Domesticating the Fucktoy Pt. 2

Domesticating the Fucktoy Pt. 2
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 last week. 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 the 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 ascent 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 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.

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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 of 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.

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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 worse 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 titmeat 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. What 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 comfortably 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. “They 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 towards 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 hogs 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 hog 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 wretched, 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.