was your idea.

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can go out like this,” you tell her, voice trembling.

But she only kisses the tip of your pink nose, her hand pulling at your tail and making you squeal one more time before she pushes a plug in your stretched hole. You clench around it instinctively, and she moans.

“Of course you can, bunny. You’re gonna look so cute walking around with your little tummy all plump with my eggs...” You whimper, and she smirks, her tongue licking up your neck before whispering against your ear: “Come on, get dressed.”

She pulls away, getting dressed while you try to get up. Your legs are shaking, unable to get up from the bed while you feel her eggs inside of you, her cum. You are going completely insane, with each second your arousal grows and grows. You are pretty sure you are going to pass out because of orgasms if you walk when you are so filled up. This seems to be amusing to your girlfriend, who helps you up while she chuckles.

You get dressed with her help, and she takes you out around the corner, her arm around your waist and coughs every time you moan, to cover for you. You can feel the weight of her eggs and her come inside of you. It’s intoxicating and completely distracting. You can barely focus enough to breathe, let alone trying to be somewhat coherent when your neighbor stops you to chat.

You only get to walk one block before she takes mercy on you and brings you back to your house, smiling cheerfully at your neighbors. The fact that you are out and about, asked to be friendly when your pussy is so filled you can feel some of her come slipping around the plug… Fuck, you love it.

Your lamia girlfriend lays you down on the bed, sitting back on her tail at the edge of the bed and staring at your pussy. “Come on, little bunny, show me the Easter eggs,” she says the second you are sprawled in the bed, legs open and completely exposed to her hungry eyes.

She pulls out the plug and your body shakes, a tiny orgasm ripping through your body before you feel it. The eggs slipping through your cervix. And so much of her cum it rapidly spills out.

With each egg you push out, your girlfriend grunts and your body trembles in aftershocks. It’s too much, but you can’t stop them. You can’t even talk with the pleasure that it brings you. It’s mind-numbing, and way better than you expected.

By the time all the eggs are out, you are panting, your body limp and your pussy feeling so raw you can only focus on that. Your clit feels hypersensitive, and the second your girlfriend slithers towards you on the bed and touches it, an orgasm rips through your body with such force you scream at the top of your lungs. Your girlfriend covers your mouth with her hand, but you aren’t paying attention anymore, your eyes rolling back into your head and your senses transcending into a new reality where only blind pleasure exists.

You come back to your senses cuddled against your girlfriend’s scaly chest. “Do we need to wait till next year to do that again?” You whisper, voice rough.

She chuckles, “no, little bunny. I’ll fill you with my eggs every time you want.”

The tips were insane, and the bar had never seen so many extra zeros after closing. Your co-workers ended the night with bras stuffed fat with kredits, and they slapped your back like you just hit the jackpot instead of getting publicly fucked and milked half-unconscious.

And the videos dropped before your shift even ended.

Grainy clips first. Just a few seconds of you walking around the tables, tray balanced in your palm, dark wet patches blooming on your top. Then clearer cuts. Records from different angles. You up on the bar, skirt shoved up, legs wide open, ridged tentacles plunging so deep your belly bulges with every thrust. Your swollen breasts dripping with milk. Drool on your chin. Eyes glassy and unfocused. Your own broken, crackling moans mixing with wet slaps and alien laughter.

"She’s soaking the bar. Someone get a pitcher."

Human cow in heat, the caption said, and Worth every kredit.

It went viral. You went viral. And with it, of course, The Den, too. The views climbed to millions, comments begging for a round two and three and four. 

The bar isn't subtle about what it is about. Aliens come to see humans, rare and exotic in these parts of the galaxy, and they pay anything to try them, too. To get a taste of soft skin and clenching cunt.

So much so that-

"I want to make it a regular thing," your boss states. "Every week. Fridays." She leans forward slightly, claws tapping on the table. "You get a nice bonus for it."

You open your mouth. Then close it.

You knew it was coming. You saw the videos and the comments. You saw how full the bar was the next week. You felt it even during the quiet shifts. The weight of the stares picturing you up on the counter again, stuffed full.

But every week? The thought makes your stomach twist. You can't complain about your job. The money is good, better than anything you could have on Earth. But getting fucked and milked like that every week? Your nipples tighten traitorously at the memory, but you are unsure your body could really handle it week after week. You were exhausted, overstimulated, half-dazed, and leaking for days. But the money... You saw your account the next day. Rent covered, groceries for weeks. Just from one night.

Your boss lets you think it through, but you know she wouldn't accept a blunt no. That's too much money to say no to it.

"What about the other girls?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Later. But I want you. The patrons want you." A smile curls on her lips, sharp teeth flashing. "You will be The Den's delicacy."

Delicacy... a dripping, leaking delicacy.

"Every two weeks," you say at last. "Fridays only. Special nights, as you said before. And I want Saturdays and Sundays off on those weeks."

The silence hangs tense for a second. The alien stares at you, all four eyes unblinking. "Every two weeks. Weekends off. And you drink without complaint. You perform. You let them see what a good little human you can be." She extends one long, bony hand across the desk. "Deal?"

_

You feel like a prey.

Your boss made sure the word spread: new specialty in The Den. Every other Friday. With you on the menu. And it shows. The bar is full. The tables are packed. Tentacles are draped over furniture, scaled tails flick on the floor, claws tap on the side of cool glasses, and wings flap by instinct every now and again.

Stares burn through your barely-there uniform the second you emerge from the back. The top is the same thin fabric as always, but tonight, you are especially aware of how it clings to you. It hides nothing from the prying eyes: glowing, slit-pupiled, compound, hungry. You feel them trace the curve of your breasts and linger on the faint outline of your nipples already pebbled from nerves and the low thrum of the bass. Your skin prickles under the weight of all the attention.

You try to focus on the tray in your hand, on the orders you are supposed to take, but every sway of your hips is followed by low murmurs and clicks of tongues.

You make your way to the bar and lean over the counter to call for the next round. The bartender, an older human man with greying beard and matching hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, is busy chatting up a small group of females a few feet from you. One of them laughs at something he says, and another reaches out to fix absolutely nothing on the collar of his shirt. The man just smirks and winks at them before turning to you.

You lift a knowing brow at him.

He shrugs. "What? You’re not the only popular one here."

The group giggles again, eyelashes flutter, wings, too.

He finishes loading your tray, and you are almost ready to run another round around the bar, when he turns back to you with a small shot glass in hand. The liquid is clear and shimmery under the colorful lights above.

"And this," he says, "is for you."

And just like that-

The moment the words leave his mouth, it’s like someone hit pause on the entire room.

The music still filters through the speakers, but the chatter dies quickly. Head turns. Eyes lock. Tentacles still. Even the women beside you go quiet. Now, instead of your co-worker, they watch you with curiosity.

The weight of it all presses down on your shoulders. Their anticipation breathes down the back of your neck.

Your stomach knots tight.

You can still change your mind. It's not too late. Yes, your boss would give you a hard time for a few weeks, but she would quickly find another human for the job, and you could continue serving the tables. The aliens wouldn't be happy either, but if they don't want to get banned, they would quickly shut their mouths about it. You can say no.

But do you want to?

With a deep inhale and a quiet cheers, you tip the glass back in one big gulp.

The liquid coats your tongue with honeyed sweetness, followed by a burn that warms you from the inside out. It spreads fast: first your throat, then your chest, and finally, it curls low and hot in your belly.

You slam the empty glass down with a loud thunk.

And the bar erupts.

Cheers and whistles drown out even your own thoughts for a long second. The music and the clinking of glasses disappear. Someone shouts something in a language you don't understand. A tentacle slaps down on the table, almost tipping it over.

The bartender leans in so you can hear him over the roar; "Have fun, and shout my name if you want it to stop."

Your breasts already feel heavier, though you aren't sure if it's not just your mind playing tricks on you.

With the tray back in your hand, you reply a quiet thanks.

It starts low in your stomach. A trembling warmth uncoiling. Slow and syrupy. Up your spine. Across your ribs. Between your legs and deep in your chest. Your pussy clenches in time with your heartbeat, thighs flexing for friction, and your nipples harden into aching points under your top. The material feels wrong now, too rough and too tight. It rubs over you with every step you take, and you can't help but scowl at the feeling.

You reach the first table with reptilians around. Their scales glint bronze under the lights, tails lashing lazily.

One of them leans back as you set down their drinks. His slit-pupiled eyes rake over you shamelessly. "I can already smell you."

His friends snicker and sniff the air.

You are not surprised. The others told you about the change in your scent because of the serum. You smelled sweet for days, made the aliens' mouths water and teeth ache.

As you straighten, a scaled hand brushes the back of your thigh, claws grazing just under the hem of your short skirt.

"Fuck, look how hard those nipples are," the one in the middle purrs with a wet click of his tongue. "Gonna leak for us soon, human?"

Without a reply, you move on. They are regulars, always up for some bantering, but right now, you can't focus enough to come up with anything. It doesn't even matter. They continue to laugh and stare anyway.

The change in your body is familiar from the first time, but still new and strange. Your chest is heavy. Your nipples throb in time with your pulse, so sensitive now that the slightest shift of fabric feels like a rough tongue dragging over them. You have to bite your tongue not to hiss. And the warmth in your stomach has turned to fire by now. Every touch leaves a trail of heat on your sweaty skin. Every comment sinks deep as they watch you unravel.

At least you are not panicking now. The last, and first, time, you had to beg one of your co-workers to look up if it's normal or if you are going to die or something.

Teasing touches follow you through the bar.

A smooth and cold one slides up between your legs, barely reaching the damp fabric of your panties, but you still sigh at the cool feeling he offers. When your thighs clench to keep it there, the alien laughs. Then another one slips to your ass, sneering when he pulls your underwear tighter, making you whine and bat his hand away.

"Gonna spread these cheeks later and watch that tight little hole wink while I stretch your pussy. You're gonna leak milk and cum all over the floor by the time we’re done."

"Don't worry, little human, I have enough cocks to fill your holes."

"Smells like she’s already in heat. I’m gonna make her black out on my suckers."

You are panting now. Open-mouthed.

A tentacle flicks your nipple. Claws pinch the other.

You make it back to the bar, but barely. Your legs are unsteady, and your body is buzzing. Your top clings to you in new ways; tiny damp spots form where your nipples leak the first beads. Your cheeks burn at the sight, and you have to grab the edge of the counter to keep yourself from massaging yourself, though you are sure the bar would appreciate it.

The bartender catches your eye, but says nothing. Just raises a brow with an infuriating smirk and takes the empty tray from your hands.

You are still catching your breath, fingers curling and loosening, when she steps up beside you.

She is lean and elegant with sharp lines and grace. No breasts, at least not the way humans have them. Her chest is a smooth, flat plate. She is completely bald, skin covered instead with intricate, swirling tattoos. Her eyes are huge, slowly blinking.

She tilts her head, gaze dropping immediately to your chest. "How does it feel?"

You swallow. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth. "It… it’s warm," you manage. "Heavy. Like they’re filling up too fast. Every little touch feels… too much. And it makes me-" You cut off, cheeks burning. "It makes everything else clench."

The alien blinks once. "May I touch you?"

You swallow again. Then nod. "Yes."

She is careful. Her touch is cool, too, on your fever-hot flesh even through your top. She squeezes at first as if testing the weight and the feel of it. Your nipple drags against her palm, and you bite back a whimper. Your back arches on its own, pushing you into her gentle hold. Her fingers spread wide, kneading the swollen curve. It sends a jolt straight down between your legs, and you press your thighs together instinctively. Slickness ruins your panties entirely.

She watches transfixed. "So full already." She looks... fascinated.

Behind you, the small group of alien women from earlier drifts closer.

One presses against your back. Her breath is warm on your neck as he peers over your shoulder. "Gods, look at them growing."

And she is right. Your tits grow. The soaked fabric of your top is now like a second skin on your body. It stretches over your chest, clinging.

The hand of the woman behind you comes around, cupping your other breast. She is less careful. Her fingers dig in, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger through your shirt, yet you sigh with relief. The pressure from both of them eases something deep inside, even though it winds you tighter at the same time, too.

"Fuck," someone hisses nearby, and another alien says something you don't understand.

"So soft," the one behind you coos over your shoulder, squeezing a bit harder.

The tattooed one nods in agreement, thumb circling your areola. "Such a good little human. So eager to give."

And fuck, the situation does something to you. Them, talking over your head while groping you in front of the whole bar. Your knees threaten to buckle. Every tug and slow knead sends fresh heat pooling low in your belly. It settles in your core and licks up through your veins. Your milk drips steadily now, and you are hyperaware of every breath you take. And the whole time, the women massage, giggle, and coo about how pretty you look and how sweet you smell.

Another alien steps up then. Another regular, though not a chatterer. You don't even know his name.

One side of his mouth is twisted from a jagged scar running from his chin, across his lips, up to the corner of his missing eye. The empty socket is shadowed under the bone of his brow.

Your breath catches as you stare up at him.

He just looms there for a few seconds until the women back away from you. Out of respect. Or fear. Or maybe they are just curious to see what happens next.

Now that there are no hands to hold your tits, they feel extra heavy.

Without a word, the scarred alien hooks one claw under the neckline of your top, and the material gives with a soft ripping sound. It flutters to the floor, forgotten before it reaches the ground.

Your breasts spill free, and whistles ripple through the crowd while the alien in front of you grunts low in his throat. Something rough and guttural that might be a fuck. His good eye drifts up to meet yours, then drops back to your bare, dripping tits. Milk beads at the tips in fat drops. And the male doesn't hesitate. No question asked. Just him latching onto your nipple with a wet, hungry sound. The suction hits hard and suddenly. You cry out, back arching as the pull of his lips shoots straight to your clit, and your milk fills his mouth.

But he is too tall. The angle is awkward. His head bent low, shoulders hunched, while you are almost on your tiptoes in an uncomfortable arch to offer him more.

He growls in frustration, your nipple still in his mouth, then grabs your waist with both of his huge hands and lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing. Your legs curl around his torso with a gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. You cling to him helplessly, thighs clamping tight on his sides.

Your breast presses into his greedy maw. Your milk flows freely now, so much so that it spills from the corners of his mouth when he swallows too slowly. You can hear the wet gulps and the vibration of his growls and grunts on your skin.

And you can feel the others watching.

"Can I take her home?"

"My mate would love a cow like her."

If your mind were less dizzy and your body less demanding, you would be embarrassed by this whole thing. But that ship has sailed. And there is no turning back. Not when your hips rock forward, trying to grind against anything that can give you some friction and release. But he is not here for your pleasure, you find out quickly. He is here to drink. Deep, greedy pulls while your pussy throbs with emptiness, soaked and aching and ignored. He simply doesn’t care. He just keeps sucking, one nipple then the other, like you’re nothing but a vessel to empty. To fill him instead.

Your head falls back. Eyes glassy with tears.

When he finally pulls off with a wet pop and puts you down, milk coats his scarred lips. Then, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grunts a thanks or maybe something entirely different.

"What an asshole!" you hear one of the women behind you, but there is laughter in her voice.

And you stay standing here, tits heavy, nipples raw and wet, and pussy throbbing with need he denied.

And the bar erupts again. The waves of it ripple down your spine.

The room is a sea of glowing eyes and shifting bodies. A tentacled patron in the corner has two slick limbs wrapped around his own cock. Or cocks, you can't be sure because of the shadows. At the nearest table, a reptilian couple has one of the other waitresses bent over. Top yanked down, skirt flipped up. One claws at her ass while the other laps at her exposed cunt. Some sip their drinks, eyes never leaving your dripping breasts, others lean forward, elbows on tables, cocks or slits already freed and glistening in the low light. Even the ones not touching anyone yet stare with open, shameless want.

This, this is familiar, too. The predatory stares, snarling mouths, and tense bodies. The way you can almost read their minds about what they want to do to you.

"Come here, cow. My cocks are already hard for you. Pick one. Or take both."

"Sit on my face first! Let me drink that cunt."

Someone growls from the back. "Climb on my lap, human. You can grind that dripping pussy on me before I fill you proper."

"Don't listen to them, love, my suckers will suck that swollen clit while you ride. You won’t even have to move. I’ll milk your cunt and those fat tits."

But your gaze catches on someone else. Scaled in deep emerald and black, ridges sharp along his shoulders and down his spine. He is sprawled on a chair like he owns the fucking place, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the seams of his pants. One hand rests on his knee while the other holds an almost-empty glass that he swirls absently before one last gulp. His eyes, slit-pupiled and burning gold, lock onto yours the second you look his way. He looks smug. Almost mean. The corner of his mouth curls in a slow smirk that shows just a hint of fangs.

He lifts his chin once. Come here.

Your legs move before your brain can catch up.

The serum has you so wound up that every step sends fresh wetness sliding down your inner thighs. The feeling is uncomfortable. This slickness. It reminds you how empty you are. And how full you are. Your bare tits bounce with every movement, and milk drips slowly and obscenely down your skin.

You feel like you are melting from the inside out.

The alien yanks you forward and pulls you down onto his lap with one smooth motion when you get close enough. Your thighs straddle one of his, and your soaked cunt presses hot against the rough texture of his pants.

"Easy, little cow," he coos, low and mocking.

Heat floods your face. Shame and need twist together until you can’t tell them apart. Your hips jerk forward on instinct, grinding slow circles on his thigh.

You are already so close it’s embarrassing.

He laughs under his breath while his hand slides up to cup you in his huge palm. The other reaches past you to grab his empty glass off the table to dangle it in front of you.

"Gonna fill this for me, aren't ya?"

The bar cheers around you again.

And the alien squeezes. You gasp at the rough motion while your milk splatters into the glass with wet little plinks. The sound echoes in your ears. Somewhere, shame and embarrassment burn in you, but with every pull, your clunt clenches harder, and you forget everything else. Your wetness soaks through his pants, marking him with your desperation.

The glass fills steadily, creamy liquid swirling at the bottom.

The crowd around you is restless, and when the alien under you lifts the half-full glass for everyone to see, holding it up like a trophy, the room roars.

He brings the glass to his lips. Gulps it down in long, greedy swallows, and sets the empty glass aside with a clink.

Then both hands clamp down on your hips.

Finally.

"Grind that dripping cunt on my thigh like the needy little human you are. Come on. Show everyone how bad you want to cream yourself in front of the whole bar."

It's toomuch

But notenough

Your swollen clit rubs over the rough texture of his trousers. You can feel his muscles tense and relax, leg jerks just enough to make your tits bounce with each roll of your hips.

"That’s it," he hisses, fingers digging into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider. "Look at you. Humping my leg like a bitch in heat. Bet you’d come just from me squeezing these fat udders again, wouldn’t you?"

You are a leaking, drooling mess. Your moans are high and frantic. The pressure coils tight in your core and-

snaps.

You come hard, thighs clamping around his, cunt spasming, slick gushing in a hot rush that soaks his pants completely. Your head falls back, mouth open around a silent scream, and your body shakes as wave after wave of pleasure rip through you.

By the time someone, a tentacle maybe, hauls you up onto a table, you are half-delirious. Drinks scatter around you, glasses tipping over in sticky spills. Your skirt is gone, panties ripped away in the chaos, and you are left bare and whining on the metal surface.

Aliens crowd around you. Close. Too close. Their warmth buzzes around you: hot breaths, snarky comments you don't understand, rough palms, slimy limbs. And you feel them everywhere: the press of bodies and the low growls.

"Drippin' like a broken faucet."

"Bet she’d take anything right now."

Tentacles snake out from the shadows. Ridged limbs glisten with clear ooze. They wrap around your wrists, your ankles, pinning you down to the table with firm, unyielding suction. You arch against them, but it's more like a reflex than an attempt to escape.

Because a tongue finds your pussy.

Long. Forked. It laps up from your entrance to your clit in one dragging stroke. You gasp, hips twitching for more, and it delves inside, probing and curling against every hidden spot that makes your vision blur. Your moan is sharp and high. The sound rips from your chest as the tongue flicks that bundle of nerves deep inside. It rubs and laps all over your pussy until stars burst behind your eyelids.

"Such soft little holes. Made for filling. Made for breeding."

"P-please-" You don’t even know what you are asking for.

Someone laughs. "Pathetic little cow can’t even wait for us to decide how we’re gonna use her next."

A hand strokes your cheek almost tenderly before cupping your chin and forcing your mouth open. "You love this, don’t you? Being spread out for the whole bar. Tits full, cunt ready to be filled, leaking everywhere. Say it."

Your lips tremble. Milk beads at your nipples, slow and thick, rolling down the sides of your breasts. "I… I do," you whimper, voice breaking on the admission. Shame burns hot in your chest, but it only makes your clit throb harder. "I love it."

Hands reach out, too. So many hands. They grope your tits, tug your nipples, and knead wherever they reach you.

A claw scrapes over your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse before settling firmly around. Another hand rubs over your lower lip, thumb pressing until you part for it. It pushes inside, and you suck, tongue swirling, teeth nibbling. Fangs graze your jaw. Lips follow. Up to your earlobe, then down your collarbone. The alien sucks bruises into your skin, and you tilt your head for more.

Fingers plunge inside you next. Two, three, thick and knobby, stretching your dripping cunt while another tongue keeps working your clit.

"Fuck… feel how hot she is inside."

"What does this do?"

Your cunt clamps down instantly. Laughter follows.

"Do it again. It makes her cunt tighten every time. See? Little human is trying to come just from being fingered."

"Try curling them up, yeah, like that."

They keep exploring; curling, twisting, pressing different spots while laughing about how your body flutters with another helpless arch and your pussy drools another gush of slick.

"Shit, she’s clenching so hard I can barely move."

At this point, your world is upside down. You are upside down. And it's everything. Scars rough under your grasping fingers. Scales scraping your inner thighs. Something drips down your ass, teasing the puckered hole there without entering.

Someone rubs your clit, and a cock, fat and veiny, thrusts deep into your pussy, filling you to the hilt with a wet squelch.

"First time trying a human," the alien rasps. "Gods, it’s sucking me in- Greedy little thing."

Laughter ripples through the crowd, mean and approving.

"Bet she’s never been this full. Listen to that wet noise."

The one inside you laughs, breathless as he tries to keep himself from coming too soon, hips rolling in a slow grind that drags every ridge over your G-spot. "Gonna breed this pretty cunt full. Fill her up until she’s leaking me for days."

And your voice gets lost in another orgasm.

"Take it," they growl, claws digging into your hips as they fuck you from one climax to the other. "Take every fucking inch, little human. This cunt belongs to us tonight."

You writhe on the table. Back arching. Tits still full and leaking.

Mouths close around your nipples, wet and hungry from different aliens. They drink you like you are the finest brew in the bar. And they knead you for more until their tongues and chins are drenched with you.

Praises float above your head in guttural tongues, coos that drip with humiliation and amusement.

"Fuck, look at her. Like a fucking feast."

"Bet she could come again just from us milking her dry."

"Pathetic, isn’t it? Cunt clenching around anything we give her. Like a bitch in heat."

One orgasm crashes into another. Hot, white sparks burst in front of your glassy eyes. Your veins are licked by pleasure, your pussy by aliens. You shake and moan, raw and ragged.

And they still don't stop.

Fingers grab harder. Tongues flick faster. Cocks pump deeper.

Someone pushes through the crowd every now and again. A co-worker maybe. They fight past the groping hands and twisting limbs to shove some water to your lips to keep you from passing out. You gulp it down blindly, spilling half over your chin and chest, then they are gone, swallowed back into the mass of bodies.

Someone new fucks you, tentacle or cock, you can’t tell anymore, slamming deep and rough until they pull out and cum hot across your belly in thick ropes that mix with the milk and slick already coating you.

They keep going. Keep draining you. Filling you.

Strong hands grab your shoulders. They sit you up slowly and carefully, like you are something fragile. Well, you are. Your head lolls back against a broad chest. You don't have the strength to hold yourself up. Then new hands join, gentler than before, but still greedy. Palms cup your breasts, coaxing more white beads to the surface until they drip in thin streams down your skin. Tongues follow their path. Long, forked ones drag up the wetness on your belly, rougher ones lick over your ribs. Something slimy trails up your thighs, tasting the slick there. Another mouth closes over your nipple, sucking in a soothing motion.

"Cunt’s still twitching. Bet she’d take another load if we asked nicely."

A low laugh. "Or not so nicely."

"Look at that hole," someone adds, but you can't be sure if he is the one prodding at your pussy. "So puffy."

"Can I get a human for home?"

"We are not pets, you idiot!" It's one of your co-workers, but her voice quickly disappears beneath all the laughter.

"Are you sure? This one looks like one to me."

"I would take care of her so well."

"Fucking her every day is not taking care of someone."

"I disagree."

You’re half-conscious, floating somewhere between awake and gone. It's overload. Bliss. Satisfaction so deep it borders on pain. Your skin tingles where they lick, where they scrape and curl around like they are afraid you will float away if they let go completely. A thumb rubs over your clit once, twice, making you whimper and jerk. Another hand squeezes your ass. They open your thighs again just enough to let the air kiss the messy heat between them. Fingers trace the drying cum on your belly, smearing it in idle patterns like they’re marking territory one last time.

You’re not sure how much time passes.

You think-

one weekend off is not enough

and

every two weeks is too much

too, too much

_

"I think that has to be… the dumbest thing I've ever heard," you sighed, shaking your head as your friend's posture deflated at your unenthusiastic response.

"I'm serious! The family even moved away because the haunting got too much. I'm talking, like… actual apparitions and stuff. Floating knives, disembodied voices… The whole package!"

Sensing that her impassioned speech wasn't enough to impress you, she crossed her arms over her chest and threw her head back with a groan. You almost felt bad for her, even though it was her idea to drive the two of you out here into the middle of nowhere.

But you quickly came back to your senses and shook off the little sting of guilt. After all, it wasn't your fault that you were a skeptic.

The place was nothing special, in your opinion, even though your friend definitely would've disagreed.

The previous inhabitants must've left in a rush, leaving behind entire sets of furniture and personal items to be layered with dust.

Upon first entering the place, you expected a lot more vandalism — Grafitti, broken windows, trashed rooms. But the house looked pretty unaffected, except for the first traces of time and nature.

It was sweltering outside and the old, abandoned farmhouse didn't offer any kind of solace from the heat that had crawled in through the cracks and rotten wood.

If you would've had your way, you'd be sitting at home in front of the AC, maybe enjoying some ice cream or a cold drink. Which you were actually doing before you'd been dragged out here for a "surprise adventure".

Now, the smell of dry grass and something musty was crawling into your nose, teasing at a sneeze that wouldn't come while you were stuck in an oven of a house and sweating like hell. What a trade-off.

"Sorry," you started, wiping your forehead, "this stuff just isn't really my cup of tea, you know? But I'm happy that you believe in it. You can do your thing, I'll just wait here."

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, your friend nodded and grabbed her "authentic" ghost hunting equipment to shuffle off and leave you standing in the kitchen.

It didn't take long until you heard the opening basement door and her descending steps.

As you rolled your stiff shoulders, you tried to come up with a way to pass the time and eventually settled on your phone. Easy dopamine be damned.

It was silent for a while as you scrolled through text posts and images, not really able to focus on anything in particular. The heat really was frying your brain.

Outside, the crickets were making plenty of noise in the unruly fields that surrounded the house, but the atmosphere felt peaceful while you leaned against the wall and silently did your thing.

A cold breeze suddenly lapped at the back of your neck, causing you to shiver despite the summer heat raging that day. Confused, you looked over your shoulder to spot a cracked-open window above one of the counters.

Huh, the family must've forgotten to close that as well when they fled— when they moved out.

God, you almost sounded like your friend there.

For a moment, you enjoyed the fresh air until the kitchen started to feel a little too cold and the nature outside fell silent.

Maybe the weather was about to change and a storm was brewing, or something. Deciding to keep the temperature bearable, you walked over to close the window.

The sun outside was already setting, bathing the kitchen in a warm, honey-tinted light as you had to get on your toes to reach over the spacious counter; perfect for cooking, but annoying when one tried to grab onto the window handle. Like you were.

"Maybe the layout of this damn house is what really chased out the tenants…" you grumbled under your breath, finally managing to slam the window shut before you straightened back up.

At least halfway.

Until your back met with something solid. Something that hadn't been there before.

Icy breath prickled across the shell of your ear, causing you to tremble against the form that now kept you pinned to the counter.

It didn't make sense. You didn't hear anyone enter; no steps, no rustling, yet you weren't alone anymore.

You could feel the blood drain from your face, how your mouth became dry and your heartbeat accelerated as the unseen weight kept you in place.

And that was before it started touching you.

Icy fingertips settled across the sides of your ribcage, wandering further towards your middle and barely grazing the undersides of your breasts.

Exploratory, curious. Almost playful as the touch briefly brushed down your sternum.

Slowly, they traveled even lower.

Across your stomach, down to your hips where they stayed. Settled. Steady.

In an effort to stifle a terrified noise, your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you dared to look down.

There was nothing. No hands, nothing even in the corner of your eyes.

But then, the fingers dug into your flesh, and your insides writhed at the sight of indentations on your skin and clothes. This was happening, someone unseen, hidden was gripping your hips so tightly that you could feel each individual fingertip pressing into your body.

The realization drew a quiet sound from you, an echo of fear and surprise that seemed to break the spell that had settled upon the previously quiet kitchen.

And once that spell was broken, everything seemed to happen at once.

The invisible hands tore at your shorts, greedily dragging the fabric down over your hips and ass along with your underwear before your neck was seized and you were roughly shoved over the counter.

Bent over and pinned into place, your lips parted to gasp for air, only to be choked by what felt like fingers pushing into your mouth. Your gums and teeth felt cold as something brushed over them, mapping out the inside of your mouth with an impatient audacity.

Then, the fingers pressed even deeper, collecting the saliva that pooled on your tongue as you gagged and tried to struggle.

But before you could entertain the thought of biting, they pulled back, bringing forth a strand of your spit that was still connected to the invisible digits.

Chest heaving, you barely got time to catch your breath before the slicked-up fingers dipped between your bare thighs and wasted no time before they slipped into you down to the invisible knuckles that now brushed against your skin.

A stifled gasp was the only noise that came out of you as the digits curled against the tight walls of your cunt. It was as if your voice had been stolen in that moment as you clawed and squirmed against the countertop while the fingers set a demanding rhythm in and out of you.

Something was trying to work you open. Something desperate, something hungry for a long-lost warmth.

More. More. Deeper. Hotter. MORE.

The grip on the back of your neck tightens, and the spectral digits pulled out of you before the hand settled back on your hip.

For a moment, it felt like the unseen touch trembled against you in an attempt at patience and restraint.

But then, you felt the cold, blunt nudge of something hefty against your cunt, rubbing through your folds to cover itself in the wetness that the being had managed to coax out of you.

Lips parting, your silent scream died in your throat as a silky length parted your folds and sank into your dripping heat in one agonizingly slow push.

The shiver that ran down your spine made your teeth chatter, and your knees trembled as the ghost held still inside of you.

It was cold, almost uncomfortably big as your pussy tried to adjust to the size of it.

Aside from the unusual temperature, it felt like a regular (albeit pretty large) cock, and as you gave it an experimental clench, you could feel it twitch inside you. A subtle movement that the hand on your hip mirrored as it tightened its grip on you.

You flinched when a sudden noise echoed up from underneath the floor. No doubt, your friend probably knocked something over in the basement. Meanwhile, you were stretched open around an invisible person that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere.

As if the specter realized that there was no time to be lost, it suddenly pulled out and slammed back into you with a force that knocked the air from your lungs.

Immediately, it set a frantic pace, fucking you against the counter with an intensity that caused your toes to curl in your shoes. You didn't have any chance to speak, to think, to squirm.

Voiceless, thoughtless and still pinned in place, the only sound you were allowed were little huffs and gasps – even as the shock and discomfort gave way to a pleasure that settled deep within your body.

There was no sound of skin against skin, but the feeling was there.

Corporal, but not quite. An echo of a person; of an appetite that had never been sated.

A lust that had lingered long past the flesh.

Embarrassingly, your body was pretty good at making sounds by itself.

The obscene wetness of your cunt being stuffed to the brim filled the kitchen with a chorus of squelching noises. And you could feel it too, coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down to pool on the old kitchen tiles.

Your eyes widened as more weight settled down on your back, completely pressing your upper body down onto the counter that you were digging your nails into.

With your torso squished under the being's phantom chest, it had free reign to move his cold hand from your neck to between your thighs where it pressed down on your pulsing clit.

Clenching your eyes shut, you let out an airy, barely-there whine as it began to draw tight, firm circles around that most sensitive spot at a pace that matched its hurried thrusts into your cunt.

No doubt, it wanted to get you off as quickly as possible, almost pressing down too hard as it rubbed your clit.

Your climax felt inevitable, buzzing at the base of your spine and tightening in the core of your body until the tension finally snapped, and you gasped against the kitchen counter.

Your legs shook, almost causing you to lose your footing as a thin line of drool connected your panting to the wooden surface.

Noticing your faltering stance, the unseen hands both grabbed your waist and hoisted you up until the tips of your shoes barely scraped against the floor.

Dangling, you could only barely hold on as the being resumed its hurried pounding into your still spasming cunt, fucking you through the afterglow of the spookiest orgasm of your life.

After a few more rough thrusts, its rhythm finally began to grow irregular and twitchy, and it pulled you flush against the icy, unseeable hardness of its body.

Pushing deep and holding still, you winced as ropes of cold, viscous release filled your poor cunt, leaking out around the ghostly cock.

After that, you were shoved back against the counter, and your underwear and shorts were yanked back up in an unceremonious attempt to make you look presentable again.

At once, the touch vanished, and suddenly, you knew you were alone once again.

The heat crept back into the kitchen all at once, the crickets outside were back to chirping in the tall grass, and the air felt less oppressive.

Yet you trembled as you sank down to the floor with still twitching thighs and labored breaths. You cringed at the sticky feeling of your skin and the cold wetness in your underwear.

"What the fuck..." you murmured under your breath, relieved when you found your voice again without difficulty.

Staring off into space for a long moment, you remained in place until you heard the sound of approaching steps from the basement.

Sure enough, it was your friend, looking more than a little disappointed.

I look around the sterile room, taking in framed stock images tastefully arranged along the walls and the stack of various medical pamphlets about STDs and safe sex. I take a deep breath and start to undress. I’ve waited so long to come see this doctor and I’m not going to let my nerves get the best of me now. The doctor I’m here to see is a specialist in anorgasmia, the inability to orgasm.

I’ve never been able to achieve orgasm, no matter what I’ve tried. Numerous partners have tried, I’ve purchased countless toys and lubricants, even going as far as trying hypnosis. Nothing has worked and I had almost given up hope when I’d stumbled across this doctor and his specialty.

It took months for me to get an appointment, and the screening process was incredibly intensive. Apparently, he’s extremely selective in the patients he chooses to see so when I got the call that he was willing to fit me into his schedule, I was ecstatic. Maybe I can finally say goodbye to my inability to orgasm.

A soft knock at the door startles me and I watch as the doctor opens the door and steps into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s younger than I thought he’d be. I’d been picturing a middle-aged man, maybe with some greying hair and glasses. Instead, he’s handsome, fit, and I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he greets me cheerfully.

“Good afternoon! I’m sorry for the wait but I hope you’re comfortable! It is lovely to meet you.” His voice is smooth, comforting, and when I extend my hand out to shake his outstretched one, his touch is gentle but strong.

I smile back at him, feeling some of my previous anxiety fade away. “No worries at all, I’m happy to be here.”

I watch as he opens grabs a chair and sits in front of the computer, logging in to pull up my medical chart. “Now, let’s see here, you’re here for anorgasmia I see.” I feel my cheeks flush at the clinical way he’d said it and he catches my blush as he glances up from the computer screen.

He gives me a comforting smile, “Don’t be embarrassed. A lot more women experience anorgasmia than people think, and it’s something that we can fix. I promise, there is nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

I give him a small smile back, the sincerity in his words soothing me.

“Now, I know you filled out a very long questionnaire already and I’ve already reviewed that so we’re going to get right to a physical exam to start.” He pushes away from the computer and stands up, walking over to where I’m sitting on the exam table.

“Can you take off your bra and underwear for me, please?” I nod, steeling my nerves before following his instructions. My nipples immediately harden into peaks at the cold air of the exam room and I feel so exposed with my entire body naked in front of him.

He unhooks stirrups from the bottom of the exam table and clicks them into place. “Prop your feet into there for me and spread your legs,” his voice is purely professional and I do what he asks. Placing my feet into the stirrups leaves me completely exposed and a small shiver goes through me as cold air brushes against my core.

“Now lean back and look up at the ceiling for me. We’re going to start with just a simple physical exam to make sure everything is normal anatomically. Then, we’ll move on to a few other tests for sensation and sensitivity. If at any point you have questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?” He looks at me with care and I nod back, feeling comforted by his words and clear attentiveness.

He rolls his chair to between my propped-up legs and takes a seat, facing me. “My hands are a little cold but don’t worry, we’ll warm up in no time.” I let out a gasp when his indeed cold hands come to rest on my thighs. His fingers are gentle as he brushes against my center, his movements confident as he pokes and prods around.

I stay still as I feel him gently pull me apart, letting cold air rush against my core and clit. I bite back a gasp at the sensation. I feel him press against my clit, maneuvering my clit hood out of the way to reveal the bud. A swipe of his finger against my exposed bundle of nerves makes me jolt and I let out a sharp gasp this time.

“Sorry! How did that feel?” He asks, his voice apologetic.

I take a second to gather myself before answering. “It felt intense. Good but almost a little overwhelming.”

“Hm, that’s good,” he says, “That means you have a fair amount of clitoral sensitivity. We’ll do a more in-depth examination later but it’s a good sign.”

I hear the scrape of his chair against the floor and glance up to see his standing. “I’m going to grab some lubricant and we’ll do an internal exam next.” I nod and watch as he squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers.

He settles himself back in between my legs and I shiver at the cold feeling of the lube. He’s purely professional as he spreads the lube over me and slowly works a single finger into me. I bite my lip to tamp down any sounds I want to make.

“I’m going to test your g-spot next,” he says and I feel his finger crook upwards inside of me, brushing against the spongy clump of nerves inside of me. The sensation shoots through me and I led out a slow breath.

“That’s it, you’re doing really well. Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” His fingers scissor inside of me and I let out a soft whimper. “Does that feel good?” His voice comes out in a lower register than before. “Come on, use your words. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me how it feels.”

I whimper again, “Mm yes, it feels good.”

“Good, so you have no problems with vaginal arousal and lubrication,” he says, his voice almost a purr now. “Don’t hold back, we want to make sure you’re giving your full reaction to everything that’s happening to help me understand what’s happening here.”

At his words, I let out another whimper, feeling the slow drag of his fingers against the sensitive walls of my pussy. He presses his fingers against my g-spot again and my back arches as pleasure shoots through me.

“Tell me, is this level of sensitivity and sensation reflective of how you normally feel during intercourse?” I take a second to catch my breath and think before I answer him.

“I think so, I’m usually pretty sensitive to sensation, it just never seems to culminate into an orgasm. A lot of times, I get too overstimulated to continue and I can’t cum.”

“Hm, I see,” his voice takes on a more contemplative tone. He pulls his fingers out of me, and I almost want to whimper at the loss.

“Well, I have a few theories but I’m going to do a more hands-on test to get a clearer answer of what we’re dealing with here. Lie back for me and relax.”

I lean my head back, staring up at the ceiling of the room and I feel him walk away for a second. He reappears at my side for a moment, and suddenly, I feel something encircle my wrist and hear a click. I jerk in surprise, glancing down to see that he’d cuffed me down to the table. My eyes meet his and smiles at me.

“Don’t worry, this is just to keep you still during the examination. The less movement there is from you, the easier it is for me to do my job. If at any point, you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” His words soothe the panic that rose up in my chest at the idea of being restrained and I give my consent. He smiles at me and makes quick work of clicking my other wrist into a cuff. Next, my ankles are strapped down to the stirrups and my thighs held apart by more cuffs. There’s even one that goes around my waist to keep my torso still.

“Good, how do you feel? Are any of the restraints hurting you?”

I shake my head in response, “No, I’m okay.”

He smiles at me again and I watch him open a drawer from across the exam room. “We’re going to introduce some equipment to help me get a better gauge of what we’re dealing with here.” My eyes widen as I watch him pull out several industrial looking sex toys.

“Let’s start with clitoral stimulation,” he says, setting down the toys except for one. He shows me the toy, it looks almost like an electric toothbrush with a wider body and a very thin head. “This is a very precise vibrator. Most commercial vibrators people tend to purchase have a much larger surface area, which can be very good for folks who are highly sensitive in all areas, but it doesn’t offer much precision in targeting specific parts of the clitoris. This one doesn’t have that problem since it has a much smaller head. Now this one is also pre-set to have 10 very well-calibrated intensity settings. Depending on your reaction to each setting, I can make better conclusions about your clitoral sensitivity. We’re going to go through the settings from low to high and I want you to continue to be vocal and tell me what you’re feeling, okay?”

I nod, “Okay, but what if I get too overstimulated?”

He gives me a comforting smile, “Just tell me and we’ll stop and re-evaluate if it happens.”

I nod again and he sits back down between my legs to get started.

I hear the toy click on, presumably at the first level based on the low, quiet buzzing sound its emitting. I gasp when I feel his fingers gently pull my pussy apart to reveal my clit, already erect and throbbing from his earlier treatment.

A moan escapes from my throat when I feel the toy make first contact. It feels so much more intense than any other toy I’ve ever had. The precision of the toy and the ease in which he handles it means that the vibrations are pressed right against my exposed clit, forcing the collection of raw nerves to submit to the sensations.

“How’s that?” He asks, his voice making me scramble to get ahold of myself to give a coherent response. “It feels so intense but in a good way.”

“Good, that’s good. Just relax and let yourself feel.” He murmurs, keeping the vibrator pressed tightly against me.

My eyes drift shut as I feel the sensation overtake me. The pleasure is forming a haze around my mind, every thought getting chased away by the feeling between my legs.

I hear his voice again, “I’m going to increase to the second setting. Just stay relaxed for me.”

I let out a whimper in response as the toy clicks up a level. The pleasure intensifies but there’s also a building sensation of raw overstimulation that is starting to arise. We’re nearing the point where I would normally stop and take a break but I don’t want to tell him that yet. I want to let him keep going, because maybe today is the day I finally get to cum.

I bite back a whine and clench my fists at my sides.

“Increasing to level 3 now.” He says, resting a hand on my thigh as his other one holds the toy firmly against me. The increase this time makes a cry rip out of me and my eyes fly open to meet his.

“Ah- it’s so much, I’m getting overstimulated.” I whimper out, my hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to control myself. He nods but doesn’t make any move to pull the toy away or decrease the setting.

“Try and tough it out for me for a bit more, I want to see if we can overcome the overstimulation.” He gives me a comforting smile and gently pats my thigh.

I take a deep breath and nod, letting my eyes drift shut.

“Increasing to level 4 now,” he says and the vibrator switches to a higher intensity before I can protest.

“Wait! Wait, please, just give me a moment, please!” I gasp out as the sensations shoot through me entire body. He shakes his head, “You’re doing great, just relax and let it happen.”

I whine as tears are gathering in my eyes. I’m walking the very thin line of pain and pleasure as the vibrator forces breathtaking feeling onto me while riding my nerves to the sharp edges of overstimulation. I hear his voice again and my heart drops when I register his words. “Increasing to level 5.”

A scream bursts out of me as all of the sensations compound and increase. It’s too much, I can’t do this. I can’t tell if I’m close to cumming, I just know that I’ve been absolutely thrown over my threshold for sensation and I can’t take anymore. I sob out my begs to my doctor.

“Please! No more, please stop! STOP! It’s too much! I can’t take it!” My body is shaking and I’m fighting with everything I have against the restraints but nothing gives. His hand on my thigh has turned into an iron grip, holding me down so I can’t even shift my hips to escape the relentlessly accurate vibrations.

“PLEASE! STOP!” I sob. There’s nothing to save me. He doesn’t listen, he might’ve said something to me but I’m too far gone to hear. All I know is the torturous pleasure dominating every single nerve of my body.

Beneath the horrible overstimulation, I feel a warm thread of something else. Something pulsing through my body, filling me with pure pleasure. I whimper as the feeling starts to build, my every muscle seeming to tighten in response to it.

There’s a knot building in my stomach, spreading throughout my body. Coupled with the overstimulation, I feel ravaged and decimated, every nerve pulled bare and shocked by the live wire of sensation that’s forced upon me. Before I can even begin to articulate it, I feel the vibrator kick up another setting and I scream as it shatters me.

I cum. For the first time in my life, I cum. My scream seems to shake the very foundation of the building we’re in as the pleasure, pain, and sensation flood my body, every cell of my body bursting with it. I can’t do anything except ride the relentless wave of pleasure, my entire body a slave to the whims of that horrible, terrible, delicious, mind-altering pleasure.

I slowly come down from the high of my first orgasm, gasps shaking my body as my mind struggles to reengage with reality. I blink tears out of my eyes, and I look up to see my doctor standing over me, holding the toy that he’s mercifully removed from my clit.

“Good job, sweet girl,” he purrs, running his hand up my thigh to cup my pussy gently. The soft motion is enough to make me whimper. “How did that feel, darling?” The terms of endearment make me pause but I’m too hazy to really digest it all.

I clear my throat and swallow, my voice raw from the screaming and begging. “I- It felt really good but it was so much,” I whisper, “I don’t know if I can do that again.”

He smirks and suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of uncertainty. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there previously and it makes me nervous. Something about the way he is looking at me is so different now than earlier, with his cool professionalism and niceties. Now, I feel like a specimen under a microscope and he, the scientist who plans on dissecting me.

“I think, I think I need a break. Can we finish this appointment another time?” I murmur, pulling slightly at my restraints and looking at him.

He lets out a low laugh that makes my skin pebble with nerves. “Oh no, now that I know what the problem is, I can’t let you leave until we fix it. What kind of doctor would I be if I let my patients leave without being cured?”

I shake my head, “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You made me cum, doesn’t that mean I’m cured?”

He smirks at me and he slides a finger into my pussy, making me gasp. “Not at all, we’ve proven that you indeed can orgasm, but there is still much to be examined in terms of the extent of your orgasms. Plus, we have several more levels of this vibrator to get through and we haven’t even begun to work on your pussy and g-spot yet.”

My eyes widen at his words and the curling feeling of fear truly takes root inside of me. “Wait no, please, I don’t want to continue with any of that anymore. Please, just let me go!”

The look on his face is one of glee as he sees my terror become apparent. “Now now, you don’t want to leave against my medical advice, do you? Plus, darling, you consented to following through with my professional recommendations when you signed up to be a patient. There’s no backing out of this now. And especially when I know how sensitive of a whore you are, darling.” He chuckles.

I whimper, “Please, no, I don’t want this.”

He bends down to lean in close to me. “Well, I don’t give a shit about what you want. You are the most unique case of sensitivity I’ve ever seen, and I plan to take full advantage of that while I have you here. So be a good girl for me and enjoy this.” He presses his lips to the side of my neck and the feeling makes me tremble.

He ignores the rest of my protests and goes back to sitting between my legs. I watch in fear as he holds up the vibrator and clicks it on. “We stopped at level 6 last time, that’s where we’ll resume. And scream all you want, sweet girl, these walls are soundproof and won’t let a speck of sound through.”

I do indeed scream when he presses the vibrator against me again.

This time, there’s no build up of pleasure or stimulation. It all slams into me all at once and I writhe against my restraints as everything overwhelms me. I vaguely hear a low laugh permeate the space around me but I can’t focus enough to pick out any other noise amidst my own sobs.

My doctor stops giving me any verbal cues, not that I’m coherent enough to even understand at this point. All I know is the punishing vibrator held against my clit, ravaging my body and turning me inside out. The claws of pleasure are embedded deep into my psyche and my body is at its complete whim.

I have no idea how much time has passed or whether I even stayed conscious for the entire duration of the torture but eventually, I realize that he’s stopped. The vibrator is off but my body was still shaking from phantom sensations, every inhale of air a sharp stab, and every sob a reminder of how broken I am.

Slowly, I register the sound of his low laugh. I whimper as I blink away my tears to look at him. “You, my sweet girl, are truly remarkable. I don’t think you realize since you were so out of it, but we were at the highest setting for the past ten minutes and you didn’t even cum once. I’ve never come across someone so fucking sensitive and yet so resistant to orgasm. It’s incredible because you don’t seem to become desensitized either.”

I whimper and my voice cracks when I speak. “Please, please, just let me go. I can’t handle any more. I won’t tell anyone about this, please just stop doing this.”

He smiles at me and for a brief moment, I see the professional, nice, kind, good doctor from earlier. But all my hope is washed away when I feel his fingers press against my core again.

“I can’t do that, darling. We still have your precious pussy left to work on,” his voice is filled with excitement and it makes me want to cry because I know what is coming next and I’m not sure I will survive.

I watch him exchange the vibrator for a huge dildo. He smirks and presses a button on the underside of it and the entire thing begins to vibrate. “I think we can go ahead and skip to the higher settings here.”

Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head at him as pleas fall from my lips. He ignores me as he lines the dildo up with my core. I tremble as the vibrations make me shudder without the toy even breaching me yet.

He catches my eye and I watch as he gives me a wink and proceeds to slam the dildo home inside of me. I arch my back and let out a devastated cry. The toy fills me to the brim, the vibrations ravaging my sensitive walls and my g-spot in a way that makes my eyes roll back.

I’m sobbing and shaking as he drives the dildo in and out of my pussy. Every movement against my overstimulated walls tortures me. The pleasure digs its claws into me and drags me back into its embrace. My entire being submits and I feel my mind’s grasp on my sanity loosen as every single facet of my existence narrows to pleasure.

Each thrust seems to make my sensitivity grow, every single muscle in my body aching and begging for relief. I feel his hand clamp down on my thigh as the other continues to work the dildo inside of me. I want to rip myself out of my body to make this torture end but there’s nothing I can do. Every push and pull shoves my body higher and higher to a peak that I can never seem to reach. There’s no culminating release of pleasure to make this all better, no soft wash of an orgasm to soothe every jagged nerve. There’s only him and the torturous pleasure he imparts onto my very soul.

An unfathomable amount of time later, I feel him finally turn off the toy and pull it out of me. I barely register the lewd sound of my cunt clenching around the toy, my pussy still weeping with arousal even after the devastation he brought upon me.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please, are we done? Please, I can’t take anymore, please let me go.”

He brushes my hair off my forehead and he smirks at me. “Oh, sweet girl, I can’t let you go now. I’m going to be keeping you as my perfect little toy. There are still so many other things I want to try on you. I’m going to push every single limit you have until you break for me.” A soft whine escapes from me and I know there is nothing I can do to convince him otherwise. My head lolls from exhaustion and I feel my grasp on consciousness start to loosen.