Domesticating the Fucktoy

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.

Domesticating The Fucktoy Pt. 1

Synopsis: An average girl is humiliated by corrupt cops and made to do unspeakable things.

— ----

“Ok then bitch. You may swallow.” Just as she started to gulp down the man cream, Ryan flung his belt straight up behind her between her legs, the rough leather snapping with a Crack! right onto her delicate pussy.

“*gulp! AHH! *Cough” NGHHH!! o-oh my-*cough-gawd!!!” Throat convulsing, Chelsea fell over onto her side and clutched at her sex, while she spluttered and choked on the cum, trying her best to keep it in her stomach. Her pussy burned and a nice red stripe angrily colored her soft sex lips. Why did he hit her?!

— -----Earlier that day-----

“This is going to be a piece of cake.”

It was the dead of winter in Pittsburgh, and a lone squad car coasted down the rundown street heading towards a large warehouse. It was early Friday afternoon, and officers Mike and Ryan were in high spirits. Joking with each other and laughing, the two corrupt cops pulled into the warehouse's large parking lot.

Inside, Chelsea McKinley, a pretty young thing, was taping up a box for shipment. Fresh out of high school, Chelsea hoped she could work for a year or two and save up to go to college, but the economy was not great. No one would hire someone with no work experience, and only by some miracle did she manage to convince the manager here to give her a shot.

She thought the man had some sympathy for her, but really he just hoped to fuck her. She only cost him minimum wage, and if she didn't put out he'd find a reason to fire her. She was just finishing up her first week.

Chelsea was dressed in casual, winter work clothes; a yellow coat over a white tshirt, blue jeans, and a baby blue ball cap. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail, through the cap, and she absent-mindedly wiped the sweat from her brow, pushing some dangling blonde strands from her face as she worked. Though the warehouse was chilly and drafty in winter, she could still work up a bit of a sweat moving around some of the larger boxes.

Officers Mike and Ryan made their way up the slippery steps and entered the warehouse. Seeing the two officers waiting politely at the door, one of the workers went to the office to get Harry, the manager.

Looking flustered and confused, Harry, a thin greasy looking man, greeted them.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

“Yes, I'm Officer Ryan and this is Officer Mike, we're with Pittsburgh PD. Are you the manager in charge?”

“Yes, I am, I'm Harry Rumsfield. Is there a problem I can help you with?”

“We are looking for Chelsea McKinley, she may have some involvement with a crime and we need to ask her a few questions.”

Harry stiffened. Damn that girl, she was already proving to be too much trouble.

“I see. What did she do?”

Ryan looked hesitant. “We can't go into details, but she is suspected of grand theft and the sale of illegal substances.” Great. A thief and a dealer. Harry frowned.

“Oh. Well, I will bring her of course. We have a conference room next to the office, would you like to speak to her there?”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Harry escorted the men to a small meeting room, which contained a whiteboard and a rectangular table with chairs. The table and chairs were made of cheap metal, and looked rusty in places. Before excusing himself to get Chelsea, Harry turned on a baseboard heater to warm the room up. Ryan and Mike glanced around, looking for any cameras. There were none.

After a few minutes wait, the door opened again, and Chelsea entered the room backed by Harry. She looked startled, her brow wrinkling slightly, not expecting to see cops. Harry had not told her why he wanted to speak to her, he was afraid she might make a run for it.

“What is this, Harry?” She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, and he gently pushed her in and closed the door.

“These men are with the police and are here to see you.”

Ryan's cold eyes ran up and down her body, seemingly appraising her worth. They swept down over the curves of her hips, down her legs, then back up again. She felt a small chill run down her spine as his piercing eyes lingered just a moment longer on the swell of her breasts, then finally settled on her face. The bitch was cute, hotter than her picture.

“You took your time, Miss McKinley.” Mike stated in an annoyed voice. “We're investigating a series of crimes and need to ask you a few questions.”

“Oh, o-okay” Chelsea answered apprehensively. She didn't do anything wrong, but being questioned by cops just made her nervous. How did she figure into any of this? And why did they seem so hostile?

“If you don't mind Mr. Rumsfield, we will need to question her in private. Thank you for allowing us to use this room, it saves us the trouble of having to bring her in.” Bring her in?! Chelsea's mind started working furiously. What was this about?

“All right then. I'll be in the office next door.” Harry looked a bit annoyed, but agreed. He had already decided Chelsea would no longer be working here; anyone who brought cops to the workplace during their first week, for whatever reason, was an employee he did not want. As he left the room, Ryan strode towards the single window looking out at the warehouse floor and closed the blinds. Locking the door and standing in front of it, he turned to address the little blonde tart.

“Sit down!”

Fidgeting nervously, Chelsea pulled out a rusty metal chair and sat at the table, facing the men. She picked at her nails nervously.

“We have your brother in custody.”

Chelsea groaned to herself. Her older brother Andy, in his 30s, had been getting into trouble for as long as she could remember. After their parents had died, Andy tried to take care of his little sister but always fell short. Now he was a drunk and practically lived on drugs, and she hadn't seen him in 2 months. He did call occasionally, always promising to do better.

“Oh no. What has he-” she began.

“He was apprehended attempting to steal a car.” barked Mike, interrupting her.

This was true. Andy had been trying to force his way into a parked car when, as luck would have it, the two most corrupt cops in Pittsburgh rolled up and caught him in the act. He had the unwashed reek of a desperate man, and after handcuffing him and searching his person, they found his nearly empty wallet. A wrinkled photo of Andy and Chelsea was shoved into the billfold – and after questioning him they determined the bright eyed, curvy girl was his sister.

What they would not tell Chelsea now was that they did not bring her brother in, or report the crime. Seeing a golden opportunity, they simply locked him up in Mike's basement, while they questioned him on his sister.

And now, here they were.

“Is he ok?” she asked. “Where is he?”

“We are asking the questions Chelsea” snapped Ryan, dropping the polite use of her last name. “He had quite a bit to say about you. We know that you both collaborate and steal cars together, ” her eyes widened, “and we know all about the opioids you've been selling too.”

“N-no, it's not true! I haven't done any of those things!”

“We are officers of the law! The LAW. Do you understand? You will call us Sir or Officer!”

Being young, Chelsea was horribly naive of the world and didn't ask for a lawyer, or note that no evidence was backing up these accusations. Instead, she just spluttered and panicked.

“But sir, please! I'm telling you, we don't do those things, I swear! There's been a mistake-”

“Do not LIE to us!!” roared Mike, slamming his fist down on the table and making her jump. “There's only one way for you to help your brother, and yourself. You will answer all our questions, and you will cooperate with us. Do that, and we MAY be able to release your brother.”

“If you don't help us-” picked up Ryan “we will have to bring you in. It will be jail for you while we sort through this mess. Your brother already has a criminal record; his sentence will be long. I doubt you'd even see him again. You can go to jail, or help us. Jail. Or help us. Those are your choices.”

“No! I'll help you, really! I'm innocent, please!” Chelsea was nearly in hysterics. Her brother was a good guy, she knew he got into a lot of trouble but he would never harm anyone and he loved her. She didn't want him to get locked away. Ryan walked around the room and shut off the heater, letting the air begin to cool again.

“You would be locked up maybe 20 years. The dykes would love you. You'd be walking bow-legged the rest of your life” Mike sneered at her nastily. “I suggest you help us if you want to avoid that.”

“I-I...please, I will cooperate Sir.” she said in a small voice, dismayed at his words.

“We shall see. When did you first start selling drugs?”

“I don't sell drugs sir! I don't know anything about-”

“So that's how it's going to be huh? STAND UP! Feet apart, hands on your head!” Ryan shouted at her, and she quickly rose to her feet, tentatively raising her hands to her head.

“Don't fucking move.” tears formed in the corner of her eyes as the two men grabbed at her, running their big hands over her body. “We will see if you are hiding any drugs on you.”

“I-I'm-”

“SHUT UP!” Grabbing her ponytail, Ryan pulls her head back as their hands run down her sides and legs. Mike crouched down and patted around her legs, his fingers lingering and rubbing on her inner thighs and briefly over her crotch, pressing firmly.

“Ahh! S-stop! I don't have anything!”

With his free hand, Ryan felt around her armpits and shoulders, and ran his hand over her breasts, cupping them and lifting gently. Feeling nothing out of the ordinary, he releases her hair and shoves her away a few feet.

“We didn't find anything but they could be concealed in your clothing. Remove your jacket and cap.”

“No! You can't just-”

“No? Let me get this straight” drawled Ryan. “You claim to be innocent but won't even let us search you for drugs. I guess we'd better just haul you in then.”

“W-wait! No! I'll cooperate! Wait!” with unsteady hands, she quickly pulled her baseball cap off her head, releasing her hair. Next up, she pulled the zipper down her yellow jacket, and her t-shirt clad boobs came to greater prominence. Mike grinned at her, not even bothering trying to hide his enjoyment as he stared at the generous swells, swaying slightly as she pulled her arms through the jacket and set it on the table.

Ryan picked it up and made a show of rummaging through the pockets, feeling along the inner lining. Quickly glancing inside her discarded ball cap, he tossed it back onto the table.

“Shoes and top next. Hurry up.”

“Do I really have to?” she asked in a small voice. Seeing them glare at her in anger, she sat down again and pulled her shoes and socks off, one at a time, as Mike peered into them. Standing back up, she blushed deeply as she started to roll her white shirt up over her head. A white bra encasing her tits dropped down into view, as her mouthwatering cleavage did a little shimmy. She set her shirt on the table and tried to cover her bra with her hands.

“Hands down! This is a search you idiot girl, you can't be searched if you cover up!”

“S-sorry!” she shakily drops her hands.

“Not bad. I've always preferred girls with a nice bust. These are definitely a nice handful, don't you think, Mike?”

“She's okay I guess” lied Mike, thinking she was gorgeous. “I've seen better, they look firm though. Pants! Now! We haven't got all day!”

Chelsea was appalled at their banter, they were talking about her like she wasn't even there! Steeling herself, she undid the button on her jeans and pushed them down over her hips, working them off her legs. A pair of pink bikini bottom panties came into view, her mismatched underwear testament to the unexpectedness of the day's events.

She stood straight back up again and blushed deeply as they eyed her up and down. Riffling through her shirt and pants, Ryan found no items on her at all.

“Where's your phone? Do you keep a purse?”

“Y-yes, it's at my station...”

“We will need to search it. Mike will get it. What color is it?”

“blue, it's all the way in the back, under the shipping desk.”

“We need to search your car too.”

“I don't have one, um, officer. I take the bus to work...” she shifted uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious.

Mike turned and left the room, off to retrieve the offending item and throw it in the squad car. He had no intention of letting the bitch make a phone call.

Chelsea watched him leave the room, and as soon as the door shut Ryan grabbed her by her hair again. He roughly yanked the hair tie from her ponytail, and re-gripped her blonde locks more savagely. The pain in her scalp made her wince and blink back tears, and Ryan slammed her into the window blinds, pushing her forward into the window.

Her firm breastflesh, still hiding behind her bra, smashed up on the cheap and flimsy blinds, bending them open slightly. She was sure her co-workers could see! She pushed back against the blinds with her hands, trying to get free, messing them up more.

“Stop! What are you doi—ahh ouch!” Ryan had leaned into her with his shoulder, crushing her breasts into the unforgiving glass. Pinning her, he ran his free hand down between her ass cheeks, continuing between her thighs along the groove of her slit.

“We'll continue” Ryan grunted, forcing the squirming girl harder into the window. On the other side, Ricardo, an employee that ran the order picker, stared. It looked like the top third of a pair of bra cups was crushed flat against the window glass, squirming cleavage slightly visible above. And were those hands? Was he seeing that right?

Officer Mike saw the man staring and strode over to talk to him. Best to make sure he wouldn't talk about what he just saw.

Back in the conference room, Ryan continued to check her for drugs. Rubbing her pussy through her panties for way longer than necessary, he moved his hand up and slipped his fingers underneath the waist band. He felt each full ass cheek in turn, squeezing possessively.

Slap!

Satisfied, he gave her ass a hard slap while she cried, and he moved his face near her ear smelling her hair.

“Why are you doing this? Let me go!”

He slides his hand around to the front, under the waistband, and she starts fighting to get away.

The door opened again as Mike returned, his brow furrowing seeing her struggles. He ran over to help Ryan hold her still.

“Stop resisting, you stupid bitch!” *Slap! *Slap! Pulling her away from the window, Mike slapped her face hard twice while Ryan held her arms from behind. Chelsea saw stars as she blinked stupidly, momentarily dazed by the blows, her head snapping neatly to the left and right.

“So much for cooperation! We're bringing you in!” Pulling out their handcuffs, they quickly cuffed her wrists behind her back, as well as her ankles, hobbling her. They force marched her out the door, one officer grasping each of her arms behind her back.

Chelsea blushed even more deeply, all her new coworkers were staring at her in her underwear!

“I-I'm sorry, please, I'll cooperate, I-I'm s-sorry!” she cried pathetically as they practically dragged her to the door, her little hobbled steps not letting her keep up. As they passed Ricardo, the man nodded and smiled, barely restraining himself from showing his glee. He had struck an agreement with Mike, and he couldn't wait for tomorrow.

It was still early afternoon when they dragged her out into the cold winter weather outside. Her nipples instantly reacted to the frigid air, poking painfully hard into her bra cups, and her flesh all over flushed with goosebumps. They slammed her onto the hood of their squad car while Mike held her down, and pulling out a black blindfold, they quickly tied it around her head. Ryan opened the rear door. They unceremoniously threw her in the back, and started their drive to the 'station.' Unfortunately for Chelsea, the station was Mike's basement.

— ------------------------

A 20 minute drive later, a shivering Chelsea was finally pulled out of the squad car. They had cracked the rear windows and shut off the heat, letting her freeze her nearly naked ass off. Stopping at Ryan's house halfway, they pulled her from the car and pushed her face down into the snow.

*Thud! “Ugh!”

A heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades, pinning her and making her exhale sharply.

Turning on his garden hose, Ryan sprayed the flailing girl down with the freezing water.

“*Gasp! OOOOHH” she felt her heart leap into her throat as the cold hit her. He sprayed down her entire backside and lifted his boot. She rolled over, trying to get to her feet, but this only let Ryan generously spray down her glass-cutting chest and gasping face as well.

“N-nn-nn-o stsssstttop!” They threw her back into the car, and resumed their drive to Mike's house. Of course, they still left the windows cracked open, the soaking girl curled up in the back seat trying to find warmth. As they drove, her soaked bra and panties wetly clung to her in the freezing air, a small amount of frost forming on the edges. Her poor nipples didn't have a chance.

30 minutes later, the blindfolded girl once again found herself flying through the air, landing with a thud onto the frozen ground.

“Welcome to the station bitch. Let's get you processed.”

“P-please, s-s-so c-cold, there's n-no n-need for t-this! I'll do a-anything y-y-you w-want!” her teeth chattered violently behind her blue tinged lips. She was in serious danger now, they had better hurry up and get her inside.

They marched the unfortunate girl through the front door, and blissful heat washed over Chelsea. Her teeth still chattering madly, she found herself guided down a set of stairs, down and down, until finally they stopped their descent and slammed her ass onto a stool. Her blindfold was ripped off her face.

She squinted, grimacing, into the bright light, unable to see. Three bright interrogation lights were aimed right at her face, and the frightened, shivering girl hugged her knees as she sat on the cold metal stool. She couldn't make out her dark surroundings at all. At least the air was simply chilly and not freezing, her flesh gratefully accepting the new warmth.

Mike's voice came to her from the darkness. “This is one of the station's interrogation rooms. You've been brought here because you are combative, uncooperative, and hindering a police investigation.” Stepping forward, she could make out his shape. He laughed to himself at the ignorant girl, she had no idea how benign a real police station actually was.

Scared out of her wits, she began to babble. “No no no I will cooperate really-!”

“Shut up!”

“I'm sorry I'm sorry please just let me and my brother go please I-”

*Smack! “Owww!” She stopped rambling when Ryan walked up behind her and cuffed her on the head. She looked back at him miserably and choked back a sob.

“Better. You will learn to talk less, I promise you.”

“We are feeling generous.” drawled Mike. “We will give you one last chance to help us. Is that something you'd like to do?”

She stared at him with hateful eyes, but nodded vigorously.

“Well then. Kindly stand.”

Rising up on unsteady feet, Chelsea looked like a deer in headlights, the bright spotlights making her the glowing attraction of the room. She still couldn't see more than 4 feet in front of her.

“Remove your bra and panties while we ask you some more questions. We still haven't searched you completely.”

“I-...Y-yes sir.” she said quietly. She had never heard of police being this violent or brutal. Was this normal treatment for criminals? Why wouldn't they believe she was innocent!? She had to cooperate, maybe then they would see she wasn't a criminal and be nicer to her.

They release her handcuffs, and she tenderly rubbed her wrists. Eyeing Mike warily in front of her, she reached behind and unclasped her bra, holding the cups to her tits. Mortified, her face flushing red, she slightly bit her lower lip nervously and pulled the bra away, exposing her jiggling titflesh to their hungry eyes. Her pink, hard nipples stuck out, begging to be pinched.

*Whistle “Those are a whore's tits if I ever saw 'em.”

Flushing angrily, she started to protest. “I-I'm not a whore!”

Ryan waved his hand dismissively. “The panties next, whore. Don't piss us off.”

She didn't like how he talked to her, or how he touched her before, but she felt like he had power over what would happen to her and her brother so kept quiet. Maybe now that the other officer was present he wouldn't be so handsy. She gripped her waistband and started to slide them down. “Stop! Turn around and bend over.” Humiliation washed over her, but she did as she was told. “Good, arch your back a little. Now pull them down. Slowly.”

Sliding the cotton bikini bottoms down her slender legs, her pouting pussy came into view, the lips tightly pinched closed by her thighs. Straightening back up, she kicked her panties aside.

“Turn around again. Spread your legs. Good.” They simply looked at her for a good long minute, intending to embarrass her.

“There could be bags taped under those titties. Or up inside her. Well bitch, are you hiding anything?”

“I'm not a bitch!! And no!” she protested. “For God's sake, I'm naked!”

“One way to find out. Start doing jumping jacks. Don't stop until I tell you.” Ryan commanded sternly. She stared at him, then remembered the thin ice she was on already. Swallowing her pride, embarrassed beyond belief, she meekly started doing half-assed jumping jacks.

“What the fuck is that?!” Mike boomed. “Extend all the way! Put some energy into it, God damn it girl!”

Tits flopping heavily, Chelsea redoubled her efforts, spreading her legs and arms into a perfect airborne star again and again. Her heavy chest was determined to punish itself this time, slamming down over and over on her ribs, the funbags achingly protesting more and more.

10, 11, 12, 13

On and on she jumped, her body quickly warming up now. Ryan squatted down and peered at her pussy, seeing if any bags had worked themselves free. Mike for his part watched her tits, mesmerized by the rhythmic bouncing and jiggling.

35, 36, 37

They let her keep going, ostensibly to see if anything would work itself free. At one point she grabbed her breasts for support.

“Hands off! NOW!” Ryan screamed in her flinching face. “The fuck do you think you're doing? Is that a jumping jack?”

“I'm sorry!” she released her poor titties and groaned as they resumed their punishing dance.

50, 51, 52

“Keep going, Chelsea. We'll let you know when you've been thorough enough.”

“Y-yes Sir. *gasp” *gasp

88, 89

*wheezing “Officer, please. *gasp Can I stop?” Her sore breasts throbbed relentlessly, becoming two bags of liquid ache on her chest, as she fought to keep her breath.

“I was about to let you but now you get another 30. Keep going.”

118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123

“Stop!” Breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat, Chelsea stopped her exercise.

“See, I don't have any drugs!” she wheezed.

“On your ass. Now. Spread your legs and pull those pussy lips open. There better be nothing there.”

Flushed with exertion and embarrassment, the girl sat down on the floor and spread her legs shoulder width apart.

“Wider!” Mike kicked her feet apart further, exposing her tender quim to their gaze. Timidly, she reached down around her legs and pulled her lips apart, the labia stretching open slightly. Kneeling down, Ryan suddenly jammed his thumbs up her cunt and pulled hard sideways, prying her tight little hole open while she cried out.

“N-no don't touch me there!”

Ignoring her, Mike joined Ryan and took out a penlight, shining it up her protesting fucktube. Seeing nothing but pink, he puts the light away. Ryan pulled his thumbs free and her labia sprung back, the gates of her sex snapping shut again neatly.

“Not a virgin I see, I knew you were a whore” Ryan mocked her. She just stared at him, wanting to cry.

“Who was it, whore? Who fucked that nasty twat?”

“N-no one..years ago when I was little I...well...I used a carrot.”

Mike guffawed loudly, and she turned even more red. “So you're a whore for vegetables huh. Good to know.” Mortified that she had told him, she felt small and useless.

Still sitting with her legs open, she looked up and asked “You can see I have no drugs...please, will you let me and my brother go?”

Ryan laughed at her. “Your brother was caught committing grand theft auto. I know, let's talk to him about it.” Chelsea jumped, startled, as the rooms lights were turned on, banishing the oppressive darkness that blinded her to her surroundings.

Right in front of her, not 10 feet away, her brother Andy was soundlessly banging on the soundproofed glass of the cell he was locked in. Yelping, Chelsea snapped her legs shut and quickly stood, covering her tits and pussy and turning sideways.

“Oh my Goddd! He's right there!!!” Chelsea wanted to shrivel up and die. “What the fuck!?”

“Yes, he is there” Ryan said nonchalantly. Keeping his gaze on her, he takes his gun from the holster and points it straight at Andy while Chelsea shrieked. Cowering, Andy backed away from the window, silently mouthing words no one could hear.

“Stop, NO don't shoot him wait! WHAT IS HAPPENING?” she wailed. She took two steps towards Ryan but Mike intercepted her, backhanding her across the face while she crumpled into a heap. The corner of her mouth trickled a droplet of blood while she looked up, wide eyed.

“Listen closely slut, and listen well” Mike said quietly. “You are not at a police station. We caught your brother stealing and brought him here. If you disobey us, he dies. If you piss us off, he dies. If we decide you're just not worth keeping around anymore, he dies. Do you understand?”

“B-but...why?!” Chelsea screamed. “Why us? What do you want?”

“Dear Andy here had your picture on him, and we liked what we saw, it's as simple as that. Now answer the question!”

*Smack! He knocked her to the floor again, and sat down on her waist. Pinning her arms above her head with one hand, he started slapping her sore titbags left and right with the other.

*Slap! Ungh! “DO”

*Slap! Oww! “YOU”

*Slap! Ouch! “UNDERSTAND?”

*Slap! “Ohhhh y-yes!”

*Slap! “Yes, yes!”

*Slap! “I u-understand!!!”

*Slap! “Owwww!”

*Slap!*Slap!*Slap!*Slap!

He spanked her hurting boobflesh hard, never tiring of watching the jiggling. Even after she answered him, he still laid into her tits.

“Good.” *Slap! “Ohhh s-stop” *Slap! “Ngh!” *Slap!

After another half dozen slaps for good measure, he releases her arms and savagely grabs both of her nipples. Standing up, he pulls her to her feet, stretching her breasts into cones as she claws at his hands, desperately trying to release his fingers. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks, a combination of stress and pain. It looked beautiful.

Ryan lowered his gun. “You were born to be a slut; to swallow cocks and be used as a toy.”

She glared at him. “I'm a person, not a toy!” The boldness of her statement was diminished by her wincing face, as she struggled to pull Mike's pinching fingers from her tender nubbins.

“Oh?” He pointed his gun at Andy again. “A slow learner too it seems.”

“NO no! I'm sorry!” she cried out. “Don't hurt him, I'm a toy, I'm just a toy!”

Ryan lowered his gun and smiled, but the gesture just gave Chelsea chills. Taking out a taser, he punched in a code and opened the door to Andy's soundproof enclosure, stepping inside. Andy's voice could barely be heard through the cracked open door.

“Let her go, you piece of- AHH!”

Ryan had shot Andy with the taser and the man had crumpled to the floor, twitching and crying out.

“Andy! Stop! Please!!”

Over and over again he was tased, as Chelsea cried and begged them to stop, unable to rush to the door. Leaving her brother twitching on the ground, Ryan locked the door again and faced Chelsea.

“That was generous. Next time maybe we cut something off. Maybe we kill him, I don't know. Don't. Piss. Us. Off.”

Nodding and crying, Chelsea sniffled and weakly said “I'm sorry.”

Shaking his head, Mike tugged hard on her tit tips, leading the scared girl from Andy's cell back upstairs. This bitch needed to be broken in. Ryan followed behind.

— ---------------

“Ouch! S-sir, please – ouch!”

Chelsea's felt embarrassed as she was yanked and led around by her nipples, the hard little tips savagely crushed by Mike's iron grip. She was taken back upstairs and grunted as her breasts pulled out away from her body, and she was thrown into the wall of the kitchen.

Looking around, she couldn't believe she had thought they had taken her to the police station. This was literally just some guy's home. A big home, to be sure, Mike had inherited acreage from his father and threw all his money into building a larger house. He and Ryan had added cells to the large basement for any 'guests' they might have, and had tirelessly soundproofed the walls and beefed up security. Being in such a quiet and secluded spot anyway, Mike wasn't worried about being caught.

Ryan was the first to speak.

“All right. Since you are our permanent guest we feel obliged to enlighten you. Do you know what your purpose in life is?”

“What are you talking about?” she looked at him tiredly.

Glancing at each other, Mike step forward and grabbed two fistfuls of her breasts, squeezing down like a vice while her hands clawed at his.

“Ow! Ahh!”

“That's not how you speak to us. Try again.”

“Unh! Ouch! S-sorry Sir. What is my p-purpose Sir? I don't know.” Releasing her breasts, Mike gave the right tit a hefty smack, watching it crash into the other.

“Well, funny you should ask. You exist to please men. You are a fuckdoll, a whore. A piece of meat.” She just looked at him quietly, angry at his words but too afraid for herself and Andy to sound off.

“Your every thought should be how can I please men today” he continued. “You are young and stupid, slut, but we will break you in. Remember what happens if you don't obey us.” She nodded slowly. How did she end up here? This morning she just woke up and went to work...a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I think we'd like to have our cocks sucked” suggested Mike. “Why don't you get on your knees and show us what a good slut you are.”

Eyeing him tentatively with a look of sorrow, the naked girl hesitated then sank to her knees, right onto the hard kitchen floor. Walking up to her, Mike hovered his crotch near her face, waiting.

“Go ahead and take it out, it won't bite. Neither will you if you want Andy to keep living.” Swallowing nervously, she reached a dainty hand up and fumbled with the top button of his black pants. Popping it free, she slid the zipper down and fished out his semi-hard cock from his underpants.

It looked fat, slightly longer than average length. A little bead of precum sat on the tip, and she just looked at it, a sinking feeling roiling in her stomach. She had never sucked a cock before, or had sex for that matter.

Grabbing her hair tightly, Mike pulls her head back, making her look him in the eye. “Open those pretty pink lips. Remember to suck and use your tongue.” Her soft mouth opened, and Mike pushed in roughly, reveling in the sensation of her wet heat. Releasing her hair, he smacked her on the head. “I said suck!”

And suck she did. It tasted awful to her, the small bead of precum gave her tastebuds a preview of what was to come, and it was bitter and weird. Sucking on it awkwardly like it was a straw, she started working her mouth along the shaft, half of it disappearing into her mouth. The cock itself almost seemed...earthy. It wasn't so bad, she thought.

“Use your tongue! Lick the tip!” She popped off the head and muttered “s-sorry!” then lapped at the slit on the head, flushing red in embarrassment, hands slightly shaking. Sucking the cock back in, she got a nice little rhythm going, no longer sucking non-stop but more of a nursing suction, as if she was trying to milk his balls. She leaned forwards with her hands on his thighs for support.

“Swallow that cock whore. This is what you were made for.” Mike closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. “Deeper!” She tried, but barely made any more progress down his length. Once the head started smacking into the entrance of her throat, her gag reflex kicked in and she felt like she was going to throw up.

The cock got messy fast, with a mixture of her saliva and his precum starting to run from the corner of her mouth. “You're making a damn mess! Swallow! Swallow!” She gulped and worked her throat, a feeling of nausea washing over her as the mixed liquid wormed its way down her gullet. Somehow, she kept it down. Picking up speed, he grabbed her hair and starting pumping her face down his shaft, grunting as his cock banged into the back of her throat.

Gagging and spluttering, her red face stared up at him pleadingly, while she worked her mouth. “Uh! Yeah! Listen up, bitch! Uh! When I come, don't swallow. Hold it! You fucking hear me? Uh! If you spit we're gonna beat you black and blue!” Tensing up, he pulled her head back until just the tip sat inside her mouth, and came.

Chelsea felt her tonsils being sprayed down with the white cream, and the taste of his cum washed over her. More and more cum filled her mouth, until finally he pulled his cock from her wetly sucking lips with a small 'pop!'

Still holding her by the hair, he pulls her head back. “Open that fuckmouth. Show me!” Tears rolling down her cheeks, she does as she is told, and he hocks back and spits into her open mouth, the thick mucus and saliva joining the small white puddle.

“Swish it around, savor it!” her mouth closes and she works the load back and forth, feeling like she was going to vomit. The smell of his cum seemed to come up through her nostrils. Ryan walks up behind her, taking off his belt. She doesn't pay him any notice. “Get used to the taste. You will be swallowing a lot of this stuff. Sit back on your heels, legs spread. Keep swishing!”

She shifted into the required position, still looking up at Mike, running the cum around in her mouth. Blushing, she spread her legs and balanced backwards on her feet. “Remember whore you are not allowed to spit. There's only one way to get rid of that load. Would you like to keep tasting it for a while, or would you like to swallow?” She just nodded at him, disgusted at herself but she really thought if she kept swishing his cum around she would throw up, and who knows what they'd do to her then. She had to get this over with.

“Ok then bitch. You may swallow.” Just as she started to gulp down the man cream, Ryan flung his belt straight up behind her between her legs, the rough leather snapping with a Crack! right onto her delicate pussy.

“*gulp! AHH! *Cough” NGHHH!! o-oh my-*cough-gawd!!!” Throat convulsing, Chelsea fell over onto her side and clutched at her sex, while she spluttered and choked on the cum, trying her best to keep it in her stomach. Her pussy burned and a nice red stripe angrily colored her soft sex lips. Why did he hit her?!

“*gasp W-why did you- ahh!” she never got to finish her question, Ryan suddenly hauling her up and throwing her face up onto the kitchen table, head hanging off the edge.

“S-stop, I-mnngh!” Freeing his cock, he shoved his entire length into her mouth, cutting her off. Pumping his hips right from the start, he groaned as she tried desperately to fight him off, not getting a good breath beforehand. Leaning forwards, he grips both of her titties and squeezes hard, feeling her whimper into his cock, making him harder.

Keeping a steel grip on her tits, he pulls his cock from her mouth, letting her gasp in a breath, before plunging back into her face. His cock punched back into the entrance of her throat and she moaned as it achingly stretched wider, a small bulge visible in her neck. Pulling back into her mouth to let her suckle on him, he goes easy on her to help her acclimatize to her new role as a fuckdoll. He dug his fingers deeper into the tender mammary meat and twists, delighting in the vibrations her groans sent through his shaft.

While she struggled to swallow Ryan's sword, her hands pushing away at his thighs, Mike went to the fridge. “If I remember correctly, slut” he spoke over the lewd noise of her wetly suctioning mouth “you said you took your own virginity with a carrot.” He laughed at the red faced girl, unable to answer him with her mouth full of cock.

“Since you love vegetables so much, let me see if I can round something up for you.” He brings a fat cucumber to the table she's on, her head lolling backwards off the edge as Ryan pumped her mouth. Cum and saliva ran down the corners of her mouth into her hair, along with her tears, and Ryan pulled his cock free as Mike approached.

*Pop!

*gasp

Mouth still agape as she sucked in a breath, Mike shoved the cucumber into her mouth, roughly jamming it all the way back into her throat. The large vegetable made her neck bulge obscenely, and Chelsea gagged and twisted on the table, clutching at her throat. Mike pulled it back out with a wet slurping noise and, she turned her head sideways and vomited, spilling the contents of her stomach on the floor.

“Dumb fucking slut. How dare you waste our cum like that.”

“*cough p-please, just give m-me a min-Ah! A-mnnngh!”

Ryan punched down angrily onto her right tit, then the left, grinding his knuckles into her sore breastflesh. Her mouth popped open in a moan of pain, and he wasted no time, feeding her his cock again. “You've already pissed me off with the mess you've made. I suggest you try harder or I'll be visiting Andy.” Steeling herself, she pushed thoughts of her roiling stomach out of her mind and raised her hands, clutching his ass through his pants, pulling his cock deeper into her mouth.

Gently slapping her thighs, Mike made Chelsea expose her pristine, tight cunt to him. Feeding the tip of the newly wettened cucumber into her, he pushed in the first 2 inches and twisted it back and forth, watching her tense and wiggle on the table. Suddenly, he smashed his palm into the base of the cucumber, and 9 inches of fat vegetable were suddenly wedged up inside her!

“..mmmmnnhhHH! NghH!!” Chelsea groaned and wiggled her hips, her pussy feeling like it had just been split open. This was way, way wider than the little carrot she had used on herself before. Her cunt clenched and flexed uselessly, trying to expel the invader, and Mike started to pump it back and forth.

He worked her little twat hard. It was best for her to get used to such things sooner rather than later. Spitroasted by Ryan in her mouth and a cucumber in her cunt, she couldn't help but get aroused despite the stretching pain. She started to slightly buck her hips a little to meet Mike's thrusts. They fucked her long and hard, and when Ryan came straight down her throat, pumping her stomach full of cum again, he and Mike switched places. Thrusting into her hot fuckmouth again and again, Mike worked himself up to another orgasm, while Ryan recovered and pumped her cunt with the cucumber.

After each had cum twice, the pair felt sated. Whether Chelsea came or not wasn't important to them; she was there for their pleasure, not the other way. They left the gasping young woman laying on the table, cum leaking from her mouth, her juices running down from her pussy over her ass. The cucumber was still lodged up her fucktube, the end pushing painfully into her cervix.

“Not a bad job, cunt, all things considered.” Ryan said, rolling his neck. “You did throw up but we'll give you a freebie. If you throw up from now on, there will be lots and lots of pain for you. Understand?”

Red eyed and crying, she answered him weakly. “yes.”

“Right then. Let me help you.” Mike grabbed her knees and lifted her ass up off the table, while Ryan took some duct tape to make makeshift panties for her. Pulling the tape tight, he passed it between her legs to hold the cucumber up her pussy, then taped a waistband around her hips. He dropped an apron and a wet rag on her stomach.

“Get up slut. You need to clean up your mess, and get started on making us dinner.”

“I...o-okay.”

She pushed herself up into a sitting position on the table, and groaned. The cucumber up her cunt made her feel so full, and her weight pushed it up against the mouth of her womb. Quickly she hopped to her shaky feet, her legs slightly bowed, and she tied the backless apron on, leaving her ass completely exposed.

Picking up the wet rag, she got on her hands and knees and started mopping up the vile vomit and cum mixture. “Remember slut, that belongs in your stomach. Don't forget next time.” They watched the humiliated girl work as they fixed their clothes, then made her wash and wring out the rag in the sink. Not done, she also cleaned up her juices off the surface of the table.

Satisfied, they made her start on dinner. Country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and some sauteed mushrooms were in order. She looked cute mashing up the potatoes in her little apron, Mike standing to the side of her to watch her tits jiggling heavily.

When it came time to start frying the meat and saute the mushrooms, Mike had a wicked idea. He pulled the neck strap up over her head and let the front of the apron dangle down, exposing her breasts above the pans. Forcing her to stand close, the grease popped and splattered on her tits, Chelsea crying out as she tried to ignore the little stings. Her knees were still bowed inward a little, courtesy of her 'love for vegetables.'

“You have a big day tomorrow, slut.” Ryan grinned at her as she worked.

She looked apprehensive but kept cooking, flipping the steaks over. She winced as the grease flared up and splattered her tits.

“What do you mean, sir?” she asked, dreading the answer. “Ouch!”

“Well, we made a little arrangement with one of your former co-workers. Ricardo, I think it was?”

She stopped paying attention to the pan and looked at him. What sort of arrangement? That was the old bastard that gave her hell from day one, always talking down to her and giving her the creeps.

“He and some friends will pay some big money to see your useless ass put in its place. You will entertain them tomorrow.”

“I..what? No, no!” she pouted angrily, looking at Ryan. Seeing the anger flash in his eyes, she hastily added “I mean, is that really necessary Sir?” she forced herself to say calmly. It took all her willpower not to scream at him. “Don't you want me for yourself?” The grease popped again, making her yelp.

Ryan scoffed at her. “You value yourself far too much, little slut. All the more reason to take you down a peg or three. Mind the pan, you idiot girl.”

Quietly fuming, she finished cooking dinner and helped their plates. When she started to make her own plate, Mike grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“You are a bitch, are you not? Bitches eat scraps. You may sit at the table with us, because we are so generous, but your plate will be empty.”

“But- but I'm hungry! Can't I-....” she stopped midsentence, his withering glare shutting her up.

“Set the table, leave an empty plate for yourself.”

Pulling her apron back up over her boobs, she laid the two full plates on the table, and one empty one for herself. Ryan grabbed her right breast roughly as she passed by him, pulling her to a stop to face him.

“When you serve dinner, you will enter the room, curtsy, and announce it is ready. Do it now.”

“I don't know how to curtsy” she said tartly. This was getting ridiculous.

“You're so fucking useless. Watch.” He demonstrated the curtsy to her, like a father teaching his idiot daughter, and she would have laughed if she wasn't so afraid of him. It looked ridiculous to see a grown man curtsy, but she copied the gesture as best she could.

Holding the edges of her apron out, she crossed her feet and dipped down. “Dinner is served, Sirs.” She felt demeaned with the gesture, lessened. She blinked sadly.

“About time” said Mike. “Take off your apron and take your seat.”

Even though they had already fucked her throat and stuffed her with cucumber, she still blushed at being told to strip completely naked. Untying the apron, she folded it neatly and set it on the kitchen counter. Pulling out her chair she took her seat.

“ohhh...” she groaned softly, the fat end of the cucumber that poked out slightly from her twat pushing into the hard wooden seat. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Feeling a bit full, eh?” Mike's eyes glinted as he watched her, cutting into his steak with his knife.

“...yes sir.” she answered, eyes downcast.

“Don't pretend you don't love it. That pussy is hungry for vegetables, no? We will feed it a varied and healthy diet, don't worry.” Her love tunnel tightened at his words as she shifted again, fearfully squeezing down on the cucumber. She wished she could take off her makeshift duct tape 'panties' and pull it out.

She sat quietly, watching the two men scarf down their food. Apparently kidnapping girls took a lot of energy, she thought.

She wondered if she'd have the opportunity to just poison their food. As if reading her mind, Ryan addressed her.

“Just so you know, we will be watching you every time you cook. If anything tastes weird, or if we even suspect you did something to our food, we will kill you. Right there, on the fucking spot. Dead.”

“I-I understand sir. I wouldn't ever do something like that.”

“Mhmm. Remember what I've said.” Leaning over to her plate, he scraped the fat and gristle he cut off his steak onto it. She stared at it.

Taking a swig of his glass of beer, Ryan started in on the rest of his meal. Mike wasn't a big fan of mashed potatoes and so ate very little of it, lazily scooping up small scoops and staring at Chelsea's tits. He made Chelsea go and get the steak she had cooked for herself and put it on his plate, opting to simply eat more meat to make up for it.

Full and satisfied, the pair stood up and walked their plates over to her. Ryan dumped what was left of his mushrooms on her plate, and Mike overturned his plate of fat, gristle, and a substantial lump of cold mashed potatoes. It wasn't a lot of food, and it looked disgusting with all the fat in it.

“...I'm not hungry” she said, looking with disdain at her plate.

“I don't care” said Mike. “We are not asking you to eat, we are telling you to. But first, you need your slut sauce.”

They stood to either side of the sitting girl and pulled their cocks out, as they bobbed gently in front of her face.

“Every dinner you will suck us off and spit the cum onto your food. Only then will you eat.”

Her face blanched white and she burst into tears.

“Hey. Slut. You have work to do.” Ryan smacked her cheek with his cock as her shoulders heaved.

*Slap!

Getting annoyed with her, he slapped her face. This only made her cry harder, but she turned her face and sucked his stiff cock yet again into her steamy fuckmouth.

She suckled him as he thrust back and forth, her sad sobs vibrating pleasantly on his cock. He didn't last long, and as he spurted into her mouth she held it there, looking up at him as he came. After he pulled free, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her face over her plate of food.

“Spit it out. All over that delicious meal of yours.” With snot running from her nose and tears down her face, she spit the thick fluid out, the white cream slowly dripping down all over the gristle and fat. Ryan released her hair and she turned towards Mike, dutifully milking his cock of his spunk. He took her hand and told her to gently massage his balls while she sucked.

She cupped them a little too hard and he shoved his cock down her throat and pinched her nose, watching her face turn red.

“Did I not tell you gently, slut?” She nodded as best she could, tears running down her face. Pulling back, he let her resume her blow job, her hand more delicately cupping his balls as she worked her mouth. He too finally came, and she spat out the viscous load all over her meal.

“See, it's not so bad. You can barely even see the slut sauce with those mashed potatoes mixed in there!”

“If you say so sir.” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I do. Bon appetit whore. I expect that plate to be licked clean.”

Taking her spoon, for a fork wasn't necessary, she scooped up a morsel of potatoes and cum and put it in her mouth. It tasted awful, but the second bite was even worse with a large lump of fat mixed in it. Her stomach angrily protested to her, but she methodically worked her way through the entire plate, stopping occasionally to breathe through her nose for a few seconds, forcibly calming her stomach. She knew if she vomited again they would beat her.

Setting down her spoon, she picked up her plate and extended her little pink tongue. Softly she lapped at the plate until it was squeaky clean. Smiling at her, they made her get her apron and clean up the table and kitchen. She felt degraded when they made her lick their plates clean in the kitchen before being allowed to wash them with soap and water.

“It's getting pretty late slut” Mike said, checking the time. “You have a big day tomorrow, we're going to turn in. You staying the night as well, man?” he asked Ryan.

“Yeah, I'll go give that dumbass downstairs his soup then I'm going to crash too.”

“You hear that slut? We have an honored guest in our house tonight” mocked Mike. “You have a cell in the basement but I think tonight you will keep Ryan warm.”

Tired, naked, and wanting to be left alone, Chelsea weakly answered “o-okay.”

While Ryan went downstairs, Mike took her outside in the freezing snow to 'bathe' her. He unceremoniously ripped off the duct tape panties, making her squeal, and pulled the fat cucumber from her tired cunt.

*Slap!

He gives her pussy a hard spank, making her yelp as her thighs snap shut. Turning on the hose, he sprayed the shivering girl down head to toe, and threw a bar of soap at her. Standing in the buff in snow in the middle of the night, she lathered herself up with shivering hands.

“More. Nice and sudsy. Don't forget to wash under those fat titbags. Here, I'll help you.”

He grabs her hard nipples, but loses his grip due to the slippery soap. Trying again, he dug the sharp edge of his fingernails into the teats, squeezing excruciatingly tight as she whimpered. He pulled straight up, and she rose up on tip toe trying to relieve the strain.

“Ow- ouch! P-please i-i-it hhurts!” her chattering teeth made it hard to talk. It felt like his nails were about to pierce through her nipples!

“Then hurry up and wash, I don't have all day!”

Her shaky hands shot up with the soap and washed the undersides of her tits, and all around her chest. As she washed, Mike jiggled her tits by the nipples, watching as they swayed heavily, the pain shooting through her abused tips. Satisfied, Mike released her and she dropped back down to her heels, moaning as her tits wobbled back into place, deep red indentations adorning her frigid teats.

He hosed her down again, making sure to get all the soapy suds from her body. She wriggled and writhed under the freezing stream, and nearly had a heart attack when he suddenly shoved the nozzle up her pussy, rinsing her out.

“Oh gggod!!!” She squirmed and clutched at the hand holding the hose, his other hand gripping her ass. Her lips starting to turn blue, he finally pulled the hose from her and let her go back inside.

After drying off and brushing her teeth, she was made to get into the guest room bed with Ryan for the night. She was still cold, so the heat from another body actually felt really good to her. Ryan chained her wrist to the foot of the bed. She had to climb up on top of him and suck his semi-soft cock into her mouth, and he told her not to take it out until morning. She straddled his head, legs spread, and he spent a while just inhaling her scent, his cock growing harder in her mouth, occasionally licking along her entire slit and sucking on the nub of her clit. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.

Eventually he tired of her pussy in his face and pushed her legs to the side, but she had to remain with his cock in her mouth until morning. Her mind turned over the events of the day. If she tried to make a run for it or get help, her brother would be killed. She had to obey these horrible men, she didn't know what else she could do. She cried herself to sleep, softly sobbing to not disturb him, and let her tears fall onto his crotch.

— ------------------

When morning came, Ryan woke up first. His cock was still in Chelsea's mouth, and he could feel her soft breathing from her nose as she slumbered. Moving carefully, he gently pulled himself from her mouth and slowly slid his legs out from under her. She fidgeted and muttered something sleepily, but did not wake.

Slipping out of bed, he walked around quietly and unlocked her chained wrist from the foot of the bed. He watched her sleep for a minute, then decided it was time to get the day started.

He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her right off the bed, her eyes opening in alarm just a split second before her full chest came crashing to the floor. She wheezed as her milk ducts flattened, crushed by her own weight, and she bonked her forehead painfully on the ground.

“Ahh! What the-” she kicked her legs, but he started dragging the girl out the door, heading for the kitchen.

“Morning bitch! I hope you slept well last night, because you have a big day today!” Her nipples chafed on the carpet as he drug her along, her boobs dragging up towards her neck. Trying to protect her chest she rose up on hands and elbows as she slid, kicking to break his grip but failing.

“What is wrong with you? Let me go!”

“Oh no sleepy head. You need to get started on breakfast!”

Dragging her all the way to the kitchen, he released her ankles and she clambered to her feet. Her hair was disheveled and her face flushed. She looked hot, he thought.

Throwing her apron at her, she sighed wearily and put it on. Mike, hearing the commotion, made an appearance himself, coming over to 'wish her good morning' before shoving his tongue down her throat. She recoiled at the intimacy, but kissed him back as he reached down and pushed her apron aside to pinch her labia together. Rolling them back and forth between thumb and forefinger, she gasped quietly.

"Did you sleep well slut?" Mike asked, still gently squeezing her supple lips together, looking right in her face.

"Y-yes, I guess..." the red faced girl's thighs squeezed around his hand as she fidgeted, clearly embarrassed at his touch.

Turning his wrist, Mike wormed his middle finger up her still dry pussy, and started gently fucking her with it.

"oh... don't..."

"I think we'd like eggs and bacon this morning. What do you think Ryan, sound good?" Her pussy started to wetten slightly and his finger slipped easier into her depths.

"Yeah man, that sounds good to me."

"Oh, and coffee of course" Mike added, now scissoring two fingers up into Chelsea's quivering hole. "okay... I can do that...." She squirmed and tried to pull away from him, and he laughed and gave her a gentle shove. When she turned around, he slaps her exposed ass, leaving a small amount of her own wetness on her cheeks. Blushing, she turns on the oven.

She pulls out 2 pans and rummages what she needs from the fridge. She gets the bacon in the oven, and sets some eggs next to the other pan. Ryan walks up behind her as she works, and suddenly smacks his hand onto her ass, squeezing her bare right ass cheek while he speaks to her.

"Bitch, get us some coffee. Do you expect us to just sit around here without something to drink?"

"S-sorry!" startled, she starts messing with the coffee maker, and soon the aroma of fresh brew fills the kitchen.

Setting two mugs in front of them, she pours their cups. Before she can get away, Ryan grabs her breast over her apron, and yanks her to his side.

"Ow! What? What?" she squirms a little, and her cheeks color when he pulls her apron's neck strap over her head, exposing her titties.

"I wouldn't mind some milk in my coffee" he says smiling, palming her left breast and tweaking the nipple.

"That's so gross! A-and I can't do that anyway..." she tried to wiggle free, but he grabs her nipple tightly and pulls down, bending her over his mug.

"Not any grosser than cow's milk. And you would say that whether you were lactating or not. There's only one way to know for sure."

Grasping her boob, he roughly squeezes and starts tugging on her nipple in a milking motion, looking for any signs of the girly cream from her teat. Mike sets his cup in front of her other boob and joins him, firmly compressing her tit with one hand and excessively jerking her pink nipple with the other. Her hands braced herself against the table's surface.

"S-Stop! I don't have any milk! Ouch!"

"Maybe we're not doing it hard enough. Really work the whore's bags, Mike!"

Not getting any result, they tighten their grips painfully on her empty breasts, hoping the extra pressure might coax out some motherly dairy. Furiously pulling on her tit tips, their rough calloused hands tug and yank on her sensitive flesh, her tits aching in protest. She tried to pull away from them, but only added more strain to her poor titties, so she stopped and just gritted her teeth.

"I have an idea, hold the bitch for a second Mike." Ryan released her right breast but the relief was short lived, Mike reaching over and clutching her nipple, holding her in place. Ryan quickly shuffled through the kitchen drawer and found the little bundle of twine that was used to tie up poultry and meats. Tying a quick slipknot in it, he returns to the table and he and Mike slip the large loop of twine over both her sore globes, only bringing the string halfway up her mammaries.

"What the heck are you doing, there's no mil - Ahh!!"

With Mike tugging her nipples down, Ryan yanked on the twine, savagely shrinking the loop down and cinching both her boobs halfway up, pulling them together.

"Ouch! That hur--owww!" Keeping the twine pulled taut, her tits looking like they had been cut in half, Ryan wraps them in the same spot 5 more times and ties it off, each wrap increasing the pressure in her barren milkbags.

Her fat nipples swelled further under the treatment, and they once again gripped her sore mammaries in their iron grips, resuming the forceful milking. Sinking their fingers into her udders deeply with one hand and with the other furiously working her nipples with renewed yanking tugs, they tried with all their might to get even just one drop of milk out of her. They were disappointed.

“Ahh! Godd stop! Ah! Ahh owww”

“Well...I guess you really are dry. Not even your tits do what they're supposed to.” Ryan muttered sadly as he manhandled the whimpering whore. “I suppose that's something we can try to fix later.”

“I-I told you! Just, let me go! Ohhhhh!!!” Giving her nipple a savage parting twist and holding it there, Ryan again yanks and 'milks' her hard for a few seconds, Mike grinning and copying him. Their teat-pinching hands practically punching up into her chest, her pumping, twisted titties make her flinch, her face cringing. They release her and she instantly retreats from the table, the humiliated young woman cradling her cruelly strangled boobs, feeling like a cow.

“I can't believe you did that to me...” she picks at the twine, the knot super tight, and releases her bound up mammaries. She stares at them while she holds her chest, and the smell of the bacon filled the room.

“Finish with breakfast” said Mike. “You can play with your tits later.” Looking at him angrily, she storms off to the range, pulling her apron back up over her boobs as she walks.

“Tits out slut!” Ryan barks behind her. “You know what to do when you're frying food.” Flustered, she drops the top down again, her red-ringed fatsacks bouncing back into the free air.

The bacon nearly done, she starts cracking eggs in the pan, the sizzling grease popping and splattering on her chest. She throws the shells into the trash under the sink, not without some attitude. The eggs cooking nicely, Mike tells her to start licking the empty eggshells clean.

“W-what?”

“I said take out those egg shells and lick them clean. Those cost money, are you trying to waste my food?”

“But... I could get sick! Ah!” The grease popped again on her tits.

Raising an eyebrow, Mike looked at Ryan. “I guess the dumbass downstairs doesn't get any food today.”

“Looks that way” he answered, shrugging.

“No! No, wait, here, I'll do it!” Picking up an eggshell from the trash can, she sticks her tongue out and laps up remnant raw egg, then picks up another. She stops briefly to flip the eggs in the pan, looking sick, then picks up another eggshell. Licking them all clean, she feels a little queasy, especially after the one with a fat glob of yellow yolk stuck to it.

She takes the eggs off the burner and wipes her chest with a towel, before pulling her apron back up. Helping their plates, she does her little curtsy and announces breakfast is ready.

Sitting naked at the table again with her empty plate, she watches her captors stuff their faces with the delightful smelling food. She wished she could eat some of it, it looked so good...

Saving her some bits for her portion, they dump their scraps onto her plate: some pieces of cold egg and chewed off bacon, the meat intentionally bitten off leaving mostly fat.

“That food is still too warm for you slut, get under the table and suck our cocks while it cools off.”

“...fine.”

They stay in their chairs as she slides onto the floor, crawling under the table to each one and fishing their cocks out of their pants. Wrapping her lips around Ryan's hard shaft, she sucks and massages the cock with her tongue, and gently cups the balls, sadly waiting for the inevitable splash and taste of cum. They continue to make conversation with each other as if she doesn't exist, as if she's not worth noticing.

Suddenly tensing up for a moment, Ryan looks down at her and speaks. “On your plate.”

Mouth full of his jizz, she crawls out from under the table and walks to her plate, bending over and spitting it all over her scraps. Slipping under the table again over to Mike, she blows him as well, except he pulls her all the way down his cock at the last minute, spearing her throat painfully.

Chelsea gurgles as the fat head pierces her gullet, and his cum floods straight down to her stomach. Coughing, she pulls herself off of him with a wet, lewd pop, a small string of cum and spit briefly stretching from her lips to his twitching manliness.

“ugh, god”

“Looks like you get to enjoy half your slut sauce directly this morning bitch, I was feeling generous. Say thank you.”

“...thank you” her voice was thick with cum while her eyes watered. She makes her way back to her chair.

“You may eat.”

Scooping up bits of egg, bacon, and cum, she shuffles it into her mouth and chews as little as possible, opting to swallow whatever she can. The eggs weren't so bad, it was mainly the cum and bacon fat that was so gross... maybe she could deal with this sort of thing. She soldiered through her plate and looked up when Mike set both their coffee mugs in front of her, each with a small amount of room temperature coffee in it, it having lost its warmth long ago.

“Swallow that down too while you're at it. It's good practice, and you're basically a dumpster anyway.”

Looking hateful but resigned, she quickly pours one cup, then the other into her mouth and gulps it down, shuddering at the bitter cold taste. She gathers their plates up and brings them back to the kitchen, dressed in her apron, and licks them all clean before washing them in the sink.

Reaching out for the greasy pans, they stop her. “Don't forget to lick those as well. Waste not.”

She glares at them and complains “it's literally just fat and grease. I'm not eating that.”

Smiling coldly, Ryan grabs her arms and pins them behind her back. “Stop! I don't want to-” she's cut off as Mike grabs her hair roughly, and slides the dirty egg pan onto the counter in front of her. Manhandling her by her hair, he pushes her head down and rubs her face all through the grease while she shrieked.

“You think what you want matters? Lick it up, bitch! Lick it up!” Her scalp burns as he drags her face through the dregs of her cooking, and she starts to cry.

“o-okay! I'm s-sorry!”

“Now!”

Sticking her tongue out, he roughly smears her face around like a rag as she licks and swallows, lapping up the buttery grease from the dirty egg pan. It looked fairly clean to begin with, so he pulls that one out and shoves the bacon pan next under her nose. Smashing her face down into the grease, she again starts licking.

Seeing she was cooperating, he releases the hair of the sobbing girl and lets her lick the rest up without his help. The bacon grease was full of fat and thick and cold, and it was all she could do to force herself to swallow it down. Finally she lifted her teary face from the pan and looked up at Mike, her lips, nose, and cheeks glistening.

“I..I did it...” she sniffled, Ryan still pinning her arms behind her.

“You need to learn to obey without question, slut” Ryan sternly told her. “It would be much easier for you.”

“Yes sir....” she started crying again and he released her. Wiping her face off with a slice of bread, soaking up the grease and tears, he shoves it into her mouth so she can chew it up and finish the job.

As she swallowed the bread, looking miserable, Mike decided to test her.

“Show me you understand slut. Get on your knees and open your mouth.”

“o-okay” Why wouldn't they leave her alone this morning? She sank to her knees and parted her lips, her steamy fuckmouth ready for whatever he had in mind.

Standing in front of her, she winced as she heard him hocking back his spit, gathering a massive amount of mucus. Leaning over her, he let it drip into her mouth, the slimy spit slowly running down over her tongue. She gagged but kept her mouth open as Ryan turned her head and followed suit, his spit having the distinct flavor of the breakfast he just ate.

“Go ahead and swallow that too, then we'll get going.” Closing her mouth, she gulped and the spit flowed down her throat, moving so slowly she could still feel it sliding after she had swallowed. Pulling her upright, they rip the apron off the degraded girl, her kitchen duties completed, leaving her naked as a jaybird.

“We're going for a ride this morning. To your old workplace, actually.”

They were going to the warehouse? She had hoped they would at least meet the shitty middle aged man in private somewhere, not where she used to work.

“The warehouse isn't open on Saturdays sir...” she protested meekly. Her voice cracked at a weird pitch, their thick mucus still lining her throat as she swallowed, trying to clear it while her stomach churned.

“Ricardo will open the place up for us. They have a big day planned for you” Mike answered helpfully, her heart dropping.

Mike had approached Ricardo when he caught him staring at Chelsea through the window during their initial 'interrogation' of her. Mike had intercepted him to threaten him into silence, but was pleasantly surprised after speaking to the man. Apparently the guy thought she was haughty and took an immediate disliking to the girl. When Mike offered to let him and his buddies have their way with her, for a not modest fee of course, he happily accepted. He had rounded up a few of his buddies at the warehouse, and they agreed to bring her there on Saturday. They would all split the price tag.

She'll generate far more wealth as a fucktoy than working in a warehouse, he thought. Any earnings would go to him though, of course. He wasn't opposed to the idea of whoring her out occasionally for some extra cash. Speaking of cash, he would empty out her bank accounts tomorrow, after purchasing a one way ticket to somewhere far away; part of his plan to stage her mysterious disappearance. Of course, his friends at the station would ensure any investigation never got that far in the first place, especially when she would be available for their use.

Today wasn't just about the money though. Chelsea was a reluctant slut, and the more abused and degraded he could make her, the better. It was hard for her to accept her new position, so some extra guys beating her foolish pride out of her would be a great help.

Ryan walked towards her holding a small chained apparatus. As he got closer, Chelsea could see the gleaming steel clamps.

“W-what's that, sir?” she asked nervously. In response he just palmed her left breast, hefting its weight, giving it a gentle squeeze. Opening the jaws of the clamp, he snapped it shut over her nipple as Chelsea squealed.

“Aii! Ouch!” She grabbed at the clamp, and was promptly slapped across the face.

“Do not touch those! You will leave them on as long as we say!”

“Ohhhh but it hurts! Oh my god!” She kept her shaking hand away from the nipple clamp, and howled again even louder when he clamped the other heavy tit. A chain connected the two clamps together, and a length of thin black rope was tied in the middle, serving as a leash.

Ryan gave an experimental tug on her tit leash, walking back a few steps, smiling as she quietly yelped and walked forward to relieve the strain. Looking thoughtful, he reached up and tightened the nuts on the clamps while she moaned, making sure her leash would not accidentally come off.

Heading out from the house, they again took the squad car, Ryan and Mike dressed in their officer's clothing, Chelsea in her birthday suit. They led her out by her tit leash, and pushed her into the back seat again, dark tinted windows cracked open to the wintry air. At least they didn't hose her off this morning, she thought.

A good 40 minute drive later, and they pulled up to the large warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They could see one of the side doors cracked open, with an ecstatic looking Ricardo beckoning them over.

Ryan looked back at Chelsea through the wire mesh window separating them. She was shivering in the back seat, her nearly purple nipples looking like they would burst any second under the pressure. They throbbed constantly in waves.

“Are you ready to earn your keep, slut? Anxious to see some of your old friends?”

She started to answer but said nothing. Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“Remember, you were made to serve any cock. Any. You will not refuse any man anything today. If you do, well...I fear for Andy's safety. Understand?”

“...yes, I understand sir.”

— ---------------------------

Mike pulled open the back door of the squad car and grabbed the leash leading to Chelsea's nipple clamps. He roughly yanked her out of the car, to the audible cheers and jeers of the men watching from the warehouse. Chelsea blushed red instantly, all too aware these were people she had worked alongside of.

Yanking her tits out into cones, Chelsea walked faster and followed the lead of her leash, as Mike led her like a dog to the warehouse door. Beckoning them inside, Ricardo took the proffered leash from Mike as he greeted the men.

“Welcome my friends.”

“Ricardo. I trust you have our money?”

“Of course, of course!” he smiled nastily, and quickly pushed an envelope into Ryan's hands.

While Ryan glanced through the envelope, counting the bills, Ricardo pulled straight down on Chelsea's leash, pulling her nipples straight down towards the floor. She cried out and after a moment's struggle dropped to her knees, looking up hatefully at the horrible man.

“You were always too stuck up, even on day one you thought you were better than everyone else” his eyes narrowed, and he spit in her face.

“I thought better of you” she said quietly, a tear rolling down her face.

“I didn't think better of you. I know what you are, whore, and today, you'll know it too” he handed her leash to a bald man behind him, who instantly tugged her to her feet and half dragged her towards a group of about 25 men deeper in the warehouse. His friends brought friends.

“Hey Baby! Don't remember you lookin' this good before!”

“Hot damn those are some nice titties. You like that jewelry princess?”

“Get over here bitch, Daddy's waitin'!”

“We'll be staying and observing. Protection of property and all that.” Mike said. “But you are free to do to her what you like, barring any permanent damage.”

“Of course” Ricardo grinned.

“Also, ” Ryan warned “we are the police in this city. I assure you, if any of you suddenly grow a conscience, no report will get filed. The only thing that will happen is you and your families will disappear. You may want to remind them of that.”

“I already have” Ricardo gulped somewhat nervously. “None of us will talk. This is too good a thing to mess up.”

Ryan smiled. “Then by all means. Have fun.”

— ------------------

Chelsea was being passed around like a basket of breadsticks. In the grip of one large man, he had snaked his tongue down her throat and was pawing at her clamped titties. As she tried not to vomit while his fat, slobbering tongue ran all over her own, her nipples were suddenly yanked hard by the tit leash and she was spinning towards another man. Wasn't his name Pete? And that guy over there was...John I think? She barely recognized only a few of them, having only worked in the warehouse for a week before her abduction.

She didn't have too much time to ponder his name, as he had only just started to play with her generous funbags when someone walked behind her and spanked her hard on the ass.

*Slap!

“Ah! P-please, you all” Slap! “don't have to be so rough...”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Her ass cheeks were suddenly pulled apart, her small asshole winking up at them and she flushed in humiliation. She felt a fat thumb worm its way up inside her. “Ungh!”

Meanwhile, someone was again sticking their tongue down her throat, Chelsea doing her best to kiss him back. She knew if she didn't please these men Ryan and Mike would take it out on her and Andy later.

*Clap! *Clap! *Clap! *Clap! *Clap! *Clap! The thumb up her butt started banging into her, the clapping sound of her ass cheeks filling the room. The men around her in a circle cheered, her burning asshole swallowing the fat digit over and over again.

“Hey man, let's see that pretty pussy!” “Yeah, come on!”

Suddenly thrown to the ground, face down, a boot stepped on her tit leash, not letting her rise more than 2 inches from the floor. Her ass was raised and her legs spread on her knees, another boot briefly bashing down onto the small of her back to arch her prettily, and she was told to hold that position. Kneeling down, an overweight guy pried her sex lips apart, gripping each tightly between his thumb and forefinger, and her cheeks darkened furiously.

Her delicate pink exposed to the men, the air was filled with catcalls and cheers. Changing tactics, the man pushed three fingers of his right hand into her, stretching her walls as Chelsea moaned.

“Ohhh...god” the stretching sensation almost felt good, and she wondered what was wrong with her.

“That's it bitch. Open up for us, you will need to take more than that before the day is over.” With his other hand he pinched her sensitive clit, shaking it roughly side to side for a moment while she squirmed.

He started making a scissoring motion with his fingers, pushing her walls even wider. The rough calloused fingers stimulated her sensitive pink and she moaned. Unable to help herself, she bucked a little on his hand, helping him worm his way even deeper inside.

“Hey look at that, she likes it.”

*Whistle “That cunt is just too damn hot. Hang on a sec!” A younger looking guy ran off to the door, and some of the guys looked after him puzzled. Mike and Ryan stopped him and talked quietly for a second, before letting him pass.

Pushing the fat guy aside, the men took turns fingering her snatch, as Chelsea moaned louder and louder, her body treacherously moistening. She tried to rise up a few times but was always held down fast by her nipples, the crushing pulsing caused by her tit leash not ever abating.

Returning, the young man held a thick looking icicle in his hand, with a dull, but small point. “This will cool that cunt off, we fuck her now, it'd probably burn up our dicks!” The guys laughed and waved him over.

“Wh-what does he have? What are-Ahh! AHH! Don't! NNNNGH!” Chelsea didn't even see it coming as 8 inches of frozen ice was shoved up her steaming fucktube. She writhed and squeezed down on it, trying to push it out.

“T-take it out! Ngh!” They started fucking her in and out with it, the melting water mixing with her own juices. She was definitely nice and wet inside, and her insides ached from the cold as her very womanhood was chilled.

Suddenly using both thumbs, the icicle was shoved all the way up her cunt, and the dull pointed end wedged inside her cervix. Her little womb hole stretched open slightly, swallowing about half an inch of ice, and Chelsea squealed. Laughing, they rotated it back and forth while she bit her lower lip, trying to cope with the pain and freezing cold sensations emanating from her baby factory.

“Unhh!!! Ohhhh!” The scraping ice sunk another quarter of an inch into her womb, dilating the tight little hole a few more millimeters. Her nipples correspondingly stretched a little farther as she tugged on them harder, trying to get up and get away, the boot on her leash still anchoring her to the floor.

“You like that bitch? That feel good?”

“N-no! Ngh! I...I hate it! Ugh! Ungh!” She thrashed wildly, pulling on her tortured nipples, until finally the left clamp, millimeter by agonizing millimeter, slid off the stiff nubbin. Partially free and gasping, she rolled over on her back, and the men laughed. They unclamped her other nipple and pulled the icicle from her icy box, slapping her chilled pussy in admonishment.

Throwing her face up on a nearby work table, they started to slap her pussy again even harder. The blows rang out like thunderclaps, somewhat magnified by the spacious warehouse.

Slap! “Ungh!” Slap! “G-god!” SLAP! “UNGH!”

Her sex lips were rapidly reddening again, the blows causing her warm blood to pound through her delicate sex, bringing warmth and greater sensation. Slap! Slap! Her thighs clamped shut on the hand delivering the last slap, but her legs were promptly wrenched open. Slap! SLAP!

“P-Please! Don't hurt me!” she cried, but her entreaties fell on deaf ears. Suddenly the overweight man from before sat on her stomach, and Chelsea could barely get a breath in, his weight crushing her. He roughly smeared the discarded icicle from before between her tits, briefly pushing it against her nipples to watch them pucker up in protest. With the mixed water and pussy juice coating her cleavage, he maneuvered his cock between her titties and started to titfuck her in earnest.

While fatass was going to town on her tits, another man lined his dick up and suddenly pushed inside her pussy. She reflexively squeezed down on him, milking his cock, and he plowed into her with a vengeance. A small line was forming behind him, everyone eager to partake in her cunt.

He gripped her hips and pumped her womb full of his cum, Chelsea faintly feeling the splash as he did his best to fill her to the brim. The next guy up abruptly shoved his huge dick in her recently baptized cunt once, covering it with her natural lube and making her thighs twitch, and then pushed his cock up into her ass, Chelsea's eyes bulging in her head.

“oh...oh...oh! That hurts!” she complained, finding having her ass reamed to not be a pleasant past time. Fatass finally blew his load between her tits, and her face was covered in the sticky stuff, humiliating her even more. She sobbed when he climbed off her, her breath hitching from her enthusiastic buttfuck. She felt him blow his load up her backside, her bowels filling with cum, and watched dismayed as the next man stepped up, plunging his cock up her sore twat.

How long would it take to satisfy them all?

— ----------------------

Chelsea had been getting fucked for hours and hours. She could only satisfy a few men at a time, so while she was being put through her paces all the other guys could rest and get ready for their next go. Vaginally, anally, orally, she must have taken a gallon of cum by now. Her blonde hair, usually so beautiful, was matted to her face with sweat and cum, painting a nice complement to her tears. Her mouth was slightly bloodied in the corner, a few of the guys slapping some sense into her whenever she got it into her mind to protest her mistreatment.

Her sodden pussy, getting more and more sloppy as time went on, tiredly flexed and writhed around their shafts. Sometimes out of pain, other times out of pleasure, and usually out of both, her intimate feminine muscles wrung the semen from their balls, spasming uncontrollably from so much contracting, only to be forcibly stretched wide open again and again. When her exhausted, loosened fuckhole would be leaking too much cum, they'd occasionally rinse her out with a water bottle. Beginning anew, they would pull her up by her hips and make her lick and suck the wet mess off the filthy floor while they speared into her freshened cunt again. This ensured she had a healthy fluid intake.

Unable to hold it, she really needed to pee twice, and finally resorted to begging to be allowed to go, terrified she would be forced to drink her mess off the floor if she had an accident. Each time she was drug by her ankles to the bathroom, the whole pack of guys going with her, staring at her through the open door and a handful crowding into the stall. Making her stand on the seat, squatted down with her legs spread, she had to pull her glistening swollen lips open and pee, cum occasionally dripping down, while they all taunted her and cheered, the mortified girl wanting to shrink into nothingness.

Resuming their activities, some of the guys were eating sandwiches and drinking coffee, recharging their batteries as they watched her. Chelsea currently had her wrists and elbows taped together behind her back with clear packing tape. This had the effect of pushing her meaty tits out even farther. She was on her knees, sucking off a man sitting on a foldable chair, while another buttfucked her from behind. Her tortured asshole burned under the sodomy, but had thus far successfully swallowed every cock given to it. She couldn't support herself with her hands, so her fuckbags were crushed into the knees of the guy she was blowing, the thrusts into her ass driving her forward.

“Make sure you swallow the load bitch” growled the man in her mouth, and Chelsea moaned an affirmative into his cock. Pushing her nose all the way down to the base, he spurted and whitewashed her throat yet again, as she swallowed and swallowed. He pushed her off his lap to the floor, the guy behind her getting angry when his cock popped out of her shapely butt with a pop!

Thrown up on the table again, her knees were pushed up and back towards her armpits, and her pink pussy, wet with pussy juice and cum, start to open slightly under the pressure.

“ohhhh....” she groaned in pain as they pushed her calves back as well, pushing her legs wide open into a split, her feet nearly touching the table over her head, spread wide. Her hips ached, protesting the tension.

“You look like you could use a pick me up as well, bitch. Here, have some coffee.” Her face blanched white as she saw the man approach, coffee pot in hand. The coffee had been off the burner and so wasn't boiling hot, but it was definitely still steaming.

“n-no, I'm ok really! Don't! Please!” she tried to get up but was held down firmly, her legs still splayed wide, her sex on full display. Four thin pencils were shoved up her cunt, as deep as they would go, and they were each pulled apart in opposite directions, stretching her protesting tube wide open! She grit her teeth as their sharpened points stabbed and scraped her pussy's innermost pink.

Slowly the pot was turned, until a thin stream of hot coffee poured out and landed squarely in her splayed out cunt.

“aaahhHH! Stop! AHHH it's burning me!!!” she wailed loudly as her sex tube slowly started filling up. It was a very light burn, but to Chelsea it felt like she was on fire from the inside. Hot steamy vapors rose up out of her cunt as the water line inched its way up higher and higher.

Filled to the brim and crying piteously, Chelsea could only lay there, held pinned down, her arms taped behind her back. Releasing her legs, her feet sprang back down as the tension was relieved, and she squeezed her cunt muscles and thighs together tightly, curling up halfway on her side. The coffee ran from her in rivulets, and the men laughed at her as she cried, her abused kitty newly sensitized and aching even more.

“Bet you miss your little icicle now, huh bitch?” Laughter rang out over the warehouse floor, and Chelsea closed her eyes. What time was it anyway? Surely they were almost finished now...just a little bit longer.

She was startled from her thoughts when she heard a dog's bark. Ricardo was leading his pet St. Bernard out from the break room, the massive dog sniffing the air. It instantly picked up the smell of her sex with its sensitive nose, already very familiar with the similar fuck-me scent of Ricardo's wife. Chelsea looked at the dog with a growing sense of dread. They didn't expect her to...?

Ryan's words echoed through her memory. 'Remember, you were made to serve any cock. Any.'

Looking alarmed, she was jerked to her feet when a large man grabbed her and started hauling her towards the middle of the warehouse.

“No! No! I won't do it! No!” she struggled and fought against him, but with her arms taped up behind her it was a losing effort. They tried to get her on her knees while Ricardo approached with the dog, but she fought and wiggled with all her strength. Ricardo looked over at Mike and Ryan, and Mike simply nodded at the man, giving his apparent approval for something.

“Bitches fuck dogs, and you are a bitch” Ricardo sneered at her nastily. “Since you don't understand that, we'll have to apply some attitude adjustment.”

Chelsea shivered. “No, I won't fuck a dog! I won't! Sir, please, don't make me do that!” she wailed.

Ricardo looked at her coldly, and simply said “string her up.”

She was hauled upright by two men, a third approaching with thin white rope. With her wrists and elbows taped together behind her, her mouthwatering boobs were thrust forward prominently, begging for attention. Starting with the left boob, he encircled the base of her tit with the rope, and pulled the cinching loop tight. Chelsea gasped.

“Ouch! What are you-ngh!” One man pulled on one end of the rope, and another the other end. Both men pulled with all their strength using both hands, tightening the constricting rope as much as possible. Chelsea's eyes bulged out of her head when they encircled her breast for another wrap. And another. And another.

Pulling and tugging hard, their muscles flexing powerfully, Chelsea's left breast looked like a garroted mushroom, bulging obscenely. She moaned piteously, and watched despairingly as they started to tie her right breast as well. They used the same rope, joining the two trussed up titties together with a short length between them. She could feel her pulse in her tits, the rope so excruciatingly tight she could barely think straight through the throbbing. Behind her, a forklift was being driven up from the back.

“Ohhhh god that hurts! Ohhhh” They hooked the rope running between her breasts to a hooked clevis, which they attached to a strap that they threw around the lift's forks. Holding her so she couldn't run, she watched in almost slow motion as the forks tilted back and began to rise, taking the slack out of the strap. Up and up it extended, until it started to pull up on her cinched breastflesh, stretching her mushroomed tits up from her chest wall.

“Stop, you can't do this! Don't!” she cried, as more and more slack was taken. Finally she stood on her tip toes, barely touching the ground with her feet, her breasts pounding.

And then she was raised even further. Her toes left the floor a good 3 inches, her entire weight hanging suspended from her cruelly restrained fuckbags. Her swollen tips pointed out like little daggers as they inflated under the severe stress.

*Gasp “Ohhhh...” she moaned almost constantly, and nearly passed out when Ricardo pushed her, setting her to lightly swinging.

Using rope and a piece of strut, they fit her with a makeshift spreader bar, forcing her legs wide apart while she hung suspended. Through her tears, she watched the men take their belts off and circle around the dreadful forklift.

“Will you fuck the dog, pretentious bitch?” Ricardo asked her.

“Fuck you!” she screamed at him, not coping with the pain and stress very well.

Smiling, Ricardo took aim first, and swung his belt up squarely between her legs, smacking her right on her delicate pussy lips!

*Crack!

“AAAAIEEE!!”

*Crack! “NNNNGHH!!!!”

*Crack! “AHHHHH”

The men each took turns belting her between the legs, her pretty labia reddening rapidly under the rough onslaught. Her inner tissues already burned and ached from the coffee they poured into her, and now her outer lips were receiving their share of the punishment.

*Crack! “nghh! *Crack! “AHH!” That one hit particularly nastily, angling just right to kiss her little hidden clit. She looked over desperately at Mike and Ryan, hoping they'd do something to help her, but when she caught Ryan's eye she only saw disappointment. Her heart fell, no one would help her now.

They pussy whipped her for a good fifteen minutes, her shaking legs unable to close and protect her sacred entrance. Her tears had no effect on them, and she grunted and groaned with each blow. The chastised pussymeat looked swollen and deeply red when Ricardo held up his hand to stop the session. He leaned towards her, looking up at her face.

“Would you like us to stop strapping your cunt?”

She tried to say yes but her voice cracked, so she nodded pathetically. Snot ran from her nose and her eyes looked swollen.

'Almost as swollen as that cunt' thought Ricardo bemusedly.

They lowered her down, and unhooked her breast harness from the clevis. She sighed audibly as the tension was taken off her bloated titbags, now a deep dark red, threatening to turn purple.

Then she was suddenly flipped upside down, and her spreader bar was hooked into the clevis!

“W-wait! What are you doing! Nooo dooon't!” she cried out, scared of what was happening. Raising her up again, she now hung by her ankles, her legs still spread wide, blonde hair hanging towards the floor.

The young guy who stuffed her with icicle earlier came carrying a box of heavy wooden sorority paddles, pulled from the warehouse shelves. Each man present was given a paddle, and once again, Ricardo had the honor of first strike.

Her bulging titglobes were now the perfect height, and he swung his paddle powerfully into her breast. *Whomp! The jiggling titty danced on her chest, and Chelsea felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs. The blood pounding into her head from her upside down suspension, she watched the next paddle swing towards her before she could get her breath back.

*Whack! Her left breast was crushed, flattening her milk ducts within and setting the unfortunate girl to spinning in a circle. Disoriented and crying out, the men gathered around her like a pinata, smacking her fucksacks with the heavy wood, pounding an exciting rhythm of correction into her sensitive mammal flesh.

*Whomp! “UNGH!” *WHOMP! “UNGGGH!” *whack! *Splat! Her mind reeled, unable to process the pain. She never thought her breasts would be paddled. She never thought she'd be hanging upside down from a forklift either. She giggled to herself, her pain addled brain confusing her, before *WHOMP! “UNGH!” the men helped her find clarity again.

*Whack! *Whack! *Splat! *Whomp! *Whomp! Her cries were music to their ears, her groans and weeping the most powerful of aphrodisiacs. Often she would be set spinning one direction before, *WHOMP! another blow sent her rotating the other way. Her poor mushroomed tits were compressed to pancake thickness over and over again, her pointed breast-rope swollen nipples barbarically pounded into the soft boobflesh below.

She had no idea how long she was up there. It could have been 5 minutes, it could have been twenty. All she knew is she couldn't take it anymore.

*Whack! “unnnghhh! St-stop I'll...” *WHACK! “uhhhhh!”

“What was that whore?” Ricardo asked, watching her intently.

*Whomp! “Ungh!!! I'll f-f-fuck the d-dog...” *Whomp! “ughhhh!”

*WHOMP! “P-PLEASE! I'll f-fuck the dog!!!” *SPLAT! “UngH!”

Motioning for the men to stop, she swung gently back and forth, her momentum dying off.

“Took you long enough, you dumb cunt. I thought we were going to have to turn you into hamburger!” The forklift was lowered and she was taken down, the spreader bar removed from her ankles. Taking a knife, they cut the tape binding her arms behind her back. The strangling breast ropes were also cut free, and the blood began to flow anew into the bruised, brutalized breastflesh.

“Ohhhh God!” she cradled her mauled breasts gingerly, protectively covering them with her hands.

Slap! Slap! Ricardo slapped and backhanded her face, the weakened girl nearly falling over.

“No one said you could cover those fuckbags. Hands off!” She released her titties and nodded, eyes downcast.

“I, however, can!” he smiled as he sunk his long fingers into the aching tits, making her cry out, double checking that she was properly sensitized. Yanking and tugging on her mammaries, he hauled her back to the center of the floor, the massive St. Bernard lying down and watching.

Changing his grip to her nipples, he yanks down hard, making her sink to her knees.

“Well. Get to it then, bitch. Show us. Show us you will fuck a dog.”

*sniff “a-alright.”

Crawling to the dog on hands and knees, eyes watery, she pets his head and the dog looks at her happily. She couldn't be mad at the dog, but it didn't make this any easier.

Blushing all the way to her chest she pushed on his side, rolling him over, exposing his belly. Rubbing it with one hand, she tentatively reached down southward with the other, cupping his balls and gently massaging them. The men surrounding her hoot and holler, laughing at her intimate touch with the beast.

“Go on whore, get his dick wet!”

“You're gonna have to try harder than that!”

A large glass bowl is quickly brought over, and the men start jacking off, watching the spectacle in front of them.

Leaning down over the dog cock, she starts to lick around the entrance to the sheath, poking her tongue within. Moving back out, she licks around his balls and back to the sheath, watching the tip of the red rocket start to poke out. Fastening her lips around it, she sucks gently as it grows, filling more and more of her mouth.

She pops the expanding cock back out and licks the bottom of the shaft all the way down. The dog really liked that and his cock grew exponentially, the dog turning his head and sniffing at her, his back legs pawing the air stupidly.

Sucking him back in, she runs her tongue around his cock and suckles gently, and is treated to a small blast of doggy precum splashing into her mouth. She spits out the cock and gags, but knowing Mike and Ryan are watching her, manages to somehow swallow it down. Wiping her eyes, she leans down and licks the cock along the underside one last time, watching the big knot swelling up, then rolls the dog back over. Stroking themselves, a few of the men cum into the glass bowl as they watch her.

The St. Bernard, cock fully erect, stands behind her as she wiggles her ass in his face. Sticking his cold nose into her snatch, he breathes deeply, sniffing and licking her cunt as she moans. She's totally humiliated and feels like less than dirt as the dog laps at her cunt lips, her abused pussy sending the beginning stirrings of pleasure to her tired brain. She arches her back and leans her ass back, forehead resting on her clenched hands, and the dog's tongue starts to penetrate her, lapping up her juices within.

Having decided this was indeed a female with perfectly acceptable reproductive organs, the dumb dog jumps up onto her back and mounts her. She rises up to all fours, supporting both their weight as the large heavy dog stabs wildly with his cock, hoping one of the attempts will succeed and nestle himself inside her. She precariously holds them both up with one arm while using the other to quickly reach back between her legs, and guides the flailing cock into her pussy.

Feeling the tight constriction of her wet cunt, the dog knows he's hit home. He starts pumping fast and with a vengeance, his massive St. Bernard cock fully penetrating her and stretching her cunt open like a jackhammer. The men cheer as she is rutted like a bitch in heat, which of course she was.

The dog didn't hold out long, and starts flooding her cunt with watery canine cum, it running in little streams from her wetly squelching pussy. Chelsea cried and squeezed down with her pussy muscles, intimately pulling the spasming cock deeper into her. Seemingly unaffected by having just cum, the dog keeps rutting away, pounding her delicate sex box harder and harder, her breasts swinging wildly underneath her.

With dog cum running down her leg, the St. Bernard gives a mighty lunge and she feels the massive knot at the base of his cock wedging itself into her cunt. Startled, she tried to wiggle her hips away slightly but the dog is having none of it. Again and again he bashes his knot into her, as her lips stretch thinly, attempting to swallow the monster. She was still swollen from her earlier cunt strapping, making her entrance that much tighter.

“N...no! He's going to...ungh! UNGH!” hot tears flowing down her face, Chelsea squeals as the massive knot pops into her hungry pussy, the lips elastically snapping shut over the fat bulb. She groaned, the dog felt so deep inside her, and the knot kept twitching and sliding back and forth a little, the dog still trying to hump her while fully knotted. The dog cum running down her leg lessened somewhat, as the fat knot did its job and tried to plug the bitch up, sealing the potent cum within. Her womb was completely soaked with his cum, and she could feel it sloshing deep inside her as he came again.

During this whole ordeal, the men watching her have been slowly filling up the glass bowl with their own man cream. Chelsea, fully knotted and twitching, clawed her nails on the ground as the panting dog tried to dismount but was stuck by his knot. He spins around completely and his ass touches hers, and as he pulls she groans at the stress on her cunt.

Recalling how his useless struggling wife would often get stuck, Ricardo grabs the beast's collar, tugging him away from her, but Chelsea just moans and slides back with him, his knot pulling on her stuffed pussy.

“Hold up man, we'll hold her still!”

Two men kneel down in front of her head and each grab a handful of Chelsea's weighty hanging breastmeat. Squeezing tightly with her nipples pressing into their palms, their fingers digging into her underboobs as they crush her entire bosom, the two guys lean backwards as Ricardo and the dog tug the other way.

“UgggghhhH!!” *sob

All color drained from her sex lips and they look like they are about to split as the knot starts to exit, her entrance tightly wrapping over the wide fleshy bulb. Seeing that's it's going to come free, one of the guys rushes over with the glass bowl and holds it between her legs, under her sopping, swollen tight cunt. The guys redouble their grip on her paddled titties and tug harder, using their weight and leg muscles, and Chelsea loudly whimpers.

With a wet sucking sound, the dog finally pops free, and her spasming cunt dribbles copious amounts of dog cum into the bowl.

Debased and completely degraded, she doesn't even say anything when they sit her back upright, resting on her knees, watery cum still leaking onto the floor between her legs underneath her. Ricardo raises a nearly full glass bowl to her lips, the smell of the mixed cum powerfully assaulting her senses, and she slightly opens her mouth, a tear rolling down her cheek. She worked with a lot of these people.

The bowl is upturned, the thick white cum sliding down into her mouth, filling it completely. He stops pouring.

“Tilt your head back. Gargle like the slut you are.” Eyeing him through half-lidded eyes, she does as she's told, and starts to gargle the cum. Thick white bubbles froth up around her lips and gently pop, as she stares at them all, totally defeated. While she gargled, one guy wiped her cunt and the cum off the floor with a rag and wrung it out over her bowl. No reason to leave a mess behind.

“Swallow.” Closing her mouth, she gulps and nearly vomits, but pushes the feeling down. She has to gulp twice more to empty her mouth, and when she's finished she opens her mouth to once again accept the bowl's contents.

“Swallow this time. Keep swallowing. Good.” She drinks from the bowl like it was soup broth, and her stomach starts to feel fuller and fuller. She tries to not think about what she is doing.

“Stop. Gargle.” Filling her mouth up, she begins blowing little air bubbles again, the taste of everyone's cum washing over her. Her tonsils, her throat, some bubbling up her nasal passage...so much cum. Standing over her, each of the 25 men spit into her gargling mouth, adding more fluid to her tasty drink. Some of it was brown-tinged from chewing tobacco, and some thick with mucus. It didn't matter; all was added.

“Swallow.” It felt slimier than the last mouthful, and had an even worse aftertaste. Slowly she works it all down, gulping twice to clear her mouth. She gasps when she opens her cum-glistening lips again, tears silently dripping down her cheeks.

The half empty bowl is lowered to her waiting mouth once more.

— -----------------------

Mike and Ryan were walking through the icy parking lot heading for the squad car, a tit-leashed Chelsea once again being pulled along after them by her most convenient handholds; her nipples.

Her tits elongated and tugged her along, and she walked unsteadily as she tried to keep up. She was still in mild shock, a sort of sexual PTSD, and couldn't wait to just get in the car.

“So, slut. You didn't want to fuck the dog, did you?” Ryan stated.

“...no sir.” she answered quietly.

“Do you remember what I told you? That you serve all cocks?”

“yes sir.”

“What part of that didn't you understand? Tell me, do you think you would have been spared some pain if you didn't resist?”

“...yes sir.”

“So what lesson have you learned today?”

“....that I'm a fucktoy, sir.”

Nodding, Ryan opened the back door as Mike got into the drivers seat. Shoving her in, they drove away, heading back home...with the rear windows cracked open.

— -------------------

“Slut, it's time to exercise! Go get your workout stuff.”

Chelsea had just put a pot roast in the oven, her hair tied back in a messy bun, naked except for her little apron. Mike sat at the kitchen table, watching her. Sighing quietly, her face reddened slightly as she stripped off her apron and set it in the kitchen drawer. Walking to the fridge, she took our her stored, already filled water bottle from the back, then followed Mike to the living room.

In the corner was a box labeled “Fucktoy's Athletic Wear” next to a treadmill, a gift from Mike and Ryan to keep her in shape. It had been 2 weeks since her...acquisition, and she was expected to stay fit. She sat down in front of the box and pulled out some socks and a pair of pink sneakers, which she put on. Next she pulled out a fat, gleaming black buttplug and a very thin crotch strap.

“...it looks bigger sir” she said dejectedly, looking at the flared head with disdain.

“It is. You've been taking the other one so well that it was obviously too small. I want my fuckdoll to feel full.” The old smaller plug used to take her 5 minutes to insert, with plenty of lube...it was hardly easy. Her eyes started to water slightly.

“What do you say?”

“thank you sir.”

“For what?”

“...for thinking of me sir.”

She took the lube out of her box and coated the monster thoroughly, dreading the attempt. Bending over and lining the plug up with her little asshole, she pushed and tried to relax her butt. The plug sank in a little as the flared head stretched her, but not enough to slide in.

“Ugh. It's....there's no way!” Grunting and groaning, she pushed and wiggled the plug, her ass refusing to let more than half the plug slide up into her.

“I suggest you find a way, you dumb cunt.” Mike looked at her coldly, and Chelsea felt a pang of panic.

“Yes sir, I will, d-don't worry!” Looking around, she ran over to a bar stool in the corner and set the plug upright on the seat. Climbing up, she lined up that fat head between her cheeks again and sat down, using her body weight to her advantage.

“Ungh! Goddddd!” She sank a little lower, refusing to lift back up, putting a constant, terrible pressure on her asshole. She bit her lip in pain as slowly the widening head inched its way in, the tight ring of her butt nearly around the fat, tapered middle. So close!

Moaning and starting to sweat, she wiggled and bounced and tried desperately to relax her butt. Mike, watching bemusedly, walked up in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. She looked at him in panic.

Shoving her down roughly, her ass smacked into the stool hard with a thud!

“UNGH!!! AAIIIII!!!!”

Chelsea wailed as the tight ring of her butt snapped around the more narrow tapered end. Her ass had never felt so full, it was like she had a balloon up there! She sniffled once and looked at him with wet eyes, her voice cracking.

“God it hurts sir! I can't do this!”

“You are fine. Next time you will do it entirely yourself. Understand?”

“I....yes sir, I understand.”

“Finish getting dressed.”

Walking like she had something too big up her backside, which she did, she shuffled over and picked up the thin crotch strap. She fit the waist strap around her hips, then ran the center strap down between her legs, through the tiny eyelet on the butt plug, and back up to her waist again. She went and stood in front of Mike, as required. She couldn't be trusted to tighten it properly.

He pulled her waist strap down tight, making sure it wouldn't slide down her hips. Then he pulled the middle strap even tighter, using both hands and practically lifting her off the floor. She yelped and her thighs squirmed as it split her labia, laying directly over her little clit hood.

“10 miles. Get started.”

— --------------------------

*smack *smack *smack *smack

Chelsea gasped for air over and over as her body glistened wetly, the sound of her flopping titbags filling the room. She was on mile 9, with Mike sitting on the couch watching TV as she ran.

“Officer Mike....*gasp...sir...sir! *gasp” she looked like she wasn't going to last much longer. Maybe she needs to do this more often, he thought.

“Hmmm?” he raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

“Can I slow down sir? Please?” she huffed, her face pale. She was practically running full speed, her little pink sneakers a blur. She felt lightheaded and was sure she was going to pass out any second. Her dancing titties ached deeply as well, smacking themselves over and over again onto her ribcage. What really bothered her the most though was what was going on between her pumping thighs.

Her sweaty petals and poor clit rubbed and chafed incessantly against the wetly gleaming black strap, it felt like it was trying to saw her in half. The massive plug up her stuffed butt gave her horrible cramps, and her running gait actually looked a little funny, like her legs weren't quite working properly.

“You can slow down, but instead of running ten miles you will have to jog to 15. With your weights.”

“T-thank you sir” her hand shot to the controls, and she quickly paused the treadmill, her lips parting as she breathed heavily. Her heart dropped. This may have been a worse idea, she berated herself for not sucking it up.

God her ass ached. Pushing the thought aside, she quickly went to her little box and took out the nipple clamps with the 1 pound lead balls. Gritting her teeth, she opened the jaws and quickly snapped it onto her left breast.

“*gasp nnnngh!” Moving quickly to get it over with, and avoid Mike's ire, she opened up the second clamp and quickly released it onto her other nipple.

“nnnngh!!!!” Tendrils of shooting pain lanced their way through her poor boobs into her brain, the throbbing concentrated on her nearly exploding tit tips. Getting back on the treadmill, she started a brisk jog. She was on mile 9, and needed to get to mile 15 now.

Immediately she regretted her complaint. It was a little easier for her to breathe now but the heavy lead balls tugged mercilessly on her nipples.

“ah! ah! ohh! ah!” she made little noises with every step, the heavy flopping resuming but with a different trajectory. Whereas before her funbags danced wildly on her chest, they were now guided by her stretched taut nipples, the heavy lead balls launching upwards before crashing down again. They yanked her breasts straight down and pulled viciously on the very roots of her tits, while the undersides crashed into her chestwall. It was awful... To think she used to wear sports bras.

Mike changed the channel and glances at her, keeping tabs on her struggle. He did get hard watching her, he'd have to fuck the slutty little tart later for sure.

As time wore on, and the smell of the cooking pot roast filled the room, Chelsea's tits ached more and more. She wasn't sure she would even be able to touch them the rest of the day without serious discomfort. A few times she stumbled and almost lost her footing, and the lead balls punished her extra hard in response, making her clench her stretched ass on the big plug while she moaned.

At mile 14 she began to see hope. Wanting to get it over with, she turned the speed up again and started running, the extra force converting to pain in her tits and ass. Mike looked at her and smiled. He knew she was just trying to shorten her suffering, but he was still impressed with her fortitude.

Chelsea wanted to cry as she neared mile 15. She had to keep running, she hated this whole damn thing and she had to get it over with! She grit her teeth and her boobs throbbed angrily, the cramps in her bowels rising to new levels. When that god damn little number finally changed to 15, she nearly shouted in relief. She shut the treadmill off.

Gasping and wheezing, she stepped off the machine and bent over, hands on her knees. Her sweaty body glistened under the lights, moisture dripping from her nose and clamped nipples.

“Well done slut. Take your gear off and do your cool down stretches. Don't forget to hydrate.”

“yes sir, I will.” Moaning, Chelsea unclamps her nipples, the blood rushing back into her abused girly bits. Her tits had a deep soreness to them, but if she left them alone she knew they'd recover. They'd certainly been through worse.

“Ahh! Ahhhh!”

She had to pull her crotch strap slightly tighter to release the clasp, and it rubbed viciously against her clit before popping free. She soothingly rubbed her labia for a moment, before arching her back and grasping the base of the fat butt plug. Pushing with her ass and pulling with both hands, her asshole once again starts to widen over the flared head.

“Unngh! Ahh UGHHH!” She moans loudly as she pulls, the tight hole widening, but loses her grip and the plug sinks back inside her. Frustrated, she tries again, and by wiggling it from side to side manages to pop the monster out. She felt instant relief and also strangely empty, her asshole opening and closing slightly as it winked. She quickly takes the plug to the kitchen and washes it clean, and sets all her gear back in her box.

She's dying of thirst, and resignedly picks up her water bottle. Ryan had made a deal with a sperm bank in the city, and would acquire the old, expired sperm that was going to be thrown away. Chelsea was forced to mix half water half thawed cum together, and that was her drink when she was working out. It took five decades for frozen sperm to expire, so she was actually regularly guzzling down 50 year old man cream.

She shakes the bottle to keep it mixed, then unscrews the cap, eyeing the disgusting looking watery mixture. The smell of cum wafts up into her nostrils, and she grimaces. Putting the edge to her lips, she drinks a few sips, getting used to the taste, slightly off compared to fresh cum. She's so thirsty and knows this is her only option, so she drinks deeply, swallowing a good 6 times before putting the cap back on. She feels sick but she is getting better at pushing that feeling aside. Wiping her mouth, she licks her fingers clean, as required, while Mike watches.

She drops to the floor and goes through her stretch routine, stretching out her aching hamstrings, thighs, calves. Mike watches avidly, enjoying the show, especially when she touches her toes and does the splits. She rolls her neck and pulls back on her fingers, then stands up and looks at Mike.

“I'm all done sir.”

“So you are. Bring me your bag of vegetables.”

“S-sir?”

“It's important to have good nutrition, not just work out.”

“...o-okay.”

She brings him a plastic bag from the fridge, full of cold fresh vegetables. Pushing her down onto the coffee table in front of the couch he is sitting on, he spreads her legs and looks directly at her pouting pussy. It's slightly red from the chafing crotch strap earlier.

She blushes, feeling his gaze as he stares at her exposed girlhood.

*Slap! *Slap! He slaps her thighs roughly, making her spread even wider.

He leans close and blows on her sex lips, making her shiver. *SLAP! “ungh!” He spanks her hard right on her cunt, the girl jumping but somehow keeping her legs opened. He loved the sounds she makes.

*SLAP! “ungh” SLAP! “UGH!” SLAP! “UGH please Sir!”

Smiling, he rummages through the bag of vegetables. He did enjoy shopping in the produce section these days. "I know your pussy is always hungry, little fuckslut. Remember the days when you used to stuff it with carrots?"

"I didn't stuff it..." she blushed, recalling how she told him she had taken her own virginity with the little orange vegetable. "It was j-just one..." She fidgeted her thighs nervously, not liking where this was going. She wished he would stop staring between her legs.

"Just one carrot? Those dark, nutrient deficient days are behind you sweetheart. I'll make sure that tight little twat is plenty full."

He pulled out a weird looking, skinny yellow squash. A slightly bulbous base thinned out to a skinny neck, that turned abruptly at the last inch 45 degrees. The ugly little thing was covered in rough looking bumps.

He leaned down and licked her slit bottom to top, and Chelsea shuddered. Poking his tongue in the entrance, he lapped gently and sucked on her clit. The whole point was to get her lubricated, not to please her, so he stopped when he felt her shift her hips.

Slap! "Unh!" he spanked her pussy again, killing her arousal. "Time for your snack, whore."

He lined up the funny looking squash and touched the bulb to her entrance. Pressing insistently, he twisted the squash back and forth, worming the widest part between her glistening sex lips.

"uh!" While not terribly wide, the bulb did give her snug little entrance a small, somewhat achey stretch. Despite everything that got shoved up inside her these days, she was still tight. If she had been worked up to it longer, maybe fingered a bit, it probably wouldn't have bothered her as much.

Pushing a little harder, the widest part sank past her entrance and into her an inch.

"Well that was easy" admonished Mike. "You really are a loose whore, aren't you?"

"No...it's just...ungh!" He pushed the vegetable in hard, shoving all 5 inches into her. The bulb on the end stretched her as it traveled down the length of her tube, the rough bumps giving her weird sensations.

"It's just that you're a fucktoy. Is that right?"

"...yes. I'm a fucktoy." A depressed look crossed her face, and Mike started pumping the squash in and out slowly.

Twisting it, he rotated his wrist and changed the angle, pushing the bulb downward towards her ass within her cunt while her toes curled. He worked her with deep, penetrating strokes.

“So, whose fucktoy are you?” he questioned her, curious how she'd respond.

“Y-yours Sir...and Officer Ryan's” was that a real question? Her pussy squeezed and her neck flushed, God that was feeling good.

“Well yes that's true, but it's a little more...Soviet than that.” He chuckled, still plumbing her depths with the squash. “It's more like you're 'Our Fucktoy.' Remember your lessons at the warehouse?”

“yes” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, breathing heavily.

Picking up speed, he gets a little more vigorous with her. "unh...unh...unh" her ravished sex moistened more, her juices thoroughly coating the squash. The bumps felt so good, and as her pussy opened up it began to ache less. Her moans took on a distinctly more wanton tone, and he pushes it in completely, letting the angled end nestle snugly against her clit. She lustfully humped twice against his hand, embarrassed at her involuntary reaction, but so close.

That was enough of that. Time to get serious.

He wetly pulled the ugly thing from her as Chelsea raised her head to see what he was doing now.

"Yes, I can tell you like the squash, but that sloppy cunt needs to swallow more than that. Would you prefer 3 cucumbers or 4?"

Her eyes bulged in their sockets. Was he serious?

"I....I..."

"Best choose quickly whore, or I might choose for you."

"Th-three" she stammered. "B-but I don't think I can-"

Slap! He spanks her pussy again and her breath hitches, shutting her up and killing any previous pleasure. Why'd he always have to do that?! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! He smacks 3 more times into the frustrated pussy, denying her the cum. She writhed miserably.

He pulls three cucumbers from the bag, each long, girthy, and appropriately phallic shaped. Stopping and thinking for a moment, he pulls the fourth out as well.

"In case you piss me off." She blanched a little whiter, but said nothing.

Since she was already nice and wet, he didn't need to waste any time getting started. Abruptly and without warning, he guides the first thick cucumber to her sex lips and shoves the entire length in all at once!

"Ngh! Owww" she had already started to tighten up a little again and the abrupt insertion caught her off guard. Her thighs snapped shut around his hand and her cunt squeezed tightly, spasming on the long vegetable, the end rubbing up against her womb.

"Open your legs, you damn whore! Now!" He still had his hand around the cucumber, and started twisting it roughly as he yelled at her, grinding the end into her cervix.

"I'm s-sorry sir!" she shakily opens her legs, her pussy lewdly squelching as he punished her tender love nook.

He fucks her with it for about a minute, the savage strokes making her buck, then shoves it back in all the way. Noticing how she was fucking back a little, he viciously pinches her clit with his nails and yanks on it hard over and over, determined to wipe out her unwanted arousal. Her whimpers made him hard.

Pushing two fingers in alongside the end of the cucumber, he pushes it hard to the left, and lines up the second cucumber with the little too-small gap that appeared.

"I don't think-Ah! Ungh!" He jams it forward roughly, jabbing her with the fat end. Her slick labia stretch thinly, the right lip slipping tightly over the new attacker. Holding the first cucumber in with his left hand, he pushes on the new one with his right, leaning into it with his body weight, pushing, twisting.

"Ungh! Godddd! Ngh!!" Chelsea's cunt widened painfully, the slow, inexorable insertion making her fist fly up to her mouth. She bit her finger hard, nearly drawing blood. Her pussy juiced nicely in an anguished attempt to cope, but she was just too damn tight. Her aching tube leaked copiously around the two vegetables, her shiny clear fluids running down over her lower asscheeks. Giving a final push, leaning in hard, the second cucumber was fully seated.

"You're looking pretty full, cunt. Only one more to go!"

"No! Please! It - ungh! god - it hurts so much! I can't take another!! I can't!" she whined and complained, shifting her thighs and trying to ignore the radiating throbbing coming from her violated pussy. Hot tears flowed down her face; she really was afraid she would tear open if he tried to fit another.

"Don't be stupid. Of course you can; women deliver babies do they not?" he laughed at her. "We aren't quite to baby levels yet but we'll get pretty close!"

He leaned in and looked at the stuffed cunt, the two fat cucumbers side by side. "See, right here. A third would fit nicely right on top, between these two. Like a little pyramid."

"No, it won't fit! Don't do it! Please!"

Our Fucktoy can be so damn whiney.

Ignoring her begging, he grabbed the third cucumber. Holding it up to her mouth, he made her suck on it. This was going to be a tight fit. Pulling the newly glistening cucumber from her mouth, he knelt down between her legs again.

He pushed the tip just below her clit, right above the other two nestled vegetables. She groaned in anticipation, running her fingers through her hair. She had to listen to him, for her brother's sake, but... she hated him so much...and she hated herself too. She was a stupid whore.

He leaned in hard, pushing it with both hands, but that thick cucumber didn't budge. He pulled on the left labia, wiggled the cucumber in a bit, then pulled on the right, trying to get it started. Pushing at a downward angle, he shoved again, and smiled as a half inch sank into her, her breath hitching loudly.

"NGh! OWww oww!" He shoved again, twisting and pushing, and her voice raised an octave as it slowly began its dreadful ascent up her full to bursting birthing tube.

"OWW! GOD STOOOP!" Three inches. Four inches. Five. Her legs shook as more and more of the rigid vegetable squeezed in alongside its brothers. It moved slowly as it bored into her, but it couldn't be stopped, Mike leaning in heavily with both his hands, never giving her a reprieve, up and up and up. And then, just when she thought she would lose her mind, it happened. It bottomed out. The bitch had taken 3 large cucumbers, her cunt completely stuffed full, tormented marvelously as it ached and throbbed, screaming at her. Her ass cheeks and thighs glistened at him, completely soaked with her desperate juices.

Gasping and hyperventilating, she covered her face with both her hands, her body writhing, unable to stay still. Seeing the perfect opportunity for the finishing touch, he quickly opens a package of baby carrots, lining up one of the little tapered orange veggies with her urethra. Chelsea was so distracted she didn't notice, not even looking at him with her hands on her face.

"It's your favorite, slut. Carrots!"

Smiling gleefully, he nudges the pointy end in and smacks the little carrot with his palm in one smooth motion, shoving it up her peehole. It was only 2 inches long, but that was plenty long for Chelsea. Burning pain radiated from her tiny tube, another addition to the straining pain coming from between her thighs. Her little hole was stretched wider than it should ever be, stuffed full somewhere that should never be stuffed...

“NNNNAAIAIII!!!” She squeals loudly, banging her head on the table and struggling anew. He grasps the little end sticking out and gently twists it back and forth. The tendons in her wet thighs stood out like cords as her legs snap shut on his hand, then pop open again in fear, then shut. No longer clutching her face, her right hand shoots down between her closed legs and clasps his wrist, too afraid to push it away but gripping him tightly.

“It's just one carrot” he laughs at her, mocking her. “How bad could it be?” It wasn't just the carrot, though that was ghastly enough. It was all of it adding together, her whole cunt felt shattered, ripped apart.

Knowing she shouldn't but unable to help herself, her legs squeeze together even more tightly. She involuntarily kept clenching her cunt in agony, which caused even more unwelcome stress to the overextended muscles. Crying openly, her nails dug into his wrist in a death grip, not realizing she was drawing a small amount of blood.

"Bitch, what do you think you're doing?"

"UNNNGH it hurts! Ohhhhhh" she was so focused on all the stretching pain she didn't process his words.

"Cunt. CUNT!" He reached up and slapped her face hard, snapping her face to the left. Dazed, she looked at him, teary eyed and still groaning.

"Let. My. Fucking. Hand. Go."

She looked stricken, realizing she fucked up. Her tensed fingers quickly release him, her shaking thighs slightly parting.

"I-I'm sorry Sir! I'm s-so sorry! It just h-hurts so much and I didn't...” she shuts up, white faced, fully expecting him to do something horrid to her, to somehow put her into an even deeper hell. She stared at him with wide eyes, moaning and twitching in her chock-full distress.

Mike considers her for a minute, her gorgeously stuffed pussy, the terror in her eyes. He knows it was an accident. “You know what. You're a good fuckdoll.” He pats her on her sweaty head.

The pain was clearly making her hallucinate now. She got even more frightened when he smiled at her.

“I...Sir I r-really am s-so so sorry please don't-”

“Really. You're learning to accept what you are. And you are taking all your veggies so well, even though you hate them. It's put me in a good mood.” Standing up, he went and got himself a beer, then sat in his favorite chair and flicked on the TV again. She didn't move an inch.

“I want you to squeeze down as hard as you can. Try your best to make those vegetables burst. Do that for 5 minutes or so, then you can take them out and check on the pot roast.” He could be nice sometimes.

Her agonized voice tentatively answered him. “...T-thank you s-so much Sir!”

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.

Domesticating The Fucktoy Pt. 2

Synopsis: Chelsea painfully adapts to her new forced life as a plaything.

— ----

Chelsea really was becoming quite adept in the kitchen. Her doting owners, Mike and Ryan, the two corrupt cops that had kidnapped her four months ago, would spoil her with new ingredients and recipes for her to try her hand on all the time. She had a book propped open on the counter, turned to the page titled “Chocolate Drizzle and Truffle Torte.” She pushed some blonde locks of hair out of her gently swaying face, her eyes having trouble focusing on the moving words, and groaned.

Wearing nothing but tall red heels, a tiny backless apron, and a disheveled hair bun, the flustered girl was having her cunt fucked by a wide metal whisk. She stood on one trembling leg while the other was spread wide up onto the counter top, while Ryan stood behind her and stroked the cooking implement into her quivering sex at a leisurely pace. She was half bent over the countertop at a large bowl, her head turned to read the book, and she was surrounded by ingredients.

“Talk to me slut. What does the recipe call for?”

“nnngh.. i-it...it needs eggs, b-butter...”

Her pussy lips stretched wide as he nearly pulled the entire whisk from her, the fat bulb gaping her sensitive flesh open for view, before being pushed forward again, slowly ascending up inside her and banging into her cervix. By now she was more accustomed to being cunt-stuffed than not, but they always managed to humiliate her with new, weird insertions.

“..sugar, c-cream..unh! oww a-almonds!” As she repeated the ingredients to him, he bottomed out the whisk and rotated it roughly, the fat mesh construction sending bizarre, full stretching sensations through her. It also hurt, the end smashing mercilessly against her womb, making her face wince. Satisfied, he slowly pulls it back out again, starting the whole process anew.

“So what are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Get started!” While she reached out with shaky fingers he continued pumping her cunt, the stiff smooth wires of the whisk sinking into the walls of her tight, elastic flesh. Keeping her leg on the counter and herself open to him, she measured out some sugar and dumped it into the bowl. Her shapely ass cheeks jiggled every time he bottomed the whisk out, his right hand putting pressure on it while his left hand tightly gripped her raised thigh.

This seemed to go on forever to Chelsea. When she needed to walk to the fridge to get some milk, Ryan sighed and let her drop her leg back down to the floor, the whisk still jammed up inside her, the handle slightly poking out between her legs.

“You wouldn't need to get milk if your fuckbags weren't so god damn useless, would you?” She flushed red, and stammered out a “No sir.” Well, no matter. They were working on that problem.

She shuffled awkwardly to the fridge, pulled out the milk, and added it to the mix.

“What are you doing? Get that leg back up on the counter!”

“Sorry sir!” she again raises her trembling leg and exposes her quivering sex to him, and he gets back to his own work, twisting the whisk back and forth, prying it side to side. Because the hollow whisk held her open, her juices would occasionally drip down onto the floor. He'd make her lick it up later. She awkwardly bent over the cake mix as she added the final ingredients.

“Okay Sir, I j-just n-need to mix the-Aii!” Ryan had released the whisk and jammed his thumb up her ass. She squealed but didn't otherwise protest, not even when he worked in his other thumb beside it and started prying the little hole open, her full cheeks filling his hands.

“You may use the whisk now.” Embarrassed, she reached between her legs and pulled the whisk out, sighing in relief at the empty sensation. Ryan pulls his thumbs from her ass and slaps it, before sticking them in her mouth one at at time.

While she sucked his thumbs clean, fighting back the retching feeling, she mixed the cake with the pussy-juice coated whisk. Her tits jiggled heavily under her thin apron, and Ryan pulls his thumb from her mouth with a faint pop.

A few minutes later the cake batter was baking in the oven, and Chelsea turned to her other duties for the day.

“You might need that whisk again later. Rinse it off and put it back up inside that whorish fuckbox of yours. And lick up the mess you've made.” She knelt down quickly and licked up the secretions that had dripped to the floor, her own scent filling her nose.

He made her rinse the batter off the whisk before shoving it up inside her again, so she walked a little bowlegged as she went to gather her cleaning supplies.

She had pulled off her apron, leaving her naked, and started to pull on a pair of latex gloves so she could start cleaning the house when Ryan stopped her. “Aren't you forgetting something?” Her heart dropped a little. She knew exactly what it was time to do, but had hoped he had forgotten.

Sighing, she pulls her gloves off. “I'm sorry Sir. I'll go get everything ready.”

Mike and Ryan had decided they wanted her lactating, and thus put her on a routine of hormone injections, paid for by the money they had made whoring her out at the old warehouse. She went and gathered the sterile needles, her 'medicine, ' and a ball of twine. God she hated that twine.

She set everything down on the dining room table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and groaned. The little handle poking out from the whisk shoved up her cunt rested on the chair, pushing the wire cage up against her cervix, but she knew better than to complain. She threw her arms over the back of the chair behind her, her plump sweatermeat pushed forwards with her shoulders rolled back. Her back arched slightly, and she waited.

She waited a good fifteen minutes, Ryan having gone to get his buddy Mike from outside, who had been mowing the lawn. The two cooled down a bit drinking some beers in front of her, completely ignoring her existence. After a bit, they turned their attention towards her, Chelsea not having moved from her required position, her womb throbbing.

“Alright slut, I know you're anxious to address your barren milkbags. How's your sensitivity?”

She didn't want 'to address' anything, she was perfectly fine with not producing any milk. The way she saw it, it would just be something else the pair would use against her.

“They're still a little tender from last week sir” she answered sadly.

*Slap!

Mike slapped her right breast hard, and her yelp confirmed the veracity of her words. She bit her lower lip as a tear formed in her eye. “I see what you mean. I know it hurts bitch, but it's for the best. Your breastmeat is useless as it is, but your medicine will get everything back on track.”

While he spoke to her, Ryan filled a syringe with her 'medicine.' It was simply a hormone cocktail designed to induce lactation in women, but they would always heavily water it down to reduce its effectiveness. They saw no reason to cut their fun short with her treatments, after all, and her milk production was steadily increasing as the weeks went by, albeit at a snail's pace.

She knew they put something bad in it, but wasn't sure what. Right now it was four parts 'filler' to one part actual treatment. The filler, unfortunately for Chelsea, was salt water and nettle extract. He prepared two gleaming syringes, one with a short needle, the other nearly twice as long.

Mike picked up the ball of twine and looked at her. “Will we have to restrain you today?”

“No sir!” she answered hurriedly. Last time they had to do that, they had caned her breasts afterwards in admonishment. “I will keep my hands behind the chair!”

“See that you do.” Forming a slipknot with the twine, he loops it around her left breast, pulling the jiggling boob forward roughly by her nipple, until the loop was snug around the base. Looking her in the eye, he pulls the twine tight with all his strength.

“Ungh!” the loop cinches tightly closed and her tit mushroomed out, the flesh rapidly turning a light pink color. He loops the tit a few more times and ties it off, ignoring her groaning.

Repeating the process on her right breast, both titties are soon captured by the rough twine, the tender breastflesh roughly strangled. Her nipples stood out like little pellets, unable to soften under the pressure. Ryan stood by with the short needled syringe, grinning.

“Remember, hands behind the chair. Tell me why, slut.”

“Because I'm a good fucktoy sir..” her voice quavered, pushing down the panic she felt as Mike's hand descended to her nipples. She tightly gripped the chair back.

Gripping each nubbin painfully tight, Mike pulls her udders up, threatening to lift the chair's feet from the floor while Chelsea moaned. The heavy undersides of her womanly chest jiggled, the soft curves peppered with light red dots from previous injections. The marks were slow to heal.

Kneeling down, Ryan lines up the shorter needle and quickly jabs it straight up into the soft curving underboob, the sharp point disappearing instantly at his abrupt, stabbing insertion. Chelsea hissed but remained still, her knuckles white, and Ryan emptied the syringe's contents into the fleshy titbag. Pulling it out, he refills it and lines it up again for a second time with the same breast, piercing the underside in one smooth, heartless motion.

“Ngh! Oww, oww oww” she whimpers, and can feel the beginning pangs of the ache to come as her nerves become aware of the contents of her 'medicine.' Ryan refills the syringe twice more to infuse her other breast as well, with the same level of gentleness.

*Stab! “nggh! oh...” the gleaming little needle reached just short of the center of her orbs, and its removal was just as quick and abrupt as its insertion. It left a growing, hollowed out burning sensation behind.

While he began to prepare the long needled syringe, Mike roughly shakes her tits by her nipples, her jiggling flesh dancing as he 'stirred' up the remedy within her.

“Ouch! S-sirs, please, do we have to -ah!- use the long needle thiiis tiiMME?” Her voice rose an octave as he excessively twisted the sensitive tit tips, spiraling the funbags into twisted cones. By now her tits were already burning inside, and she knew it was about to be even worse.

“Of course we do” answered Ryan, winking at her. “You don't want to jeopardize the effectiveness of your treatments, do you?”

“ahhh I...no Sir” she struggled find words that wouldn't piss him off, her pain addled brain failing her. She just had to go along with him, or she would suffer more.

Mike moved behind her and changed his grip, filling his hands with her titties. He squeezed down powerfully on the already strangled globes, his fingers sinking into her and making her cunt squeeze tightly on the whisk. Ryan lined up the long syringe with her right nipple.

In contrast with her underside injections, he opted for an agonizingly slow and steady piercing. Slowly the glinting sharp tip sank its way into the center of her nipple, down into the very core of her sensitive breastmeat, and Chelsea's breath hitched loudly. Her back arched further, and her head hung backwards, her lips parted on her wincing face.

“Oh! OHH god that huuuurts!” she wriggled in her seat, still desperately clutching the the seat back, Mike helping to hold her still by her tits. The needle's length was carefully chosen, allowing Ryan to fully seat the heartless steel through the very center of her breast nearly to the chest wall. Once it was finally fully embedded, he began to extract the needle while depressing the plunger, the stinging hormone, salt water, and nettle concoction spreading into her delicate mammary glands. The tight twine around the bases of her tits severely constricted her circulation, ensuring her medicine would stay in the tissues for some time, marinating in her milkbags.

“Ahh...nggggh!” he pulls the syringe out and a small droplet of blood leaks from the nipple. Acting quickly, he tied a small loop of twine around the nipple and pulls it tight. No reason to let her bleed on anything.

Her breast throbbed horribly, both from the 'medicine' and from the long, cold needle that had just been skewering her. She didn't have long to wait before it began its ascent through her other tortured nipple.

Whimpering pitifully, it was all Chelsea could do to not thrash about. She shook like a leaf when the needle began its slow retreat back out of her boob, the burning solution filling her up. When it was finally withdrawn, her nipple was quickly tied off, the tight slipknot making the little teat look like it was about to pop. She began to weep and sniffle quietly.

“Well done slut. I'm proud of you.” Mike leaned down and kissed her, a soft sob traveling from her lips into his. “Th-thank you, Sir. Ahh! Ahhh!” She did not get up from the chair, however. They were not quite done.

Still arching her back, thrusting her aching titmeat out, Mike picked up the final part of her milk treatment; an oscillating massage gun. They always pummeled her titties with the device after her injections, ostensibly to more evenly distribute the hormone treatment within.

Chelsea could feel her bosom bulging angrily as it tried to cope with the stinging poison of the nettles, the twine binding her quietly creaking around the swelling girlflesh. The skin felt tight and full when Mike touched the hard rubber ball to her left breast, and she almost passed out when he turned it on.

Rapidly punching forward and backwards, the machine worked her swelling funbags as if they were a hard knotted muscle. Mike thumbed the controls up to maximum and leaned in hard with his weight, Ryan standing behind her to hold her chair upright.

“UghhH!!!!N-Nooo!! I!...I c-can't do this! S-stoooop!” Chelsea cried openly at the intense soreness radiating from her pummeled chest as Mike slowly worked the punishing ball over the abused mammary. Her breast was completely crushed flat under the force, and after working it for a minute he switched to the other tit. Chelsea was breathing hysterically and clung white knuckled to her seat, terrified if she let go they would cane her afterwards. This was bad enough.

She dropped her head again backwards over the seat and leaned back, her feet flexing and back arching in pain, bare ass lifting from the chair. This pushed her torso higher up, shoulder blades right on top of the chair back, allowing Mike to change his angle and apply more downward force. Only Ryan kept her seat from toppling over.

“I hope you appreciate all the effort we put into you, slut.”

“Ahh! I...I! NNHG!” Mike raised the massage gun from her tit, only to energetically punch it back down again.

“I mean, this is a lot of time we could be spending on other things, you know?”

He deeply massaged her sore sweatermeat for a good 30 minutes, alternating every 2 minutes or so. His boot heels bruisingly leaving the floor, he liked to start by crushing her central peaks to her ribs, then slowly drag the gun in ever widening concentric circles. The flattening buxom bust wobbled intensely, her groans only getting louder and louder. Finally satisfied that the fat-titted chest was sufficiently rubbed down, her milk ducts soaking in her medicine, he shut the machine off.

*Slap! “Ungh!!” *SLAP “NghhhH!!!” He slaps both titties, his white handprint briefly visible on the dark pink breastflesh. With the massage gun removed, she relaxes and falls back down to her seat, grunting between her sobs at the wire whisk still up her spread cunt bashing into her womb, her own weight punishing her womanhood. Chelsea sat gasping with tears leaking down her face.

“Well, that ought to do it. You can get back to cleaning now, slut. Make sure you leave those funbags tied up for another hour.” Mike grinned like a kid in a candy store. He did love to manhandle this whore's titties.

“Y-yes sir. I w-will.”

She gingerly rose up and gathered up all the tools they had used, disposing of the old syringes and putting her medicine back in the fridge for next week. With her sore breasts and nipples still tied tight and her sex lips stretched wide around the wire whisk, she put her latex gloves on and started scrubbing the floor.

— ------------------------------------------------

Her cake had, of course, come out wonderfully, and the house now shone with a clean sparkle unknown before Chelsea had come to live in Mike's home. She wasn't allowed to eat the cake, of course, as such food was better than a bitch deserved. Mike and Ryan ate slices of it while they watched her clean. Now it was getting late, and Chelsea was preparing the soup for her captive brother held in the basement below.

She only ever got to eat the cold leftover scraps from Mike and Ryan's plates, and had to lick all the dishes and cooking pans clean before washing them. Even her brother Andy, their prisoner kept down below to use as leverage against her, ate better tasting meals than her, but not by much. She had prepared a nutritious soup for him, with little bits of steak and vegetables, trying to make it as healthy as possible. He only got one meal per day after all, and it had to be soup.

As required of her, she lowered her apron and gently squeezed her nipples, trying to express some milk into his food. She moaned piteously as her hands worked the bruised, distressed flesh. The steamy vapors rose up around her chest as she gently milked herself of her cream, but she still hardly produced anything. She could barely get a half ounce of milk out of her tender bags each day, but still, that was better than nothing. Another 2 months or so of her treatment and she'd probably be up to respectable levels. As it was, her sore teats let out a brief, fine spray then dripped the rest of her meager dairy into the soup.

Satisfied, she picked up the bowl and made her way downstairs, Ryan walking with her for supervision.

Her older brother was the whole reason she was even here. Andy had been caught attempting to break into a car by Matt and Ryan, who were on duty. The pair learned about his cute sister Chelsea from him and decided that instead of bringing Andy in, they would lock him up as leverage to use against Chelsea. Now they were both their captives, except Andy was never permitted to leave his cell in the basement, and survived on meager rations.

When Ryan opened Andy's cell door, Chelsea could see he had been watching TV. Chelsea had begged and begged for them to allow him this convenience, she was afraid he would lose his mind being locked in isolation for so long. After a particularly satisfying night of double teaming her throat and ass, they had finally granted her request. She had fucked them like her life depended on it, which in a very real way it did.

Andy sat quietly in his chair, his hands cuffed together in front of him, as always. He wasn't allowed to move from his chair when people were in his cell, Ryan's gun trained on him the whole time. He used to shout at them, but a few hours of malicious tasing corrected his attitude. He watched warily as his naked sister entered the cell.

“Ch..chelsea. No...don't.” She didn't answer him, she was forbidden from communicating with him. She set his soup on the floor and turned to approach him. Dutifully, as required of her, she sank to her knees, a tear rolling down her face, and fished his cock from his pants. His legs felt so thin to her beneath the fabric.

He was already hard. He hated when his sister brought him his food for the day, but he couldn't also help but look forward to it. He felt like a piece of shit, but when her hot, steamy mouth sucked him in and wrung his balls dry, it brought him so much pleasure and comfort in an otherwise desperate situation.

Feeling like dirt, humiliated at both herself and her brother's actions, Chelsea ran her tongue up the underside of his cock before wetly sucking him in. At least Andy never tried to shove his length down her throat. She quietly blew her brother, her blowjobs vastly improving over the last few months, and she cupped his balls tenderly.

“Chelsea! God damn it!” he knew they were making her do this, and if he stopped her they would both be punished. Still, he was completely caught off guard when she suddenly popped off his cock and, looking him dead in the eye, blew a little white bubble with his pre-cum.

“Wh-what? What's wrong with you!?” he groaned, his cock hardening like steel. She engulfed his member again, sucking him down nearly to her throat, but stopping short of throating him. She hated being throated, even though she had to do it all the time.

Andy never lasted long. The wrongness of it being his sister's mouth magnified his lust. To his shame he started spurting his load, and she swallowed it all down. She didn't really feel all that nauseous anymore swallowing cum, at least, not nearly as much as she used to. She looked up at him in apology, never saying a word, and patted his knee before turning to leave with Ryan back upstairs. She quickly bends and picks up Andy's discarded bowl from yesterday.

“You're getting quicker at blowing him. Are you that cockhungry?” Ryan teased her as he closed Andy's soundproof cell door.

“...I just want to get it over with, sir.” she answered dejectedly.

“Uh huh, that looked a little too enthusiastic to me. It's not so bad you know. He doesn't have to work, gets a free meal, and a blowjob every day. There have been worse fates. Probably boring as hell though.” She glared at him for a second, then looked away.

*Slap!

Annoyed at her glance, he slapped her across the face.

“What's your duty to any cock?” he demanded from the cowering girl.

“..to swallow them sir. I'm a fucktoy.”

“That's right, and I don't care who it belongs to. Would you prefer I cut that fucker's dick off? Since you hate blowing him so much.”

“No! No! I'll suck him, really. It's no trouble sir. Please don't hurt him.”

Shaking his head at her, he leads her back upstairs. She had another round of assfucking coming to her for that look...and then a wicked idea entered his mind. As he pulled out his phone and dialed the police chief, he remarked to her casually.

“Slut, go give yourself an enema.” Her face blanched. This never ended well for her.

— -----------------------------------------------------

It was 2 AM, and Chelsea had no idea how she ended up in this predicament. After giving herself no less than three enemas, of increasing size per Ryan, the three of them piled into the squad car to visit the police chief, Daniel. Chelsea was thrown into her customary position in the back, the darkly tinted windows cracked open to the freezing winter air, while the strong clamps of her tit leash bit fiercely into her nipples. They brought her massive, studded black buttplug with them.

That was a few hours ago. Now the sweaty girl grunted like an animal on the floor of the police station, surrounded by Mike, Ryan, and 10 other cops. They had made some phone calls and quickly arranged this after hours party. Chelsea was overdue to be shared with their friends anyway. The happier they kept their friends at the station, the less likely any investigation into Chelsea's whereabouts would get off the ground. They had been sodomizing her for hours, Mike and Ryan requesting that everyone fill her ass with their cum.

A huge six and a half foot behemoth of a man was plowing into her tight, upraised ass with a vengeance, the poor girl squeaking with each thrust into her abused butt. His long, fat cock burrowed its way deeply into her, sliding wetly along her lubricated asstube.

“Ungh! ha-aaagh!” it felt like someone's arm was up there, and she bit her index finger on her clenched hands. Bottoming out, the man roared as he poured his cum into her bowels, adding his seed to that of his companions.

“Ohhhh! no, wait! UngH!!” Before her ass could close up, Ryan brutally shoved the fat gleaming buttplug up her ass, sealing the baby batter within. She squealed as the metal studs scraped their way inside of her. They intended to fill her up with cum, and she was not permitted to let any leak out. As far as Ryan was concerned, she could start throwing up cum and he'd still seal up that tight little ass.

As she clutched at her hair and moaned, feeling the loads sloshing around inside her, Mike walked over to Ryan and laughed.

“She looked at you funny, huh?”

“Don't give me that man, you know she can have attitude. I'm sick of it.”

Mike smiled apologetically. “You're right, of course. It shouldn't be tolerated. I do think she's getting better though.”

Knowing the room of cops was staring and what's expected of her, Chelsea started crawling over to Daniel, the police chief, who had sat down for a breather. She hungrily sucked his sweaty balls into her mouth, smelling the leftover cum and juices from his previous assfuck.

“Damn, you boys really found a good one.” He sighed as he let her work his cock back into hardness. It had been about an hour, so he reckoned he might be able to put another load up her ass, but his batteries were running low.

Chelsea sloppily ran her tongue around his balls and suckled on them, then ran her tongue up the hardening shaft. Licking the tip, she sucked him down and worked his rod with her tongue.

“What's ours is yours chief, you know that.” Mike offered. It was in their best interest to stay on the chief's good side.

“Yes, well..ahh that's nice - I'll be visiting this little tart again for sure.” Chelsea popped off his dick and returned to softly nursing his balls, but he pushed her from him. Standing up, he shoves her face to the ground and pulls the fat plug from her ass.

“Unngh! Ouccch!” her ass widens painfully over the overly large flared head of the studded plug, and it comes free with a wet pop. Her spasming asshole gaped and twitched before the chief while he jacks his cock, finishing the job she started. Aiming right for her opened butt, he shot his load directly into the winking hole, then moved aside as another one of his men took his place, sliding their cock home up her ass.

Grunting, Chelsea was glad she at least managed to avoid getting buttfucked by the chief again. This guy though was definitely enthusiastic, the clapping sound of her cheeks filling the room as he hammered her back door.

*Thwump! *Thwump! *Thwump! *Thwump! *Thwump!

The cop tensed and shot his load into her, adding to her internal cesspool. She could feel his cock twitching as he came, his thighs flush against her cheeks. Pulling out, he roughly shoved her plug back up her tailpipe. Her breath hitched as it slid home. It may be sliding in easier, but it still always felt like she was being ripped apart. She sat back up on her haunches, looking at them.

“Please, can we take the plug out? You've been fucking my ass for hours...please. Let me suck your cocks or something instead.” she pleaded with them. Her ass hurt so much, and she hated the feeling of the sloshing cum inside her. She had lost count, but she had taken 22 loads up her butt thus far.

Mike laughed at her. “I think we all need a little breather, fucktoy. But since you asked so nicely, we'll find you something to suck on while we rest up.”

“That's not what I meant-”

Diane, the only other woman present, had been watching with disgust in the corner. She was good friends with the Chief and, being a true sadist, enjoyed these little shows, but she couldn't believe what a dirty slut Chelsea was. This wasn't a girl, this was fuckmeat. She deserved no mercy.

“I think I can take care of that Mike.” she said offhandedly and some of the guys cheered. Startled at the feminine voice, Chelsea turned to see a large, long pink strap-on in front of her face. The head was huge!

“What do-mmmhph!” Diane shoved her fake cock into the girl's balking mouth before she couldn't finish speaking. She immediately started pumping her hips, working the girl's sloppy mouth while Chelsea looked up despondently. Why was another woman doing this to her?

The guys cracked open refreshments and sat down for a breather, watching the show with interest. Chelsea gagged as the dildo was shoved down into her throat, the fat head squeezing tightly into her gullet. She retched pathetically around the hard plastic, pleading with her eyes.

“Mmmggh!! Gngsggngg!...”

Ignoring her, Diane kept the fuckslut's nose firmly pressed to her crotch, Chelsea clawing frantically at Diane's thighs. Finally, as Chelsea weakened, she quickly pulled the throat buster out, multiple wet strands of saliva connecting the strap-on to the bitch's glistening lips. The flared, bulbous end glinted ominously under the light.

She barely managed to gasp in a ragged breath before her throat was roughly plugged again, the bulge clearly visible in her neck. Grasping her head with both hands, Diane hammered her throat like the mouthpussy it was. She hated disgusting sluts like Chelsea. Chelsea wiggled and tried to pull away but couldn't escape her steel grip in her hair. The little plastic cock was a pink blur as it was pounded harder and harder down her convulsing throat, little flecks of spittle flying up into the air, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Holy shit.” The guys couldn't believe what they were witnessing. Some of them felt their cocks hardening again, the brutal fuck arousing them from their stupor. Diane was really working the slut.

Sloppy wet squelching sounds filled the room as Chelsea's throat pleasured a cock that wasn't even real. She felt miserable, the hard plastic hurt her so much as it punched in and out of the entrance of her throat, it was worse than a real cock. At least a real cock was more flexible, and not so long! The head was by far the worst part, it felt to Chelsea like she was swallowing a tennis ball. She stared up at Diane's clothed crotch and wept, her saliva leaking out around her tightly wrapped lips.

Diane pulled out again, and Chelsea gasped in a breath, immediately coughing violently.

“*Gasp! *cough ugh,. ..w..*cough whhhy?” she moaned throatily, her voice not working properly. “What have I *cough done to you?”

Diane stared at her then viciously sunk her long nails into Chelsea's brutalized tit flesh, wrenching her hands. Chelsea's hands desperately clutched at her wrists, and her mouth popped open again in a scream that was quickly cut off with a smooth, hard stroke. Releasing her tits, Diane squeezed her throat as she fucked her raw, making the straining slut-tube even tighter. She would pull the head way out into her mouth just so that she could punch it back down through the narrow entrance again and again.

“You disgust me that's why. Fucking. Twelve. Men. All. Night. Up. Your. Ass” she punctuated each word with a thrust down her throat. “Then asking to suck their cocks? You're a fucking. WHORE!” She pulled her nose to her crotch again and held her there by her hair, wiggling her hips side to side, the little bulge in her neck moving and flexing while she wetly gurgled. Chelsea was crying again, both at her words and the pain. Diane was right.

“Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the show. But you are worth less than dirt. No wonder they call you fucktoy.” Noticing the hard cocks of some of the men, she popped her strap-on from Chelsea's overworked throat, her spit shining all down her chin.

*gasp! *cough

“It looks like you're going to get your wish, slut. Go on, tend to their cocks. It's what you're for.”

Spluttering and coughing, a red-eyed Chelsea looked around at all the hard cocks pointing at her. Did her suffering really have this effect on them? She really was just a fucktoy... why did she ever doubt it.

Sniveling, she crawled to the closest cock, a smallish man with a thick forest of pubes. She could still feel all the loads up her ass swishing around as she crawled. Her butt tightened around the plug reflexively.

“S..sir. Please” she rasped out. “May I suck your cock?” Not waiting for him to answer, she dutifully swallowed him completely, her loosened throat having no trouble engulfing his relatively smaller penis. Maybe if she showed Ryan and Mike she knew her place, they'd be a little nicer to her. She spluttered a little when she swallowed him whole, mostly due to the irritation her throat felt from Diane's loving care.

Her sloppy mouth drooled around him as he came, filling her mouth with the taste of his spunk. It wasn't a big load, he had already come twice today, and she gulped it down almost as an afterthought.

“Ah, okay, enough!” the guy had to roughly push her off him when she wouldn't stop suckling on his cock, the head sensitive after cumming a third time. A younger man took his place, happily volunteering his cock for her ministrations.

While Chelsea gobbled up dicks and her ass marinated in cum, Diane leaned over to talk Ryan. “Aren't you boys worried about her getting pregnant at these kind of parties?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. We make her take birth control, of course.”

Diane smiled evilly, her green eyes glinting knowingly. “Oh no, no, no. There have been cases where that hasn't worked, unfortunately.” She whispered in his ear, a slow smile crossing Ryan's face before he nodded, giving his assent for something. Diane fished around in the bag she had pulled the strap-on from.

Her tonsils bathing in another fresh dose of man cream, Chelsea dutifully swallowed and gave a quick light lick to the tip, sending him off. Suddenly Diane was grabbing a hold of her hips, pulling her ass towards her before she could find another man to nurse on.

“What are you – ohh that's cold!” Diane had started pushing a chilly stainless steel speculum into Chelsea's pussy, the cool metal making her walls contract. Pushing it all the way down her slippery fucktube, she leaned into it and twisted to make sure it was fully seated, the impaled woman dropping her head and elbows to the floor. “Ungh! It's in damn it! Ungh! Ungh!” Chelsea smarted off while Diane repetitively bashed her palm into the speculum. Why wouldn't this woman just leave her alone?!

“That's it bitch, make me angry.” Grabbing the little wingnut, she rapidly starting prying Chelsea's intimate sexflesh open. Her wet lips started to thin as they widened, the whole length of her cunt tube opening up wider and wider. The bottomed out speculum was extra long and the hard blades scraped painfully along her cervix as they pulled apart.

“Ngh! g-god! It's too much!” Chelsea clawed at the floor. She only felt this stretched once before, when Mike had forced an ungodly amount of vegetables in her one day. Like then, her cunt ached and throbbed as it was pushed past its limits and she began to wonder if she'd tear.

“I know you're a disgusting slut, but we can't allow you to be getting pregnant.”

“Ah! AH!! Ohhhhh!!!!!” A strong looking cop, per Diane's request, strained to put the final twists to the cruel little medical device, each turn of the wingnut punctuated by Chelsea's cries. Her stretchingly-thin delicate labia bleached white under the tension, and the entire length of her tender inner pink was completely taut. “Owww!! M-miss, please! I'm on birth control! Take it out! Master please!” She looked up imploringly at Ryan, while Diane ruffled through a pile of black bulldog binder clips.

“Do what she wants, slut. We're here to correct your attitude. Don't make me continue your lessons at home.” An ice cold pit dropped into her stomach. “N-no sir, I'm sorry.” Steeling herself, she widened her thighs slightly, granting Diane easier access to her straining, spread wide pussy, her little cervix visible down below.

Tut-tutting at her, Diane pinched open an extra large sized binder clip, one of the big strong ones for an entire ream of paper, with a pair of needlenose pliers. The grip was awkward and it flew out of the plier's jaws, but she got it pretty stable on the second attempt. She really had to squeeze hard to pry the jaws open. Chelsea whimpered as she lowered the wide, fat clip down into her spread open pussy.

“The best way to keep babies out is to close shut the nursery door.” She maneuvered the jaws around the pink, pouting ring of her cervix.

“St...stop! Plea-AHH! GHHAANNNNGHH!!!” The cruel metal clamp was suddenly released, living up to its name of bulldog. Instantly slamming the gate of her womb closed, the clamp viciously pinched the tight little ring into an oblong, near flat oval.

“OHHHhhH! Owwwwwwww!!!” Chelsea involuntarily bucked, her cunt spasming in pain as if in a contraction around the unforgiving speculum. Her cervix trembled as the jaws of the clamp impressed deep, painful indentations into it, angry red marks that would be present for two weeks. Making sure the little womb hole was crushed flat, Diane wiggled the clamp with her pliers and Chelsea squeaked and fell silent, her mouth open in a silent gasp. Satisfied, Diane snaps the little wire handles forwards, letting them lay flat against her flesh within out of the way, and pulls the speculum from her cunt.

It took some effort to yank it out, as she left it wide open and Chelsea was squeezing down tightly in agony, but after pushing on her ass with her foot and pulling hard it finally it slid free with a pop. “ngh!” Her lips snapped shut, some color returning to them, concealing the dreadful state of affairs inside her.

“ohhh godddd! It huurrrts!!” Chelsea writhed and clutched at the floor, trying to get a handle on the pain radiating from her very core. It felt like a demon was chewing on her womb. “Ahh! Master Ryan, Master Mike, please!!”

“Ha! Well boys, the nasty slut's pussy is now open for business! You're welcome!” Diane cackled as she watched her struggle.

Mike knelt down next to the trembling girl, and forced her to look at him, her eyes red. “It hurts now, but it would hurt more later if you didn't do it. Remember your lessons. Concentrate on them. This is what you are meant for.” Still moaning and whimpering, her logic withering under the pulsing assault to her womanhood, she did her best to obey him. She must. Not only for Andy, but because he was right.

In a red haze she located the nearest cock, suddenly finding herself wrapping her lips around Mike's hard shaft.

He punched back into her throat, silently pleased with her. He was proud of how she listened to him, and was getting better at not gagging. She gurgled as she looked up at him, and he found the combination of tears and cum on her face quite fetching. He throat fucked her at a leisurely pace, then he noticed some of the guys were drinking coffee. He remembered how the guys had doused her pussy with coffee at the warehouse before.

Well, might as well go broke or go home. She was on a roll, after all.

He called out to them. “Hey, bring that pot of coffee over here. This bitch loves coffee. Don't give me that, you can make more in a minute.”

Chelsea's eyes bulged in her head, she knew immediately what Mike was thinking. She popped off his cock.

“I'm t-trying to be a good s-slut sir, please!” she cried, and he patted her head. He had more of a soft spot for her than Ryan.

“Shhh. You are doing well, I am pleased. It would also please me for you to do as I ask. Understand?”

She nodded slowly, resigned and wide eyed, and he pushed her face down to the ground, raising her ass up again. They pulled her fat plug from between her cheeks and Ryan shoved a long funnel into her. Her ass?! She absolutely did not want any of that up there, but...at the same time, it was her obligation. She had to spare her and her brother Mike and Ryan's anger. And she had to be a good slut.

Her pinched cervix ached furiously and her attention lagged for a moment, her empty cunt twitching uselessly around nothing. Then when Diane tipped the pot over the funnel, it was like a tidal wave of burning heat swept over her, snapping her attention back to this new torment.

“AhhH!! OOOWWWWW owwwww!!” she squirmed and wiggled, Mike holding her still by the hips while Diane poured. She had to stop pouring to let the water level slowly drain down, then resumed pouring before stopping again, methodically adding a whole three quarters of a pot of coffee to her shuddering insides. The hot liquid mixed with the large amount of loads, so carefully preserved, already inside her, and she could feel her belly achingly filling up more and more.

Steam rising up out of her ass, Mike lined the fat plug up and banged on it with his fist, shoving it back in. The whimpering girl gasped as her tight ring barely slipped around the fat tapered middle, the rough studs abrading and ripping at her.

“Good job slut. I knew you could do it.” Mike grabbed her hair and pulls back upright, arching her neck back while he looks into her face.

“Ohhh god it burns sir! Ohhhhh-nnghhh!” Resuming his blowjob, he shoves his hard cock back inside her mouth, cutting off her protests and whining. She was doing well, he didn't want her to ruin it by running her mouth. A very slight bulge could be made out in her stomach, where the hot coffee and cum sloshed around, steam cleaning her insides. If it wasn't for the fat plug up her butt, she didn't think she'd be able to hold it in. She sweated profusely as she tried to cope with the hot liquid and her viciously pinched womb.

She moaned into his cock, doing her best to please him as well as voice her own discomfort, and he came directly down her throat into her stomach. She tried to follow his cock when he pulled it from her mouth, but he just slapped her lightly across the face and let the next guy take his turn, who opted instead to fuck her cunt. Setting her heavy titties to swinging beneath her, the coffee and cum inside sloshed violently back and forth, not a drop leaking around the fat sealing plug. Unable to bear it, she pulled off his cock and quickly turned around, gently pushing him to the floor before straddling him.

Oh, why'd he have to fuck her pussy? It hurt so much! She'd have given anything to have just sucked him off instead, but was resolved to give him the best fuck of his life. She had to please her masters. She'd been through too much tonight for it all to be thrown away and get punished later.

Her juices ran in rivers down her thighs, aroused despite herself, and she worked her tight sex down his cock like a wanton whore. She tried to block out the throbbing from the heavy clamp deep within her, and the man hardly noticed it either, only occasionally brushing up against the smooth end for a split second. Knowing the pain it was causing her, it made him that much harder. She squeezed her pussy tightly as she was fucked, and moaned lustfully into the sack of another man as he shoved his meat into her face. She would exhale all over his balls with her hot breath, exciting him, before sucking every inch of him back into her mouth, wringing every last drop she could out of him.

“Mmmmgh! Unnmmfff! Nggh!” She moaned into the cock in her mouth in time with the thrusts up her cunt. Feeling the man beneath her buck into her forcefully for a final time, she felt hot sticky liquid running down her leg, dripping to the floor.

“You're one. Nasty. Fucking. Slut!” The man in her mouth blasted as well, nearly drowning her in an unexpectedly large amount of cum. It shot out of her nose and she quickly worked her throat, swallowing and swallowing as much as she could. Her fingers clung to his ass as she pulled him in deep, making wet little noises. He pulled out and the man beneath her pushed her off, Chelsea falling to the floor, licking up the cum that had dribbled out of her pussy, terrified of her masters' disapproval. Someone else grabbed her and she didn't get to finish.

Everyone got in a final round with her before they decided to call it. It was 6 am when all was said and done, and a fucked out, exhausted Chelsea lay on her back on someone's desk, gurgling pitifully as Diane worked her cum-filled throat one final time with her bulky-headed, long pink strap-on. At some point her wrists and elbows had been cuffed behind her back, pushing her boobs out. Her head lolling back limply over the edge, Diane had a straight shot to her gullet, and she did her best to pack any unswallowed sperm down into Chelsea's stomach. Two guys managed to rub one out while watching and were about to cum, so Diane pulled the strap-on from Chelsea's steaming fuckmouth.

*Gasp!* Chelsea sucked in a blissful lungful of air. “G-god please...” her voice was thick and hoarse from both cum and the rough assault to her gullet. “Let m-me r-rest please Miss Dian- *Gag!”

The two men wanking their cocks spurted into her mouth while she begged, shooting their loads to her tonsils and making her choke, some of the cum spilling onto her face. Ever helpful, Diane wiped it off with her strap-on then helpfully slammed the fat plastic toy back down between her pretty lips, completely packing the man cream all down her throat, saving her the trouble of swallowing. While Chelsea writhed miserably, Diane leant over and beat her fist down on her lower stomach, jostling the painful womb clamp still crushing her color-drained cervix flat. When her legs crossed and tried to rise into a fetal position, the chief grabbed her ankles and held them down, granting Diane access to continue pummeling her clamped womb from above at her leisure.

She fucked the whore's face for 35 minutes while everyone cleaned up the area, the girl barely being allowed to gasp in enough air to stay conscious, before Ryan finally stopped her so they could all head home. Snarling at her, Diane sunk her nails into Chelsea's titties one last time as she bottomed out in her bulging throat, rolling her hips to stretch her painfully. Listening happily to her blubber and whine into the fake cock while she clawed into her lewd fuckbags, she sank her fingers in as deeply as she could, trying her hardest to pierce her sharp nails into the breastflesh below.

Chelsea really didn't like Diane.

— --------------------------------------------

“Fucktoy, what do you think about having a dog around here?”

Mike sprung the question on Chelsea one day as she was tending to her little outdoor garden near the house. She knelt naked as a jaybird as she tilled the earth with her little spade, planting a variety of seeds chosen by her masters; eggplant, cucumber, carrots, and other generally phallic shaped vegetables. Wiping her sweaty brow, she looked up at him warily.

Memories of a massive St. Bernard rutting into her at her old warehouse job filled her mind. Her masters had made her the toy of her ex-coworker Ricardo and his friends, and Ricardo was delighted to give Chelsea's sopping, unwilling pussy to his mutt.

“I don't think it's a good idea sir” she said cautiously, trying to sound innocuous and not give him any ideas. “There's..uh.. not enough space in the house.”

“Pfft, of course there is” scoffed Mike. “And besides, I think I'd keep him outside most of the time. Dear old Ricardo mentioned he breeds dogs. I'll give him a call.” Chelsea dropped her spade.

And just like that, Mike, Ryan, and Chelsea were on their way to visit Ricardo the next day.

— --------------------------------------------

Chelsea was both elated and ashamed of her attire. On the one hand, it was the first set of clothes she had worn in months. On the other, it made her look like a whore.

“Put these on, bitch” Ryan had gruffly said to her after their morning breakfast, throwing a small duffle bag at her.

Thinking it was some kind of degrading sex toy she warily opened the zipper, surprised when she found a wad of clothes.

“We haven't met Ricardo's wife and aren't sure how she will react to some dumb fuckslut parading her fat tits around her husband. It's probably unnecessary, but until we know for sure you are to wear that.”

“Okay...Thank yo-” Chelsea stopped midsentence, pulling the clothes out and getting a better look. “Sir...this is too small for me.” She looked up at him, but he squinted.

“Get dressed right now. We'll be leaving soon.” Standing and watching her, she hesitatingly held the shirt and shorts. There was no underwear.

She rolled the tiny yellow t-shirt down over her head and full bust. Was this even for an adult? The fabric stretched and clung to every curve of her body, clearly outlining her shapely breasts and complete lack of bra. Her perky nipples poked forwards prominently, the tips clearly visible even though they weren't even hard. Was this really better than being naked? Embarrassingly, the shirt read “Caution – Slippery When Wet” in big letters.

*Slap! “Ah!” she had jumped, Ryan slapping her still bottomless ass. “I like it. Keep going.”

Flushing, her feminine brain somehow embarrassed to be going from naked to dressed, she took the stretchy black lycra short shorts and wiggled into them, pulling them tightly up over the swells of her hips. The elastic fabric kept wanting to slide up between her labia into a cameltoe, but it otherwise wasn't the worst thing she could be wearing.

She strapped on her black short heeled pumps they let her keep around the house, and she was ready to go. In honor of the occasion, on their way out the door they had slapped an uncomfortably tight dog collar around her neck, complete with leash.

Ricardo lived on a small ranch out in the sticks, and it took over an hour and a half for the three to drive out there. As signs of civilization disappeared through the window Chelsea felt apprehensive, thinking about how any number of awful things could happen out here and nobody would know.

Driving through an old rusty gate, the car kicked up a small cloud of dust as it rolled up the dirt path to Ricardo's home. He had a number of barns, sheds, and fenced off fields, and Chelsea could make out some livestock in the distance.

When Ryan came around and grabbed her leash, pulling her out of the back of the squad car, a booming bark could be heard from inside the house.

“Shut your yap, god damn it!” Ricardo hustled over from a distant field, yelling at the house to try to shut his dog up within. He knew why the mutt was so excited, no doubt he smelled Chelsea and recognized his bitch. Chuckling, he greeted Mike and Ryan and pointedly said nothing to their blonde fuckdoll, simply looking up and down the curvy figure of the self-conscious girl. She fidgeted awkwardly, eyes downcast. The leash humiliated her, and in that moment she was keenly aware she was just a plaything.

“My friends, ” he smiled at Mike “I am honored that we meet again!” Ricardo's accent was thick, but he was well spoken.

“Ricardo, good to see you. Mike tells me you might have a pup for us.” Ryan shook his hand, smiling. Ricardo waved off the comment.

“Of course, a fine young beast, I keep him in the kennels. But first, please, let us enjoy the afternoon, you have no plans, yes? Come, allow me to show you my ranch!” Smiling affably, he gestured and the men followed him, tugging Chelsea along behind them.

As they walked, he continued the conversation. “I confess, I am a little disappointed that you felt the need to clothe your slut. I hope you're not planning on keeping her like this?”

“We did that for you, Ricardo. We haven't had the pleasure of meeting your wife, and didn't want to cause you any hardship with her.” Ricardo laughed loudly, looking slightly offended.

“Hardship? I appreciate your consideration, but my wife is just a cunt. She has no say whatsoever in what her betters do.” He stopped walking and turned to face Chelsea. “You don't mind if I strip the bitch, then?”

“H-hey, wait a min-”

“Of course” Mike nodded his assent. “Feel free to.”

Ryan holding on to her leash, Ricardo grabbed roughly at the neckline of Chelsea's flimsy t-shirt. Tugging strongly, he ripped the fabric straight down the middle, first her cleavage then her entire jiggling chest flopping into the free air. She started to cover herself with her hands.

“Hands off, whore!” Mike barked. “Let the man do as he likes.”

The humiliated girl wrung her hands in frustration, leaving her funbags exposed to the group. She had finally gotten to wear a shirt again...and it had only lasted less than two hours.

*Rip! “Ye-ai! Ow!” Wasting no more time, Ricardo then grabbed at the front of her lycra short shorts and pulled straight up. The clingy elastic fabric instantly pulled into a thin banded wedgie, ripping partially, the majority of the skimpy garment wadded in Ricardo's hand. Her bare labia split apart angrily, visible on both sides, and he sawed the shorts back and forth, his other hand pushing down on her shoulder to keep her feet firmly planted. Her thighs drew together uncomfortably at the distressing chafing.

“oww! Stop doing th- Ow!” Releasing her shoulder, she rises on tip toe to try to relieve the strain. He pulls out a pocket knife and quickly cuts the bunched up fabric, and she drops to her feet, gasping in a relieved breath. It felt like her cleft had rugburn, the inner lips and clit nicely pinkened.

“You can keep your shoes, you'll need them to get around the ranch.” Of course he left her collared as well. At least they had gotten that right.

“Thank the nice man” Ryan instructed her. Seriously?

“...thank you” she said quietly, saddened she was naked again. Who knew when the next time would be she had something to cover herself with...

He took them to the stable and fenced off field he had rushed over from a moment ago. “You picked a fine time to arrive my friends. My wife and I were in the middle of breaking in one of our unruly stallions.”

“....ungh! caralho! y-ungh! Ngh!” The struggling voice of an angry Brazilian woman slowly got louder and louder as they approached the stable. Turning the corner, Chelsea's eyes slowly widened as she took in the details.

“This is my wife Clarissa.”

A completely topless raven haired Brazilian woman sat astride a kicking and bucking stallion, sweating profusely as she violently bounced up and down in the saddle. A perfectly formed set of tits flopped wildly on her chest, her dark nipples dancing in the air. She wore a dark brown cowgirl hat, matching riding boots, and gold hoop earrings. Wrapped around her legs were a pair of dark riding chaps....and nothing else. The ass-less riding pants did nothing to conceal her crotch and the smooth, alabaster skin of her pumping thighs and ass, well muscled and femininely shaped. This currently garnered the most attention.

The gorgeous woman groaned as she held on for dear life, a battle of wills between herself and the demented horse. Between her glistening thighs, mounted right to her saddle, a large ribbed dildo slammed in and out of her shaven pussy, the fleshy sex lips having no chance against the bronco's bucking. The dildo looked impossibly wide to Chelsea, and Clarissa grit her teeth and hissed as the rough edges scraped up inside her over and over again, the head punching into her deeply as she squeezed her thighs around the beast, refusing to fall off.

The men made conversation while they watched the swearing, groaning woman, while Chelsea looked on appalled. Each heavy impact of her ass to saddle sent corresponding ripples through her jiggling ass and flailing breasts.

“A beautiful woman and a beautiful cunt. Excellent.” Mike appraised her and congratulated Ricardo. “How long has she been riding?”

“About 10 minutes now. She gets thrown off every few minutes, but she just climbs back up. She's got to be getting tired, but then again, so is the horse. I lathered up the cunt splitter with some icy-hot to help motivate her.” Chelsea flinched at his words, alarmed. He did what?!

She didn't know the half of it. Clarissa's eyes rolled back in her head as her whole impaled cunt tube burned, the agony awakening reserves of strength in her. Again and again the horrid dildo punched into her, bottoming out, smearing the thick burning gel around into every crevice, every inch of her fluttering fucktube. But she was well trained, and knew all too well what her husband would do to her if he felt she wasn't trying her best to remain in the saddle.

The horse sweated while it kicked, twisted, jumped, anything it could do to throw Clarissa. Her impaled cunt actually aided her, the stiff, burning rod helping to keep her aligned on the saddle while she gripped him with her thighs, trying her best to bounce with him to lessen the impacts. Finally, she couldn't hang on anymore and she launched through the air, landing with a crash to the dirt, knocking the wind out of her, her hat flying.

Ricardo pulled the gasping woman to her feet, cruelly grabbing fistfuls of her bountiful chest and yanking her upright. The gasping beauty slowly recovered as she looked around at her new guests, one hand cupping her aching sex, still smothered with icy-hot within. She moaned quietly but didn't comment on it. What's more, she didn't look embarrassed at all to be in her state of undress, tits, ass, and cunt on full display.

“We have guests whore. These are your betters, Mike and Ryan.” The woman straightened up and fell to her knees, looking downward at their feet. “Welcome Sirs” her English was very good, better than Ricardo's even, albeit tinged with a hint of an accent. Smiling, Ryan grabbed a hefty titty and rolled her nipple between his fingers, the young woman allowing it with no complaint whatsoever.

Watching Ryan molest his wife, glad she was being treated as she should, Ricardo offered to take them out on his little pond in his johnboat for lunch and fishing. They agreed.

In a nearby shed he kept his little pond boat on a small custom built wagon. Clarissa was made to strip out of her riding chaps, revealing the rest of her shapely legs, but allowed to keep her cowgirl boots on. She took down a thin-strapped harness from a hook on the wall, and stepped into it, the men watching avidly. Straps encircled around her tits and around her back, leaving them more or less unencumbered and free to jiggle, then wove down to a thin belt strap encircling her waist.

“Ungh! Ungh!” She grunted as she yanked hard on the dangling crotch strap, tightening it cruelly as it split her tender labia right down the middle, then ran back up between her ass cheeks to the belt again. A D-ring hung in the small of her back, her anchor point for the cart, and she was promptly hitched.

“Ngh!”

Ricardo affixed heavy clamps to her fat nipples, torquing down the adjustment screws while his wife groaned. “T-thank you for helping m-me, love.” He attached the short leading straps to the clamps while tendrils of crushing agony shot through her tit tips into the substantial bust below. Grasping the leads, he started walking, tugging her mammaries forwards, signaling her to start pulling.

The boat was small but still a heavy load for one person. She moaned as her crotch strap bit into her quim, the harness designed to transfer a great deal of the force to between her legs. It was no wonder her legs were so well shaped, the muscles hauling her heavy load gallantly. She leaned forwards severely as she labored.

“How long have you had her, if you don't mind me asking?” Mike inquired. The salt-and-peppered Ricardo was no spring chicken, but his wife looked young, maybe in her late twenties?

“Oh, I bought her when she was young, almost 22 years ago. An investment for the future, you could call it. It's amazing what the American dollar can do back home. Her life with me is all she can remember.”

“Has she always helped you with the ranch?”

“Oh yes, I put her to work right away. I usually let her handle the day to day around here while I head into the city to work. A good bitch is the most valuable livestock you can have.”

Clarissa kept quiet, merely grunting when the wheel of the wagon banged over a large rock, tugging harder on her feminine flesh, abrading back and forth over her clit. Chelsea felt sorry for her, wondering if she could or should help her... but she really didn't want them to harness her up beside her, so she kept quiet, meekly following her leash as Ryan led her along.

They arrived at his small pond, a peaceful looking watering hole that he kept filled with fish. It was borderline, but they all barely fit in the boat, along with a basket of snacks and some refreshing drinks. Ricardo and Ryan had their lines out fishing, Mike preferring to simply enjoy the sun, outdoors, and Clarissa's cunt.

He instructed her to rinse the icy-hot out of her cunt, she afterwards sitting down near the pointed bow, her legs spread wide, knees sticking out over the water. She rested the heels of her boots on the sides of the boat and leaned back slightly, playing with her nipples with one hand while Mike licked and sucked all the pussy juice he could get out of her. She looked down at him lustfully as she ran her fingers through his hair, periodically humping into his face, happy to be receiving pleasure instead of pain. She knew it was temporary.

Ryan looked over at Chelsea, annoyed. “You really are inferior to Clarissa aren't you? Look at you sitting there doing nothing, are you fucking stupid?”

“S-sorry Sir! I- uh...what do you want me to do?”

“I'll tell you what you can do, you dumb whore.” Ricardo interjected, mouth full of sandwich. “Play with that nasty snatch of yours. We're going to need you both wet when the time comes.”

Since her masters didn't contradict him she took it as an order, and, trying to ignore the embarrassment, tentatively lowered her hand between her legs, watching Mike as he tongue fucked the sexy Brazilian slut in front of her. God, she did wish Mike would do that to her sometime. Her rubbing quickly turned into one, then two fingers sliding up inside of her, parting her labia. She would stop pumping to slowly run a slick finger up the length of her slit, over her clit, then delve back in again.

Suddenly Ryan's rod bent over and he yelled, pulling, yanking, and reeling in a medium sized bass. Congratulating him, Ricardo took the still living, flailing fish from Ryan and pulled the hook out, then tapped on Mike's shoulder. Mike withdrew his face from between Clarissa's legs, inhaling her scent one last time.

“Sorry to cut into your fun, but my wife hangs onto the fish for me.”

“Of course, don't let me get in the way.”

Staying in her previous, spread leg position, Clarissa reached down and grasped her wetly glistening sex lips, the slippery wanton flesh hard to keep a hold of.

No pleasure goes unpunished, she thought to herself.

She sinks her nails into the fleshy labia and grits her teeth, the extra pinching bite giving her the traction she needs to pull herself open, exposing her sensitive pink to him. Waiting patiently, she watches Ricardo lower the plump squirming fish to her entrance and start to shove it head first up her fuckpipe!

“Ungh! God that's a b-big one...unh!” she moans as her cuntflaps stretch, slipping wetly over the slimy, scaly flesh. The fish panicked anew, sure it was being swallowed, which was true really. The rough scaly skin abraded her sensitive insides like sandpaper as it thrashed, Ricardo pushing more and more of the fat body up inside his perfect fuckdoll wife.

“G-gah! Ouch! Ouch!!”

The fish's fins were sharp, hard, and pointed, and they scraped and stabbed all along her tender sensitive membranes. Up and up it went, the fattening body wedging into her, until finally just the tip of the tail stuck out, wiggling. Deep within, the large mouth of the bass opened and closed uselessly on the tight ring of her cervix.

“Oh! Ungh!” she squeezed down on the fish involuntarily as it struggled, the fish slowly suffocating outside of the water, the rough scales making the entirety of her stuffed fucktube itch horribly. When it finally stilled, she kept the fat little swimmer nestled within her, acting as the storage box until they returned to shore.

Chelsea had stopped playing with herself as she stared. What the fuck-

She jumped, startled out of her thoughts when Ricardo suddenly grabbed his fishing rod and yanked back hard, hooking a fish of his own. Quickly putting two and two together, she blanched as she realized where this fish was going to go.

“M-master, please, do I have to do that?” she implored Mike. “It....it can't be healthy!”

“Oh, shut up whore. Just be glad we're paying your needy cunt any attention at all.”

“B-but...!” she stared at the slim, smooth skinned catfish now dangling in the air. “It has barbs!!” she exclaimed.

“I forgot how annoying your fucktoy can be” Ricardo sighed. Agreeing wholeheartedly, Ryan starts smacking her tits while Ricardo took out a pair of dykes, clipping the stinging whiskers off the fish one at a time.

*Slap! “Uh! Maste-” *Slap! “Oww plea-” Slap! “OucH!!” Slap! Slap! Slap!

Satisfied the fish was harmless, Ricardo waits for Ryan to stop smacking Chelsea's funbags around and he and Mike pin her down on the little boat's floor, spreading her legs up and open, ankles near her face. Pushing the rough fish tail in first this time, the thinner catfish wriggled violently as it sank backwards into the warm fleshy cavern. Catfish skin doesn't have scales, so it felt to Chelsea like a slimy worm was wriggling its way deeper and deeper into her.

“Oh my God it feels so weeeeird!” she tried to get up but they wouldn't let her, holding her down by her spread legs. “Ouch! Owwww!” the rough fins along its body ascended and scraped into her, scratching coarsely, until finally just the head poked out of her cunt, gills opening and closing. This lasted only a moment, then Ricardo pushed down and the whole thing disappeared, the smaller fish able to fit entirely within Chelsea's slutty fuckbox. She could feel the thick, nasty fish slime slowly rolling down inside her, leaking into the little hole of her cervix to drip into her womb, the fish's flails and struggles rapidly decreasing in frequency. It was so disgusting.

— ----------------------

Back ashore, the group left the pond to deposit their fresh catch in the large barn, where Ricardo kept his ice chest. Walking slowly across the property, the two women hobbled and shuffled awkwardly as they tried to keep the fish wedged inside their cunts. Chelsea would occasionally stumble, the experience new to her, but thankfully she still wore her collar and leash so Mike just tugged her along if she faltered. Clarissa's fatter bass still had its tail poking out of her, and she definitely had it worse then Chelsea, the rough scaly skin scratching incessantly at her inner linings as she walked.

Laying face up on Ricardo's workbench, first Chelsea then Clarissa had their fishy charges unloaded from their intimate storage sleeves. Chelsea gasped in relief as her slimy smooth fish departed her, but Clarissa gasped in pain, the fatter, less hospitable body punishing her tender nook one last time in a final act of vengeance. She bucked as the dorsal fins scraped along her upper walls on the way out, stabbing into her g-spot.

“These cunts smell absolutely terrible now.” Mike wrinkled his nose as he leaned over Clarissa's pouting pussy. “Do you usually just wash her out?” *Slap! “Ungh!!” he walloped the sexy Brazilian in a full cuntal spank for being so filthy, her legs snapping shut.

“I have a special solution for that very thing. A moment.” Ricardo rummaged around in his large freezer, pulling out a gallon sized jug of liquid. He gathered a funnel and a pipe brush as well, and pulled out a rolled up water hose from the wall.

“Oh, amor...” Clarissa showed the first signs of protest Mike and Ryan had seen. “Must we really? I can run up to the house and clean up for you in no time.” She looked at him affectionately, trying to win him over, but Ricardo could see panic in her eyes beneath the mask.

*Thud! Thud! “Ohhhhhh Goddd....” Ricardo punches both fists down into her tender mammaries and grinds his knuckles. “Shut the fuck up. I'll scour your fuckpussy with whatever I feel like, whenever I feel like it.”

“O-of course dear.” Her body screaming at her to flinch away, she instead arches her back and pushes her pancaked breastflesh into his fists even harder. She learned long ago the more she could please him before something unpleasant, the better it went for her.

He withdraws his knuckles from her bruised titties, giving the nipples a quick twist. He reaches under the bench and pulls out the circular stainless steel shackle stored on the underside of the bench's surface. The shackle ratchets closed much like a handcuff, but has dull, half inch long points running all along the inner circumference of the ring. A short, but thick black rubber tie down stretches from it to underneath the bench, not letting the shackle travel far. Another shackle, identical to its mate, is pulled out from the other side of the workbench.

Clarissa eyes the breastcuffs nervously. She hated them so much.

“Mister Mike, if you would assist me please.” Ricardo gestured to his wife's heaving bosom. “I can get a better result with some help.”

Mike grins and pinches Clarissa's thick nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezes down on those fingers with his other hand, doubling down. Putting his back into it, he wrenches the fat titty straight up, the heavy underside jiggling as its pulled into a long cone, her torso leaving the table. Ryan quickly pushes down on the shoulders of the gasping woman, elongating the teat like a piece of taffy.

Impressed with the pair, Ricardo pulls the opened cuff up around the base of the painbag, the thick rubber tie downs stretching thinly as he muscles it into place. Using both hands, he crushes the ratcheting cuff closed, squeezing as hard as he can to compress her buxom chest at the very roots. The half inch long steel points were too dull to pierce her, but bit that much deeper into the tender mammary meat.

“Hu-aagghh!!” even Clarissa's extraordinary discipline isn't enough to keep her silent, and her groan turns into a cry of anguish when Ricardo releases the breastcuff, the tight rubber tie down instantly yanking her tit sideways and down, trying to pull it under the workbench.

“Ohhhhh owwwwww p-please my lov-”*Slap “Ouch!” Before she has a chance to complain, Mike slapped her other breast then yanked up on the nipple, pulling it tautly upwards.

Sinking the horrid little teeth into her other milkbag, Ricardo ratchets the pressure up to the maximum and releases the cuff, both titties now pulled sideways towards the edge of the bench, stretching under the load. If you looked at the little Brazilian whore from the side, it almost looked like she was strapped down across her chest to the bench, until you noticed the true insidious design of her restraint.

Softly groaning, miserable, Clarissa tries to block out the throbbing in her blushing breasts, doing her best to stay as quiet as possible. Even if she was brazen enough, she couldn't reach the underside of the table, and she didn't have the key to the breastcuffs. Like countless other times, she wasn't getting up from this workbench on her own.

Ricardo returned his attention to his wife's filthy cunt, remembering the ultimate objective of cleaning her up. Chelsea watches enthralled, knowing more than likely she would be next. She quivered slightly, Ryan holding onto her leash possessively.

Fixing a spreader bar to Clarissa's knees, Ricardo locks her open for his access. Making her raise her ass off the bench, he slides a short piece of 4x4 with dozens of sharp nails pointing straight up under her butt. Her core muscles were quickly tiring as they flexed and held her ass and pussy in the air. Without preamble, Ricardo shoves a funnel up her presented fuckpipe, the long tapered end reaching all the way to the back.

He opens the cap on the gallon jug of cleaning solution and pours into the funnel, Clarissa shrieking like a banshee. Thoughtlessly she tried to sit up, her ass bashing into nails below and her aching titbags stretching even farther out from her body. She got ahold of herself, and forced her scream down into a constant groan. The homemade solution was quite simple; 2 cups rubbing alcohol, a half cup of gasoline, and a cup and a half of strong astringent perfume. The rubbing alcohol froze at an extremely low temperature, so he could keep it in the freezer and it would retain its liquid form.

She really had it rough, the fat bass up her cunt was so rough and prickly it had etched countless microscopic cuts all along her fuckbox, the little scratches lighting up in pure fire as they were doused in the caustic fluid. It burned so much, and was so cold at the same time! Why, oh why wouldn't he let her just gently douche herself at the house?

Pulling the funnel from her, he jams the rough bristled pipe brush up inside her and starts swishing away, working the solution into a lightly bubbling lather, the strong fumes wafting through the air. “Ohh!!! Ngggghh!” she kept as quiet as possible, her eyes clenched shut, tears leaking down her face. The bristles scrubbed and scrubbed, scouring the fishy odor from her lining and freshening her up nicely. Her ass twitched up and down while he worked, the woman promptly thrusting her bristle-filled cunt back into the air each time the sharp nails stabbed into her shapely butt. He was sure to meet her upward thrusts with his downward stroke, punishing her deeply with the brush.

He scrubbed her out for less than a minute, 40 seconds actually, well aware of the damage that could be caused if one got carried away. Trusting in the potency of his chemistry, he shoves the nozzle of the water hose up inside her and rinses her out, his poor wife shuddering uncontrollably, the burning sensation not quite leaving her but lessening substantially. All said and done, she handled the process very well.

Chelsea did not.

Clarissa stared in disbelief at Chelsea as she shrieked, her tits savagely pulled far out sideways into mushroomed balls. Ryan was scrubbing down into her splayed out, suffering cuntflesh. Did the idiot girl not know they'd only hurt her harder for making all that noise? And why did she scream so much anyway, she was the one who had the worst fish up inside her.

“AHHHHHHH GOOOOOODDDDDDDD IT HURRTS” she shrilled, Ryan twisting the brush deeply into her cervix, trying to embed it into the little hole. Maybe he needed more lubricant? He rapidly yanked it from her cunt, before dipping it into the bottle of solution, rewetting it. He was running out of time.

“N-no, nonononono p-please PLEASE PLE-HAHHHRRRGHH!!” her neck muscles tensed and she arched magnificently, trying to roll off the table, the breastcuffs savagely pinning her in place, letting the girl herself jerk and tear at her painglobes. She clutched at her face as he twisted the brush, the tapered end finally sinking an inch into her womb, then four. Her thighs shook like a leaf as she trembled, screaming herself hoarse.

“It's been about 25 seconds my friend.” Ricardo advised him. “I wouldn't go much more than 40.”

“Oh, very well.” he pulled the brush from her and her head thudded backwards onto the table, the sweaty girl hyperventilating. Blissful cool water filled her cunt and irrigated her abused tissues, and she gasped and clutched at her face. How the hell did Clarissa put up with this regularly? And for twice as long?

Clarissa couldn't believe Chelsea didn't put up with it. What a fucking baby. Her life was going to be hard.

They released her from the table and Chelsea clutched at her sex while she lightly cried, finally calming somewhat. That burned so bad...and it was so cold. She didn't know what was worse.

“Fucktoy, ” Mike said quietly. “Why do you insist on proving Clarissa superior to you? Are you determined to make us punish you when we get home?”

Chelsea couldn't believe her ears. Punish her more?! For what?!

“Sir, no!” her voice quavered “it's not fair! Master Ryan, he...he used more solution on me than her! That was why! A-and she's used to it, it doesn't hurt her as bad!”

“Is that so?” Ricardo asked softly, not amused. “Well, my darling wife. It seems you've been an ungracious hostess, allowing our guest to suffer so much more grievously than yourself.” Clarissa's eyes widened. The opposite was true!! “Don't worry my love, I can help you to make amends. Bend over please.”

Clarissa gave Chelsea a withering glare of pure hatred before following her instructions, the girl instantly regretting getting Clarissa into trouble. Ricardo took a dried out pine cone from a nearby shelf, and inserted the tapered end into Clarissa's newly cleaned cunt.

“Ohh...” the end sank into her, the rough wood scratching her already tender and scoured tissues. She clutches her fingernails into her knees.

*Whack! Ricardo bashed the cone in with the palm of his hand, forcing her cunt to rasp over nearly half of it.

“Unggggh!!!!!” she bit her lip and moaned, tears instantly watering up in her eyes. The rough wood drove little splinters into her pussy, and her lips stretched white around the fat middle girth.

*Whack! Again he smacked the round pine cone, and it jumped up into her, her lips snapping closed to hide her new toy from view. Clarissa squealed, then her breath hitched when-

*Slap! *Slap! *Slap!

“Aiii! Ungh!!! Ohhhh!!” Ricardo spanked her three times on her cunt, the woman barely keeping herself in place. He then began to alternate between spanking her ass and spanking her pine cone stuffed pussy.

*Slap! “Ungh!” *Slap! “AiiiI!” *Slap! “uh!” Slap! Slap! Slap!

— ------------------------------

*Whack! “Nggggh!!! Godddd”

*Splat! “Ungggh!”

“SPLAT! “Ohhhhhh!!!”

Clarissa folded her hands neatly behind her back, pushing her chest forwards, while Ricardo was beating into his wife's tender fuckbags with a thick oiled strap. Mike and Ryan, making small talk, had revealed to Ricardo their lactation-inducing injections they subjected Chelsea to weekly, and mentioned their disappointment at the meager results. Ricardo, a rancher and expert on such things, insisted that the milk ducts needed to be warmed up before injection, and was demonstrating how to do that on his sexy unenthusiastic wife.

*WHAP! “Unghh!!” Clarissa's heavy flesh shimmied across her chest, the well oiled leather thunderously smacking into her peaks for the tenth time and sending the fatsacks flying. Her spanked pussy clenched around the pine cone still shoved up inside her. His demonstration over, he turned to face them. “The key, my friends, is to stimulate her right across her teats as hard as you can. Try to spur blood flow into the tissues beneath.”

Chelsea sat nearby with her hands on her head, precariously straddling a vibrating sybian. Ricardo only owned one, but announced he was sure his wife would be glad to share it with her guest. Made to press her entire cunt to the surface of the machine, her weight mostly resting at the apex between her thighs, Chelsea moaned wantonly. Her pussylips spread to either side of the happily buzzing bar, and her clit itself shook intensely under the mechanical stimulation.

It almost reminded her of sitting on the corner of the washing machine as a little girl, but so, so much better. She felt like she was falling into one orgasm after another.

Ryan lined up to Chelsea's side, the girl's eyes fearful as she moaned in pleasure. Copying Ricardo, he smashed her sensitive bags right across the teats with his own strap. *splat! “ungh!” Chelsea groaned, her little pink tips disappearing from view for a split second before her freshly stimulated sweatermeat absorbed the impact. “How was that?”

“Harder! She won't break! Really lay into her!”

*SPLAT! “G-Gaaaawwd!” Mike nailed her from the other side, turning his body with the strike to get maximum momentum. She came again from the sybian, her inner thighs glistening with her own wet secretions. The vibrations started to hurt a little, she was getting overstimulated.

“Excellent! If you warm the milkbags up like this before injection, I am sure you will get better results! I always did this to my wife before I administered her therapy, and she's always produced considerable quantities of milk.” He pinched Clarissa's nipple and jiggled it affectionately.

“S-sir, please, I don't think you need t-”

“I'm glad to hear it” Ryan interrupted Chelsea. “The dumb bitch barely makes any milk right now. We have to buy milk for her baking. BUY it.” He shook his head, neglecting to tell Ricardo the reason Chelsea's 'medicine' was so slow to induce greater lactation is that they watered it down with salt water and nettle extract.

*Whap! “Ungh! *SLAP! “Ga-aahh!” “Whap! “Ngggh!” Getting in a couple more practice swings, Mike and Ryan perfected their technique, Ricardo nodding happily. Chelsea groaned as they pummeled her chest, hands obediently not leaving the back of her head. She tried to shift her clit off of the sybian between strikes, but Ricardo noticed and pushed her shoulders down behind her, grinding her sex harder into the pleasuring bar, steering her towards another painful orgasm.

“OhhhHH!!!!” *Slap! “Nggghh! Ohhh” she moaned like a whore as she came yet again. Her brain was starting to feel fuzzy, she couldn't think straight.

“I think we've got it down.” Ryan announced. “We're going to shoot her bags up with her medicine tomorrow, so we'll definitely do this beforehand. I think we'll use some heavier straps though.” Chelsea groaned at his words, not at all happy at this latest addition to her 'milk therapy.' Ricardo put his arm around Ryan's shoulders and whispered to him out of Chelsea's earshot, giving him more advice about Chelsea's milky painbags.

“Excuse me, Sirs” Clarissa approached her husband and his friends, a sweaty Chelsea still bucking on the sybian next to them. “Would it be alright if I went and got a drink of water? I'm pretty thirsty...”

“Oh! Sweetheart, of course, I'm sorry I've neglected you. I suppose you are thirsty as well?” Ricardo looked at Chelsea, moaning on the sybian. She nodded “Yes sir, uhhh! I'm thirsty too.”

“Wonderful!” Ricardo clapped his hands together. “In that case, we'll continue showing our guests around and get some drinks. I'll show you the puppy I have picked out for you as well!” Clarissa smiled weakly at her husband and thanked him. She was a little suspicious, he was being exceptionally cruel today after all.

“Hold Ricardo” Ryan held up his hand “I'm anxious to try the alternative remedy you just suggested. Since you have the equipment available...”

“Of course! In that case, Mike and I will send Clarissa back with refreshment. You and your whore may stay here, you will find everything you need in that crate.” He nodded to a large box sitting on a pallet in the corner of the barn. His wife looked pityingly at the alarmed Chelsea, then remembered how the stupid tart was the reason she had this god damn pine cone up her cunt. Her sympathy evaporated.

— -----------------------------

While Chelsea rode the sybian and Ryan made his way over to the large crate of equipment, Mike, Ricardo, and Clarissa exited the huge barn doors and strolled leisurely towards the animal pens. Clarissa shuffled along awkwardly, her shaven pussy rubbing irritably against the pine cone still stuffing her.

Here Ricardo kept his pigs and, adjacent to them, the kennels housing his dogs.

There were dozens of pigs rooting around in the pig sty, Mike impressed that Ricardo managed to be so productive. His wife must work really hard here. He noticed that all the boars had collars on them, but not the sows. He supposed it made them easier to handle.

Approaching the fence and watching the swine, Ricardo turned to Clarissa.

“Here you are slut. Liquid refreshment. You wanted a drink, well, you can suck on these pig cocks for as long as it takes to satisfy you.”

“I-...I can suck them, but can I have a small glass of water fir-”

“This is all you will get today. The rest of the day you will either drink from hog balls, or you will get nothing at all!” Clarissa flushed prettily, disheartened. He made her suck the pigs' cocks often, but usually it was just one or two! She needed water!

“...y-yes dear, if you say so.” Mike grinned as he watched the beautiful woman shakily open the pen gate. Ricardo really had his bitch well trained.

She whistled at the pigs and a whole pack ran up to her, expecting some slop for dinner. She gently grasped at the collar around the closest boar and led him to a funny looking small animal crate in the corner. Opening the front of the crate, she drug the pig inside and flipped him over onto his back, the pig squealing as she quickly closed it. The pig's legs and lower half stuck out kicking in the air, the animal unable to roll over and escape.

“We'll she's clearly done this before.” Mike laughed, and Ricardo smiled at him. “My wife knows her place, I've made sure of that.”

It only took Clarissa a few moments to arouse the hog. Carefully diving down between its kicking legs, she gently rubbed its massive balls and licked all around the entrance to its cock sheath. The pig smelled, and she wrinkled her nose as she bathed the fat hairy balls with her tongue, not too unlike a man's testicles but bigger. She rubbed his belly to reassure him as she worked.

Gradually a comically thin, spiraled, red hog penis poked its way out, it's elongation greatly accelerated when Clarissa sucked it into her mouth. It tasted unwashed and sour, and she gagged a little as she rolled the little tube around in her mouth, sucking gently. It was like a fleshy little twisty straw.

The pig humped into her face, his spiraled cock spasming and shooting a load of pig jizz into her mouth. She swallowed thirstily and retched, never able to completely get accustomed to the taste. It was just so...wrong.

She knew from experience the hogs usually had more to give so she kept nursing on the stringy little thing, flicking her tongue all along the pinkish-red flesh. Gobbling the cock all the way down, she tried to suck the large fat balls into her mouth as well, the cock coiling slightly on the back of her tongue. They were just too big though to fit.

Mike sported a large hard on as he watched her. He'd never seen a woman blow a pig before. What a weird looking dick!

“hmmmmm....” Clarissa hummed into the pig, getting impatient, and the swine bathed her throat with another watery splash. The cum was a bright white, but thinner than that of a man's. She swallowed it all down, angry she was made to do this, but accepted no other alternative. She was so thirsty, and this was her only option.

She spat the little porker out and opened the crate, the pig rolling over sniffing her face.

Pushing it out of the way, she whistled the hogs over again...

— ------------------------

While Ricardo's whorish wife drank her fill, Mike decided to take a peek in the adjacent kennel. Ricardo accompanied him, he would show him the puppy he was gifting them.

There were about 15 adult dogs in the kennels and 20 puppies, lots of hounds and hunting dogs of various type, some large, some small. Ricardo made a nice profit breeding and selling off the hounds. Opening up an isolated cage, Ricardo picked up a little furry brown puppy, showing him to Mike.

“Purebreds are overrated, they have all sorts of health problems from inbreeding. What you want, senor, is a mutt. This little guy here was just born a few weeks ago, he's a Great Dane and Bull Mastiff mix...he'll grow into a big and strong beast that will be your whore's companion for years to come.” Mike half listened, his eye on the bedroll and pillow he saw in the middle of the large common pen, amidst the litters of puppies and bitches.

“He looks like a fine pup.” Mike agreed. “Does someone sleep there?”

“My wife” Ricardo smiled. “We established long ago she was nothing but a bitch, so I keep her in the kennels most nights.”

It was true. Clarissa spent many a cold night laying with the dogs for warmth, used to the little furry bodies crawling around her. Probing wet noses and tongues often investigated the scent between her legs while she tried to sleep. Every time there was a new litter, which was nearly all year round, mewling hungry puppies would latch onto her nipples, waking her up. Often teething and not knowing the difference between her milk and a dog's, they'd suck and chew wetly on the rubbery teats, Clarissa explicitly prohibited from stopping them. She did her best to fall back asleep, but the sharp little teeth rarely let her.

Ricardo would also of course breed her with the sires periodically, making Clarissa an involuntary expert when it came to the size and shape of cocks of various breeds. Her knowledge was consulted when he decided to sire a bull mastiff with a great dane bitch, and she told him those two huge breeds made her cunt ache the next day the most. Trusting his wife but trusting evidence even more, Ricardo put her through a series of monitored matings with all his great danes and mastiffs. He took extensive notes and scored things such as cock size, knot girth, stamina, and even how much noise his wife made when their knots squeezed into her. Denied rest, she ran the whole gauntlet of the eight canines one after another three times, her stoic face reduced to bawling tears by the time the last massive cock pounded her so-sore twat, the knot popping in and out tightly with each tube-reshaping lunge. Thus were produced the puppies from which Mike and Ryan were partaking, Ricardo selecting the highest scoring mastiff to breed with the bitch daughter of the second highest scoring great dane.

Yes, his wife was quite the whore for science. She didn't walk properly for two weeks.

Now Clarissa found herself not in the kennels but in the pig pens. She suckled greedily on yet another pig cock, pulling the long thin tube to the back of her throat. She poked her tongue down through the single coil, then sucked on it while she pulled her head back, stretching it almost straight like a piece of spaghetti on the upward draw. Bobbing her head back down, the skinny end poking at her throat, the cock coiled once around her tongue again. The tiny slit on the end erupted some more juice for her efforts, the woman gulping it down and feeling less thirsty after her 18th pig load. A few drips of cum ran from her nose, a few of the happy, sweaty pigs managing to explode so strongly it traveled up her nasal passage.

*Slurp! “She pulled her mouth wetly off the hog, still sucking until it popped free.

“I'm not thirsty anymore Sir” she said huskily to her husband, sitting back upright. She was a hot mess, her pretty mascara running down her face and mixing with the pig cum, her lips glistening.

Ricardo smiled at her, tossing her an empty water bottle. “You're not quite done, cunt. If you would, fill that for Chelsea, she's thirsty too. You can't be selfish all the time, you know. Use only your mouth.”

“...yes sir.” Clarissa answered throatily, the entire length of her esophagus slick with white hog jizz. She sighed and released the fat pig from the crate, calling another over. Mike entered the pen as she guzzled another thin pecker down, this one straighter and poking just barely into her throat. She inhaled deeply with her nose pressed to the sweaty pig's belly, the musk from the balls nestled up to her lower lip washing over her.

Mike was horny and decided it was time he enjoyed the sexy slut's pussy wrapped around his dick. He knelt down and pried her lips open with his hands, looking at the scratchy pine cone nestled inside her. He pinched a hold of it and started slowly sliding it out.

“mmmgh” Clarissa moaned painfully, her mouth occupied with pig dick. The sharp edges scratch all along her already agitated lining, the entrance to her cunt widening to pass over the unforgiving ball of wood. She quickly slid her fuckmouth off the pig and spit into the bottle, dripping a large load into it, and started groaning.

“Ow, ow!”

Trying to ignore what he was doing between her legs, she resumed her womanly duties, stuffing her face again, the pig meat quieting her down like a pacifier. Mike gave the pine cone a final tug and it popped free, the pretty slit quivering, primed for use.

Mike intended to enjoy this whore, she was exceptionally pretty and would do anything. Fishing his throbbing cock out of his pants, he slowly slid it home into her, savoring the tight, wet heat. Clarissa spat another heavy load into the water bottle while he picked up speed.

“Ugh! Thank you *uh! Sir for filling me with your cock!” she squeezed her cunt as she thanked him, and remaining on her hands and knees whistled for another pig. Mike kept railing her from behind while she awkwardly guided the pig to the crate. Gathering her long black hair into his fist and wrenching her head back, he forced tears into the corners of the woman's eyes.

“Uh...uh....ungh! Oww, sir please!” she protested, trying to pull her mouth down to the pig below. “I n-neeed to keep sucking *Spank! Ungggh!” He smacked her white jiggling asscheeks while he slammed into her, the drooling pussy wetly squelching around him. Amused at her sluttish affinity with farm animals, he releases her hair and smacks both hands down onto her hips, grasping her tightly and driving her down into the ground, his powerful cock lunges pushing her face into the hog balls below. Clarissa licked sloppily at the pig while she breathed hotly on him.

Her tired jaw ached from all the cocksucking she was doing, but she dutifully sucked off another four pigs and kept going, spitting more and more cum into the water bottle long after Mike had flooded her womb with his seed. She was a great fuck. She had a good 3 inches of pig cum sloshing around inside the bottle by now, so when Ricardo held out the turkey baster he sometimes used for artificial insemination, Mike had no trouble filling it, sucking up the vast majority of her efforts into it thus far.

The dismayed beauty coughed into the latest straw-like pig cock, slurping as her mouth slowly filled with cum for another deposit into the bottle, accidentally swallowing a little. She eyed the bottle's fluid level as it disappeared up into the baster and grunted angrily. She had to practically start over! Spitting the floppy meat out she spit more juice into it and complained.

“Sir! I need that! It's for your whore's drink, don't make start all oveEERRR Aiii!” She squealed as Mike shoved the disgusting, dripping turkey baster up into her cunt, roughly banging the tip into her cervix. He missed so he shoved again, finding her little womb hole this time. Wrenching it forwards, the tapering end dilated her open as it implanted into the core of her femininity.

“Owww! Caralho! N-gh!” she cursed at the rough penetration. Mike squeezed the bulb and she wetly felt the multiple pig loads of her laborious suckling flood her deeply within. The surging stream bathed the inside of her womb completely, sloshing around inside her as it mixed with his own cum he had naturally deposited so recently.

Sloppily whitewashed inside and more than a little disgusted at the state of her own pussy, she ran her cum slick fingers through her hair, her other hand clawing at the ground. “Ungh! D-damn it....” Mike jostled the baster back and forth a bit before pulling it out, her wet cunt lips slowly leaked the mixed cum, the majority staying up inside her baby chamber.

“You deserved some of that batter inside you, fuckpig. Say thank you.” *Slap! He smacked her cunt lips, making them slightly blush a rosy hue.

“Ugh t-thank you Sir. I am a fuckpig, you are right.”

“You're also fucking useless.” The voice of her husband. Standing beside Mike behind her, wearing thick latex gloves, he glared down at her. “You're supposed to be filling this bottle, and look how little you've accomplished!” He ominously held the pine cone in his hand Mike had pulled out of her pussy earlier. “And did I not tell you to keep this inside of you today!?” He crushed the cone into pieces in his hand, turning it into a pile of wooden shards.

“H-honey, please, I have been filling it. Th-this man-ah! Ahhh!!” Ricardo started stuffing her slovenly fuckpipe with the shards, prying her lips open with one hand while shoving bits of pine cone in with the other. “Ow! Owwww!” her irritated tube clenched uncomfortably as it was stuffed, Ricardo not stopping until he had packed the entirety of the pine cone back where it belonged, albeit in smaller pieces. She moaned miserably, the shards mixing with the sloppy cum lining her insides, holding it in like wet glue.

“Get back to work, you selfish cunt. You still have a thirsty guest waiting.”

Wearily lowering her face to the pig below, she tiredly sucked the half-hard, curling cock back into her mouth, feeling like little more than an abused cum receptacle. The hog, unable to see her, was startled and kicked wildly on its back, a wayward foot smashing into her dangling tits, making her groan. She was running out of pigs to suck dry, but Ricardo would let her make up the difference in the kennels if necessary.

She started crying when Ricardo, thick gloves still on, began fingerbanging her shard-stuffed pussy.

— -----------------------------------

*Click!

“Huuaaaaaaaaghh Gaaaaawd!!!!!!”

Back in the barn, Chelsea's underperforming milkbags jiggled heavily as she lightly shook, the girl crying out pitiably. Disappointed with her modest yields, Ryan was subjecting her to some intense electrotherapy, designed by Ricardo, to help stimulate her milk glands. He riffled through Ricardo's notes in his hands, painstakingly gathered through trial and error with his wife, and fiddled with the dials to adjust the generator's settings.

A sweaty, groaning Chelsea was sitting precariously on a floor-mounted steel pole which split into two, supporting a pair of fat, inflexible vibrators. The longer vibrator was nestled up her ass while the girthier one speared cunt, her widened holes stretched thinly as they supported the vast majority of her weight. Her knees were spread like a butterfly, and her feet, still wearing her short heeled pumps, fell a few inches too short to reach the floor. They curled in and slid as she tried to get traction on the pole, to lift her weight from her abused fuckholes. Unfortunately the wet girl cum running from her vibrated pussy slowly coated the shiny slippery pole, and it was too slick for her feet to have any friction. Naturally her elbows and wrists were tied together behind her back.

“Ugggggh Sir please” Chelsea gasped at him “This isn't necessary, please, I am m-making more and more milk! It's j-just taking some time!” Her fat meatsacks bulged obscenely, a tight copper ring, much too little for her substantial bust, had been greased up and slid over each mammary to the base. Ryan had to use copious amounts of lubrication, but had at last completely wrenched each fat tit through the small rings, yanking fiercely on her rubbery nipples with pliers.

Thin rope ran from these rings to eyebolts in the ceiling, taking up some of her weight but mostly just keeping her upright on her pole. Wire terminals had been mounted to the copper rings strangling her titties, allowing Ryan to plug her into the little electric generator.

He ran a hot wire to her left breast ring, a jumper connecting the two rings across the middle, and the return line back to the generator. She had made some noise when he flipped the switch, but it didn't seem to be all that effective. He consulted the notes.

“Let's see, it looks like we might get better results if we up the ampacity a little...” he turned a little dial.

“W-wait! I-it's because you water down my shots sir!” thoughts of the long syringes plunging into her titties weekly passed through her mind, pumping her full of hormones. Her masters added a substantial amount of salt water and nettle extract to it everytime. “I-If you didn't do that, I'm sure it would be more *click! effectIIIVIVVEE!!!!! OWwwww!” Chelsea thrashed when Ryan flipped the switch, sending a surging current across her sweaty breastflesh.

“Unnnngggh s-s-s-sttooooop pleeeeease!!!!” her whole body tensed up, the vibrators relentlessly buzzing away inside of her throughout her ordeal. She sagged a little when the current stopped, looking wild eyed. Ryan spun the little dial marked VOLTAGE.

*Click!

“Aiiiiahahh!!!!!” her milk-filled titbags were mercilessly electrified, Ryan running through all Ricardo's previous trials, following in his footsteps. More amps, more voltage, more voltage and less amps, DC current, AC current, he tried them all. All Chelsea could do was cry herself hoarse, her stuffed, aching fuckholes not letting her escape from the pole. Her blonde hair was soaked and matted to her face, the sweating girl hyperventilating in her panic.

After an hour of trial and error, Mike, Ricardo, and his fuckslut Clarissa returned to the barn. Clarissa looked tired and haggard, cum still glistening on her lips as she limped along, wincing with each step she took. In her hand she grasped a water bottle. He wondered what they had been up to to take so long.

Wearing thick latex gloves, her husband, stuffing her full of pine cone shards and fingerbanging her, had been enamored with the pretty little sounds she was making and had gotten carried away. His two fingers became three, then four, and finally his entire hand had sunk into her abused womanhood. The fat fist had ruthlessly reamed her out, stretching her aching muscles wide open, the crushed pine cone shards scratching and abrading her tender insides raw while the big knuckles crashed into the entrance of her cum-drenched womb. Clarissa would be walking funny for a while. She prayed Ricardo wouldn't make her ride the bronco again tomorrow.

Despite her cunt being brutally bored out, Clarissa had managed to spit enough pig, and later dog, cum into the bottle to fill it to the brim. Ice cubes were added, and Chelsea's drink was finally prepared. Better late than never.

Chelsea wasn't concerned at all about her thirst at the moment - turning the page, Ryan was modifying her therapy into an alternate configuration. He removed all hot electrical connections on her copper tit rings, and ran a single return wire from each breast-strangling band to the generator. Taking two long, gleaming needles, he slowly pushed the sharp implements into her teats, directly into the mammary meat below. He carefully aligned the angle, aiming straight for the heart of each wayward orb.

“ahh! Ouch! Ahhh!!Ohhhhhhh!!” Chelsea moaned as inch after agonizingly slow inch sank into her, the sharp tips coming to rest perfectly at the very center of each tender boob. A mere inch remained poking out of her.

“Go on slut, give her her drink. The girl has to be dying of thirst.” Ricardo spurred his wife forwards, and she reluctantly raised the disgusting bottle to Chelsea's lips.

“Oww oww wh-what's that? I don't want-mmph” Clarissa pushed the bottle into her mouth and gently squeezed it, squirting a little of the white gooey juices onto her tongue. Chelsea gagged and retched, ice cold pig and dog cum, and Clarissa's saliva, washing over her tastebuds. Clarissa retracted the bottle and Chelsea spat, so Ryan slapped her face with a resounding whack!

“Drink it slut! Our host went to the trouble of getting this for you, you can at least show some gratitude!” The bottle was again raised to her lips and squeezed, flooding her gulping mouth with the vile mixture while Ryan clipped the hot leads to each protruding breast needle.

*Click!

Cum sprayed out of Chelsea's face as she choked and spluttered, the powerful voltage slamming deep into the very centers of her suffering breasts. “Ahhhhh UhhaaaaahhHHH!!! N-NooooO!!!” The electricity surged down through her impaled nipples then spread out in all directions to make contact with the copper bands encircling the strangled the bases. He let it run a little bit longer this time, letting her get used to the feeling to prepare her for what was to come.

*Gasp! “I-it's tooooo much Sir. You're going to kill m-mpppggggckk!!!” Chelsea couldn't continue her whining, instead finding her cum bottle in her mouth again, her throat working to swallow more and more so she could breathe. She watched Ryan adjust the dials with panicked eyes while Clarissa squeezed her bottle again. Would she fucking stop already?!

*Click!

Her aching fucksacks were savagely fried again and again, her heartless captors only occasionally stopping to adjust settings and hydrate her with more cum, Chelsea eventually draining the entire bottle. They even left her alone on her pole to go eat dinner, moaning and crying, as her tits throbbed under the lowest settings, a constant current passing through her chest. Of course when they returned, Ryan spun the dials back up to maximum for an agonizing second, knocking the wind out of her.

He seemed to get the best results with a medium-high voltage and high current, the squeaking girl's voice rising an octave as she made her funbags dance. The milk within her conducted the electricity well, the current traveling all along the pathways of her milk ducts. Too much power, and she'd start to go numb with the pain and risk damage, so finding this sweet spot was key. You wanted the ideal setting where the motherly milk would be on the verge of sizzling inside her mammaries, and judging by the pitiful high-pitched whine Chelsea was making, he had found it.

Since they couldn't take Ricardo's generator with them, they made the most of their visit and decided to keep Chelsea pole mounted late into the dead of night, ignoring her pained whimpering and begging entreaties. They played poker right there in the barn and had Clarissa make them cocktails up at the house, the sexy woman sinking to her knees to blow them every time she brought another glass, cleaned up and freshly showered. Ricardo forbade her from swallowing, withholding liquid from her, and made her spit their loads into Chelsea's mouth. He suspected she was lying about not being thirsty again, since he had told her she would only be drinking pig cum today.

Annoyed with this, when she wasn't making drinks or blowing them he forced her to kneel and spit constantly into a bowl. He threatened to beat her most severely if she stopped, and so for the next hour and a half she spent her time slowly filling the bowl up, what precious liquid she had obtained earlier evacuated from her body, her mouth producing saliva as fast as it was able. She poured her gathered spit into Chelsea's mouth periodically, perversely hydrating her, while Clarissa got thirstier and thirstier. He made her dryly choke down extra salty crackers every 5 minutes to hurry things along.

A tiny droplet of spittle dripping from her dry mouth into the bowl, the woman finally couldn't stand it anymore. “Please love, may I have some water?” she timidly asked Ricardo. She would have done anything for a proper drink.

“You heard me before. You may be excused to the pens if you so wish.”

“..I...o-okay.”

Reluctantly the parched woman rose to her feet, off to the pens to drown her sorrows in more hog cum. She was going to have to drain nearly all their balls to slake her thirst this time.

Another hour passed, and Mike suddenly asked an ill-boding question.

“So, milk stays fresher cold, right?”

— ----------------

To Chelsea's complete distress, the relief of the generator being shut down was eclipsed by the fear she felt as she plummeted to the floor. Ryan had quickly cut the ropes leading from her copper breast rings to the ceiling, and, no longer supported upright, the nearly unconscious girl fell face forwards off the pole, her fuckholes wetly slipping off the filling vibrators with a squelch.

She weakly thudded to the floor right onto her suffering chest, her cuffed wrists and elbows behind her unable to arrest her fall. Mike had stood at the ready, sticking his leather boot out so her forehead crashed on top of it, saving her skull from the unforgiving concrete.

Her fuckbags weren't so lucky. The hard rough floor crushed her bosom to her chest and drove the long sharp needles piercing her nipples even deeper. The wire lead clips were now flush with the teats, the inch or so of previously exposed gleaming needle savagely punched into the gasping girl. The sharp tips now completely speared through the tender central breastmeat, passing through it to nearly touch her chest wall.

“Goddddddd p-please pleeeeeease help me, it hurts!” she found her voice again, pleading with her masters.

“Just a few more hours slut, then we'll head home.”

Ricardo grabbed a fistful of Chelsea's hair and pulled her head back, raising her upper chest off the floor. With the other hand he slid a wide metal oil pan he had filled half with water, half with ice beneath her heavily dangling, skewered mammaries. He drops her.

*Splash!

“Ohhhhhhh it's c-c-c-coooold!!!” she writhes and tries to get up, but Ryan sits on her back and starts hogtying her. He pulls her ankles towards her ass and ties them to her cuffed wrists, then for good measure ties a rope in her hair to her ankles, savagely pulling her into a backwards arch. Her submerged titties are rapidly cooling, the iced down nipples hardening painfully around the steel needles piercing through them. The wires ran up out of the frigid water to the generator, the leads still clipped to the needles buried in her titmeat, the return current lines terminated on the copper rings crushing the bases.

Satisfied, Ryan gets off her and Ricardo runs a short rope over her back but under her arms, near her armpits, laying the ends to either side of her torso. On both sides of her he screws down two 3 inch washered tapcons through the rope ends near her body into the concrete floor, anchoring her down. To make sure she can't roll over and is tightly fixed in place, he pushes a thin, short piece of pipe underneath the rope on her back and starts spinning it, each complete turn shortening the rope and pushing her chest harder and harder into the floor, pinning the oil pan beneath her. Unable to pull herself back, her hefty painsacks sank completely into the frigid water, the nipples beginning to turn a light shade of blue.

Her teeth chattering, the ice water was achingly cold, her nerves fired up in painful warning. Ryan drained a little water from the pan, dropping the water line just enough to submerge only three quarters of her breasts, making sure to keep her chest wall, and heart, clear. In a way it almost started to feel good, her chest starting to slightly numb...and then the generator was fired back up again.

The dreadful voltage, dialed down a bit, slammed back into her ice-cold breastflesh with a vengeance. Now traveling a further inch down into her delicate womanly orbs, the electricity spirals out powerfully, ultimately drawn to the copper return rings garroting the roots of her tits. The water conducts it all across the surface of her tits, and her milk-filled ducts, tapping into the current from the tenderly inserted, spearing needles, carried it like a web through the interior of the suffering breastflesh.

“Ungggh!!!! OhhHHH!!” She moans in agony, her brain trying to sort through the overload of stimulation, freezing water coupled with electrocuting pain. A tear rolls down her face when she sees Ryan reach for the dials again.

“No! No no pleeease---AAAAH!!” Ryan slowly adjusts the voltage dial back to the carefully measured medium-high voltage they had so painstakingly determined earlier. In contrast, he abruptly ramped up the amps severely, her blue-tinged rock hard teats contracting tightly under the load. A brief spark shot off from the wire terminations on the generator as it stepped up output.

Chelsea thought her tits were going to explode. Her fatsacks were hostess to two tremendous contrasting forces. While the freezing ice water drained all warmth out of her aching breastflesh, wreaking havoc on her nipples and causing a powerful throbbing throughout the entirety of her cold, meaty bust, the brutal current arcing inside fought back, heating up the breastly centers in the heart of her tits, trying to fry her inside out. It was total war.

Ryan, getting an ear for this sort of thing, noticed she wasn't quite making the same tones as before. She was a little more throaty now.

“Well that just won't do, fuckslut.” he admonished her. “You have to be up to the proper levels of soreness.”

Suspecting the near-frozen water was having a greater cooling effect on the burning electricity than he had guessed, he gently raised both the amps and voltage more, barely turning the dials while he listened carefully. The shock steadily grew stronger and stronger, until finally the womanly cream within her frosty fuckbags was once again on the cusp of sizzling, the settings a full 25 percent higher than before. Ryan knew he had once more found the sweet spot by her telltale high-pitched whines, her voice barely squeaking out her wordless misery in staccato.

Monitoring the ice levels, they occasionally added more cubes while draining a small amount of water to keep it balanced. They let her indulge in her therapy for another 3 hours, hoping she appreciated all the effort they were putting into increasing her milk capacity. As time went on her tormented titties gradually turned an angry red color, a byproduct of both the cold and electrical shocks, but her glass-cutting nipples remained a purplish-blue.

Leaving Ricardo's ranch late, they fondly bid their farewells, shaking hands with Ricardo and shoving their tongues down Clarissa's throat while they briefly fingered her still aching, abused cunt. Ricardo was welcome to visit them anytime. A crying Chelsea was collapsed in the backseat of the cruiser, their brand new puppy sniffing curiously between her legs. Mike regarded her for a moment, then started the car. He couldn't wait to give her her breast shots tomorrow.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.

Domesticating The Fucktoy Pt. 3

Synopsis: A kidnapped and enslaved girl is made to play with her new puppy. Unfortunately his little size necessitates the use of one of her smaller holes.

— ----

Chelsea was playing with her new puppy.

Well, he wasn't really hers, he belonged to Mike and Ryan, the two cops that had kidnapped and enslaved her nearly a year ago. He wasn't even close to his full size yet, and she had the responsibility of caring for and playing with him.

In those early days when they had first brought him home, Mike and Ryan had decided to name him Asmodeus. After all, he was a mix of a great dane and bull mastiff, both huge breeds, and Asmodeus was a demon known for his huge size and strength. Back then though he was a little mewling thing, and Chelsea even thought he was cute. She loved the little pup, at first anyway. They called him Asmo for short, and his playful nature brought her happiness in her situation.

Then Ryan started demanding she suckle the little dog's cock regularly, and her fondness for Asmo evaporated. Not only was she being thoroughly fucked and humiliated by Mike and Ryan daily, but now she had to pleasure the dog too.

Every night when Mike would sit to watch TV for an hour or two, Chelsea would be on her knees in front of the TV with little Asmo laying atop the coffee table on his back. Humiliated and degraded, she would be instructed to take little Asmo's always soft puppy cock into her mouth and suck, rolling the small furry little balls around and tonguing the sheath. Asmo would kick the air and pant happily, but that was the furthest it went; he was just too young to erect. Often times Ryan was present, as he was Mike's best friend and spent a lot of time at his home.

"Open your mouth, slut. I want to check for cum."

Chelsea felt her ears and neck redden in embarrassment, but spat out the little dogs soft package and opened up her mouth. She stuck her tongue out to show there was nothing. She didn't know why they expected any different, it was always like this. She glared at him as she held her mouth open.

"That attitude of yours is why you need these lessons." Mike said. "Get that cock back in your mouth and think about how it's your duty to please it."

"Yes sir. Sorry."

Sighing, Chelsea sucked the little dog back into her mouth. She wouldn't exactly call it a cock at this point, more like a flacid little ball bag with a hidden shaft. The only reason she obeyed these monsters was because her brother Andy was being held in a cell in the basement, completely at these psychotic people's mercy. She had to keep him alive no matter what. She drooled around Asmo, her saliva coating the fur between his legs while the puppy huffed and tried to stand up. She held him firm and suckled wetly. Still, he never got hard and she never tasted a drop of cum.

Time passed and another six months went by. At this age, Asmo was more of an awkward teenager, and he had noticeably been more excited in the evening when it was time for Chelsea to drop to her knees at the coffee table. He would run and jump up onto the table, laying on his back and waiting, tail wagging. As she'd wrap her lips around him, she's inhale his scent. He smelled different somehow lately, more musky. It wasn't unpleasant to her.

One day they came home from a day at the police station, where Chelsea had spent most of the day being agonizingly fisted up her butt by the sadistic dyke Diane. With her mascara dried in runs down her face, she was currently being stripped of her clothes. She wasn't allowed clothes at home. Moving gingerly, she could still feel where the bitch's nails had raked back and forth deep up her ass. Suddenly Asmo ran up and started humping her leg. Embarrassed, she tried to shake him off, but Mike was delighted.

"Leave him alone slut! I think Asmo is finally growing up!"

Chelsea stopped fighting the puppy and watched red faced as Asmo's little cock slowly extended from its sheath, running up against her leg.

"Oh...fuck" she muttered.

She felt a pit drop in her stomach. He was finally able to get hard.

Mike guffawed. "Let me call Ryan and get him over here. You know what I want you to do, right slut?"

"I...yes, sir. I can guess." She sank sadly to her knees in front of the coffee table. She assumed she would have to suck him off again, this time fully hard and extended. She sniffled.

— --------------------------------------------

Chelsea wasn't sucking off Asmo. She had been wrong in her assumption.

Miserable face planted into her crossed arms on the floor, her nipples grazing the carpet, Chelsea held her ass up in the air while Ryan gleefully sat a short stool behind her. Asmo was going to get to fuck her properly today for the first time.

"That's it bitch, arch your back. Keep that ass up and your legs spread." Ryan rubbed her pussy as he spoke. "Asmo's going to need your help."

Chelsea cried her tears quietly, despairing. Despite all this time, these two horrible men still found ways to humiliate and debase her. She had fully expected to be fucked by the dog at some point, but it didn't make it any easier. It didn't make it any less degrading to cheapen her to a puppy's bitch.

"But Sir he's so little" she protested, trying to ignore his rubbing of her vulva. "I mean, he's little...down there. I don't think it will work..." she trailed off. She knew it was pointless to try to change his mind. Once Mike or Ryan decided they wanted to do something, she could not dissuade them.

"Yeah, that whorish cunt is a little big and loose for him. But he deserves to give it a shot, and you're going to help him." She sniffed into her arms again. She wasn't loose at all, she was remarkably tight especially considering the heavy workouts her pussy got these days.

She felt Asmo's little front paws on her ass as the pup scrambled up onto the stool, Ryan guiding him. Mike was letting Ryan take point on this one, and watched nearby smiling. The puppy's back claws clacked on the wood of the stool and he yipped playfully, already humping against her butt. She felt the little red rocket poking and rubbing against her ass cheek.

"Oh God...this is so embarrassing." She tilted her head and watched backwards between her legs. She could see the little cock bobbing as Asmo humped at her. He was gently but firmly held in the right place by Ryan's grip on his collar.

"Reach back and guide him in whore. We don't have all day" Mike commanded her, his hands in his pockets as he watched.

Biting her lip and looking visibly upset, Chelsea reached a shaking hand under and between her legs and gently grasped the little doggy cock. Asmo was humping into her hand as she guided the tip into her waiting pussy. She supposed she would be able to deal with it, after all he was so small still it wasn't like he could hurt her.

She barely felt the little guy. Asmo may have been selectively bred so he'd grow into a well-hung behemoth of a dog, but right now his little pecker felt like a little pickle as it slipped past her entrance. He barely sank in 2 inches, and started humping wildly.

"Squeeze down whore, help him out." She flushed but did as she was told, squeezing her muscles. Her pussy fluttered but still got only a little friction. Asmo popped out awkwardly.

"Get that cock back inside you where it belongs!" Ryan shouted, and her hand shot up quickly to guide him back inside.

"I'm- I"m sorry!"

For next five minutes Asmo humped into her ineffectively, his short length easily withdrawing too far and slipping out of her pussy. Ryan watched with growing anger as it happened again and again, Chelsea's fingers belatedly guiding the cock back inside. She squeezed her aching cunt muscles as hard as she could, trying desperately to keep him inside. When it happened for the 5th time and she shifted up onto her elbows to rearrange herself better, Ryan started shouting at her.

"How fucking worthless are you?! Get back into position! You can't even keep a dick inside of that loose twat?! That's literally the only thing you're made for!"

She quickly crossed her arms and arched her back again, and guided Asmo back in with a shaking hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! He's just so little, it keeps-"

"I don't want to hear it!" He cut her off. "I told you to squeeze harder, do you not fucking listen?!" His eyes narrowed. "I guess it's time for plan B. You're going to regret fucking this up, slut."

Chelsea felt her panic rising at his angry tone. "S-sir p-please, don't hurt me Sir I'm squeezing so hard, really! I-aii!" She squeals as Ryan's hand painfully gripped her long blonde hair, and started yanking her towards the garage. Asmo followed happily, his little cock swinging comically.

— --------------------------------------------

'She fuckin' hates me, trust she fuckin' hates me, la la la laaaa'

The rock music blasted from the radio in the garage. It was more of a man cave really, with a sofa and posters of naked women everywhere. Many of the pictures were of Chelsea in various painful poses, and the one that mortified her most was the black and white close up of her vagina, spread achingly wide by a speculum with her cervix visible. The walls were also lined with an assortment of ominous looking tools. Chelsea hated this place.

Her tears ran in rivers down her face, soaking into the coarse wood of the workbench pressing into her flattened cheek. "Oh---owww gawwd whyyyy?" She moaned and looked up at Ryan, and he regarded her coldly. A collar around her neck kept her face to the surface.

"You've proven you can't be trusted to keep position, so apparently I need to restrain you."

He had bound her arms behind her tightly. Her legs had been doubled up and tied around her ankles and upper thighs, with her feet resting near the gentle swells of her ass cheeks. She was face down on the workbench, laying flat with her head turned to the side.

He was quite fond of this special workbench. He and Mike had cut a large rectangular hole into the surface, and as Chelsea lay atop of it her full breasts dangled through the cut out.

Two large, heavy duty vices, each weighing easily forty pounds, were tightened around her hanging breasts. The vices were not mounted to anything, and thus swung gently from her chest. The weight pulled down heavily on her tits, stretching her funbags from her chest while she moaned piteously, trying to stay as still as possible. They were tightened around the middle swells, right around the meatiest part of her feminine bust.

Ryan gave each handle on the vices another partial turn, and she squealed and shook trying to get up. She didn't get far, the collar around her neck was secured to the surface of the bench. At best she could squirm her body, and he was about to take care of that.

"So. Not only could you not keep Asmo's cock inside you, but you refused to keep your back arched as well."

SNAP!

He pulled on a short but thick black elastic band in his hands and let it go, startling her with the snap. Her face blanched as she looked at it. It had a metal asshook on the end, topped with a thick round shiny ball, and a D ring on the other end.

"Sir, please, I tried, I really did. Please, let me try again! I know I can do it, please!!" She hated having to beg to fuck a dog, but she knew her world was about to become even more painful. It always did.

He didn't answer her but looked at her in silence, his face emotionless. Thirty seconds ticked by, and she couldn't take it anymore. Her breasts hurt so much.

"Um....Sir? Please can we...can we maybe loosen the vices a little? Just a little, please? I can't even think, it hurts so much, please sir...they're so heavy, just.. just a little less tight, please."

"Yes. It's obvious you're not thinking." Ryan said coldly, and with that he twisted the handle of each vice savagely once more, a full half turn.

"NGGGhHh!! AIIiiiii P-PLEASE SIR PLEASEEEEE OHhhhhH!!!" While she squealed and cried, sure her breasts had burst under the dreadful pressure, Ryan moved. He abruptly shoved the fat bulbous ball on the asshook up her butt, wiggling and jamming it until it painfully slid into her forcefully widened ass. Tugging mightily with both hands on the short thick elastic strap, which was normally not longer than 4 inches, he pulled the D ring all the way up to her neck and clipped it on her collar.

The tension in the strap was enormous. Stretched long and thin, it would have hugged her back and followed her shape perfectly had she been able to remain laying flat on the workbench. As it was, she was not able.

Her stretched ass pulled into an oblong O shape as the hook attempted to snap back towards her neck. The enormous tug made her instantly shift uncomfortably to her knees, rising up onto them in a desperate attempt to relieve the strain. Since her legs were doubled up and bound ankle to thigh, she couldn't stretch her legs out, and thus lay with her knees grinding onto the hard surface of the workbench, her ass raised into the air, back arched severely. Her collared neck remained secured to the workbench, keeping her face and upper chest lowered.

All while her exploding pressurized breasts swung agonizingly in the savage grip of the heavy vices, pulling her chest wall down to the surface of the bench.

"Godddddddd!!!! Ohhh OhhH!!! Please it hurtsss! PLEASSE take it out!!!!!" Chelsea couldn't help but blubber and beg like a baby, she felt like her creaking spine was about to snap in half, and that her asshole, still an oblong O, could rip at any moment.

"No, I think it's working fine. Now that you're back in position, let's let poor Asmo finish his fun." He placed the same little stool they were using in the house behind her ass, and set the little excited puppy on it. He sniffed at her with his wet nose then jumped up, front paws on her butt. Once again, the little dog stabbed wildly with his tiny pecker, trying to hump Chelsea. This time though, with her hands cuffed behind her, she couldn't help him find his target.

Ryan could though.

Not particularly wanting to touch the little dogs cock, he grabbed Asmo's hind legs and steered him until the little 2 inch long puppy cock was rubbing into her pussy. He moved him until the tip was grazing her peehole.

"Since your slutty cunt was too loose for him, maybe we should use this smaller hole instead. It's more his size."

Chelsea's eyes widened. "Sir no please please I'm begging you please don't let him-AhhHHHAHH!!!"

He released the little dog's hind legs and Asmo surged forwards, his red cock sinking into her urethra an inch, before being pulled back and slammed in completely. Chelsea wailed and shook like a leaf. Her peehole was small and tight enough to where Asmo had no trouble accidentally slipping out. She felt like the tiny tube was packed to the brim and on the verge of rupturing, which was true. And it burned, oh how it burned!

Her breath starting hitching loudly in time with each thrust as little Asmo started a frantic rhythm. His little hips were a blur, he didn't know much about pacing himself.

"Ohh, ungh! Ohh God, it hurts! It hurts!" Chelsea's sensitive little tube was on fire. Ryan peered closely as it was hammered, the shaking girl quivering and moaning, unable to move.

Asmo was in bliss, his tongue lolling out happily, as he severely punished his caretaker. His small knot slipped in and Chelsea shuddered violently, the misused little tube was barely able to stretch enough to slip over it. Suddenly he started shooting out his puppy cum, the watery stuff backfilling up her peehole to start to fill up her bladder.

"Oh God...." Chelsea felt the white watery stuff flowing up into her, it was weird and it burned. As Asmo spurted, Ryan laughed.

"You are not to pee it out until I allow it, slut. Don't worry, I have an idea to help you, "

Asmo popped free with a tiny wet sound, and his cum started to leak out of the severely reddened, partially open urethra. It spasmed open and shut slightly, white fluid slowly dripping out and onto the bench's top. Chelsea felt like she had to pee a little, and tried to hold it in. She had to obey him or it would be worse for her.

Chelsea was crying and not paying attention. Suddenly she squealed loudly, trying to twist her hips but failing. Ryan's arms encircled her hips to still her, one hand spreading her vulva. With the other he was inserting the tip of a short plastic syringe into her peehole, squirting a tiny amount of pepper juice directly onto the suffering membranes.

"AaaIIIEI!!!!" The little peehole instantly started swelling, the entire length of it inside her flushing a dark red. As it swelled closed, Asmo's cum stopped dripping from it.

"Ohhhh! Ohhh! What did you do?! Ohhhh..."

"That's better. Come on Asmo, let's go get a treat." The little puppy jumped around happily as they left a suffering Chelsea in the garage, giving her delicate tissues time to fully swell and letting Asmo have time to recover. They came back 10 minutes later, and Ryan spread her labia, peering intently at the little swelled-shut hole.

He slapped it with his hand a bit and she squirmed uncomfortably, then he guided Asmo back onto the stool, ready to go again. "Go on Asmo!" His cock stabbed and missed, briefly going into her pussy then more sideways into her thigh. Ryan guided his hips.

"UNGGGH!!" The little stabbing pecker sank once again into her smallest of holes, this time painfully swollen shut. Chelsea felt a lancing pain run from her pussy up her spine to her brain as the inflamed burning tissues were forced apart.

"Noooo, nononono nGhh!!" Getting back into his rabbit rhythm, Asmo worked his bitch frantically. He was bred to someday be a well-hung massive dog, and even now as a young puppy he had impressive stamina. The little dog didn't seem worn out at all anymore.

The tight little improvised fuckhole suffered marvelously as it slipped wetly over the puppy's pistoning cock. Tears and snot ran from Chelsea's face and nose, and her thighs trembled.

"Aigh! Nghh! Please! Pl-ungh! AHg!"

Chelsea grunted as her urethra was pummeled, and Asmo started shooting more cum while he kept pounding her. The tip of his puppy cock would almost reach her bladder as it spurted white, and more watery cum joined his previous load inside her. His little knot tried to squeeze in, but it was too tight and so just repeatedly bashed into the entrance.

When he finally pulled free with a pop, Chelsea was sobbing hysterically. Not a drop leaked out of her swollen peehole, feeling even more tender and tight now after the physical abuse it had taken.

"Come on Asmo, we'll come back in a bit after you've rested up."

The lights of the garage shut off and they left her in darkness.

— --------------------------------------------

Four hours later Chelsea was an absolute wreck. They had come back at least eight other times to let Asmo fuck her peehole. Ryan had given her two other painful pepper juice applications to keep it extra tight and sensitive, not allowing the swelling to diminish. He didn't bother with the plastic syringe, now he just coated his pinky with the juice and wormed it up inside her urethra, twisting it viciously in response to all the noise she was making.

She had to pee so, so badly. Her own pee had mixed with Asmo's cum inside her, and her bladder stretched painfully around its contents, full of 30% her own urine and 70% dog cum. She groaned miserably as he came yet again, backfilling her with yet another watery load. He pulled free and jumped off the stool, then started lapping at her cunt. Chelsea's hips squirmed as much as she was able, in no small part due to the near bursting sensation of her bladder as well as Asmo's tongue.

"I think that's enough. How does it feel slut? Does it feel good to take in Asmo's cock juice? He's your master too after all."

"I...I..."

"Do you have to pee, slut?"

"Y-yes, oh god yes..."

"You will hold it."

*sniff "Yes s-sir...ohhhh...."

It didn't really matter. Even if he had allowed it, her urethra was swollen too much to allow her to pee anyway. Not a drop would have made it out no matter how hard she pushed.

Ryan let Asmo back in the house, then rejoined her, holding one of her white high heels in his hands. "I don't want to neglect your pussy, slut. Let's take a look at it."

With her asshook painfully stretching her ass and arching her back still, Ryan roughly started pushing his fingers into her. He didn't waste much time fingering her, and with one hand soon had four of his fat fingers wedged inside her pussy.

"Oww! Sir, please, please be gentle... everything hurts." Even though it was mainly her peehole that suffered, the aching and throbbing seemed to radiate and spread into her entire pussy.

Ignoring her he pulled back hard with his fingers, partially curling them and tugging her pussy internally towards her ass. He could feel that fat metal ball on the end of the asshook through her delicate, stretching walls. He repositioned his partially curled fingers and sank his nails into the where the ball lay below, and she grunted.

He tugged hard, and pulled her pussy into a roughly triangular shape, spread wide around his four fingers at the base before narrowing down around her clit and burning red peehole. Her sensitive pink gaped at him.

"Ngh!"

Fully opened to his view, with is other hand he briefly poked at her urethra with his finger and she grunted. He picked up the high heel shoe he had brought with him from the house, one of her favorites. He started pushing the toe roughly into her pried open pussy. The leather creaked and Chelsea groaned as he twisted and pushed on it, slowly forcing it deeper into the abused cunt.

With the toes of the shoe inserted, he pulled his four fingers free, the elastic meat of her cunt wrapping around the shoe. He grabbed the heel and wiggled it side to side. It felt immensely uncomfortable. Wiggling it, he pushed it hard and it slowly sank all the way down "Ungh! ahH!! Gawd...." Down and down it slowly disappeared into her. Fully seated, the stiletto of the high heel split her labia and ran over her clit. The inside of her pussy felt achingly distended and misshapen as it hugged the shape of her shoe tightly.

"That should help distract you. We'll let Asmo's cum soak inside you for a few more hours, maybe then the swelling will go down and you can pee."

"Ohh....God, sir, please...can you take out the hook at least? My back hurts so much..." She was still severely arched by the tight elastic strap.

"No, but I can do something for you." He kneels down and tightens the breast vices another quarter turn. It wasn't easy, they were already super tight and he had to put some effort into it.

Chelsea wailed and her fingers and toes curled as the very centers of each breast were deeply bruised and crushed flat. Each forty pound vice gently swayed and clanked into the other from her squirming. She was sure her aching mammaries were paper thin in the vices' jaws, and her nipples stood out from the immense pressure.

Ryan shut off the lights and went back inside. He'd release her in a few hours, and she could start on dinner. He looked forward to making her walk around with her high heel inside her pussy while she worked.