the capture chord Verse x carrie-me

[Verse]

It was a considerably spacious room. Because it had to contain all of her life, from now on.

The tiles were asymmetric. Square when they could and still fit into each other, most of them larger than her palm. This kind of uneven thing might driver her insane, when the rest of the room didn't. The calk seams were dark, and if she ever got the chance to look closer, the ones low enough for the average height woman to touch, were worn down and clawed at. An array of pipelights overhead, too far to reach, spread uneven, also. There were very few neat lines for her to find comfort in. And between those pipes of light, black orbs dotted the ceiling. Cameras, concealed in black glass.

Four major drains on the floor, and plenty of hatches in the walls. Everything was made to take water and stay intact. Not that she could explore much of it when she woke up, not from the chair she'd been sat in. The sadistic piece of furniture was simply a metal chair without a seat. Instead of a seat there was a fifth pole, sprouting from a metal plate, standing on the floor. That middle pole had a metal ball at the top, and it was this metal ball that was pushing up between her clothed asscheeks. She was still in the clothes she'd been wearing before. The metal ball, her forearms tied to the arms of the chair, and her feet tied to the front legs of the chair, were supporting her, which meant the ball was pushing up against her ass, taking the part of her weight that a cushion would have. If she tried to relax her arms, which she might since the angle was rather painful, she would have to hold herself up by letting the ball push her pants and panties into her ass. It was indignant, but her only choice to alleviate the strain on her arms.

The smells in here were humid at first, even if there were vents toward one corner of the room. They were quiet, of course. A sweet and salty scent, definitely from a person, but diluted, like the room had been washed in not so much chemicals. Like there were still the oils of a person smeared on the tiles. In front of her was a door. Gray metal, though the chipping of the paint revealed silver steel and rust underneath. Plenty of hatches in it, too.

She'd be there for an hour, with her own thoughts and panic. And then, the door made a sound. It was heavy but at least the thick hinges were well-greased.

The creature that came in was as tall as the opening. Male body, long. Muscular shoulders but the rest of him was rather narrow. Black hair tied back, away from a dirty, scuffed up, once white full face mask. It was covered in holes and it seemed all of them were looking at her when he came closer. Bare feet at the end of black pants. Gray t-shirt with-- was that brown stains slashed across the chest? He stood by her, over her, silently looking.

And then he reached. Long fingers, like a spider made out of skin, closer to her face. Clean nails, pronounced knuckles. Caucasian?

 

[boire]

It had taken Caroline several attempts to fully regain consciousness. When she did, she initially thought she had been in some form of an accident as she was unable to move her arms or legs and had a severe ache in her buttocks area and lower back. She had soon realized however that she had been secured on some form of a chair and that she was being forced to support her weight mainly on a small hard object she was sitting on. She had remained confused for a bit as she managed to look and see where she was. Hospital room? At home? Her parents' house. It didn't take long for fear to start growing inside her stomach. All she had been able to discern was she was in some type of room, that had walls covered in dull white tiles, or so it seemed.

She had noticed that the right knee of her stretch jeans had a tear in it and from what she could see of her knee, it had been scratched hard as there was some evidence of blood. Also, her blouse was partially untucked, and a sleeve appeared to give way, torn some on the right shoulder.

She had vaguely remembered that she had gone to a restaurant to meet a friend of hers from out of town. She remembered eating some, a couple of drinks and then nothing.

Trying not to just outright panic, she had tried to see what she could of the room. Still trying to figure out where she was. And maybe why she was there. She had seen lights way up on a ceiling. Everything about the room was odd, unnerving, almost as if it had been designed for that purpose.

Soon she was again trying to adjust in the chair as the object she was placed down on was causing her to really ache badly. Her buttocks were growing extremely sore, and her upper legs were almost numb.

That was when had she noticed the smell. Not unlike some form of disinfectant. Strong on her nose, it had made her look around more to see if she could find the source and maybe get a better understanding of where she was. That was when she first noticed the metal grates that appeared to be some form of drains. Then she saw the door and had really started to panic. It was painted grey with several hatches in it. Spots of exposed rust all over it. Not normal. Not normal at all.

Every time she had tried to pull free or struggle, the object pressing into her became so painful she was forced to stop and just try and remain still. Breathing hard. Her heart rate had started to climb. She had started to perspire.

Then she had heard the door opening and turned her head. That was when she saw something from every girl's nightmare and simply panicked and started sobbing and trying again to pull free. The pain sharper than ever pressing into her.

Then she had seen a hand. A horrible looking hand.

Through ragged sobs and panicked breathing she had blubbered the standard Who, Where, Why, Please don't', over and over and over.

Her ears had started ringing and her own terrified cries were all she heard.

 

[Verse]

He had watched her. No. He had ingested her. Over and over. Many of her, many of this her. He found her everywhere. Just when he had taught her the right lesson, and he'd enjoyed teaching it, she would come back, just as clueless. How much of a saint was he, that he tirelessly regenerated as her teacher, time and time again?

He made money off her mistakes. Sold her to people who thought her mistakes were novel, or rather, sold her holes. Put her in factories. A whole state of commerce of her. He was a titan standing on pieces of her.

This one, this Her, had been going into a restaurant. No connection to him. Those were the best. A couple of drinks means one thing. Nobody else had been in the bathroom when she went. She struggled but here she was, nonetheless. Did she remember the bathroom floor, how her head had bounced against it before she went limp?

So he watched her again, worming to life like so many times before, in the altar he a built for her education. In her mind's infantile state, she was innocent. But the longer she was awake, the more of her old mistakes returned. In the end she was a cauldron of flaws, boiling, imperfect and tainted, worried for her own life.

And she all but soiled herself when he came in. The room had her scent. An explosion of dread that impregnated the atmosphere with sour notes. Sweat on her skin cooking with her racing heartbeat. She had seen him like this before, but he suppose her eyes were new. This body was new too.

She vomited out questions for him. Heavens did he like when she was wild like this.

His hand closed over her face as her words wet his palm. He gripped her. She should be learning something from the sheer fact that his grip was vast enough to be a mask for her, too. He was pushing her nose into her face and stuffing her mouth with the low of his palm. A crushing pressure. He shook her. It was only three jerks but it made her hair storm. Should shut her up. Could compromise her neck, too. Sometimes his strength slipped through when he wasn't careful.

His other hand slapped onto her exposed knee to support him. He leaned closer, which meant he put some more weight on her, which meant more pressure on the pole up her ass. She could smell him too, now. He hadn't washed his hand since last time he'd pissed. But there'd be an iron trace in that smell, too.

Now that she'd been rattled, he parted his fingers so that one of her blue eyes could peer back at him. "Listen. I am doing you a favor here. I am going to bring something out of you. The real you. The part of you that you keep hiding and suffocating. I am going to free you." he said and finally slipped his touch from her face so he could see her fully again.

"It'll be, kind of like a birth." he said with some nostalgia. His voice was deep in the drops and shrill in the pitch of the syllables. She would suspect, rightfully, that his rhythm might break into something violent at any time. An unreliable song. The hand that still had her saliva slid down the front of her wrinkled blouse, his eyes on hers through is own mask. The hand didn't stop until it dove under her shirt, the untucked part, and undid her jeans and intruded on her pantyline and slid in between the fabric and her pussy, cupping her sex firmly with the curl of three fingers, one on each labia, pressing, and the belly of the middle one in her slit, pushing up without entering. "You women know about birthing things, don´t you?" he asked. "It's where you base your worth. But looking at the world, birthing isn't all that great, is it? So what's the lesson here, Caroline?" Somehow her name had an echo, more drawn out and cavernous than the rest of his words. Like a sentence from an abyss. Like her fate, cemented.

You could tell a lot about a woman's state from her cunt. Arousal, sure, but its reflexive clenching and the angle of her hips, too, the flex of her thighs and skin. All of what she had to say could be read by her fuckable parts. It was only she who had to learn that too.

 

[boire]

As it had come closer, her screams had lessened and simply become weak whimpers pulled forth by sheer terror. The question phrases and words had all but ceased and had been replaced by simple pathetic weak animal noises that easily escaped from her.

The shadow on her face had grown larger and darker as the claw-like hand had descended and then simply taken hold of her as one would an apple before taking a bite. The fingers and thumb, long, supple yet strong had taken her head firmly palm against her face hard. Then the pressure of a push had forced her back into the chair and harder onto the object that had almost seemed intent on entering her at some point.

Then she groaned as her head was shaken once, twice, three times, violently. It had been like a dog shaking a stick. Hard, extreme, rough, and worst of all so easily done. Her neck had felt tension and she felt an almost crack in a bone. She had seen stars and flashes of light in that moment. Then came the pressure again. The hand had continued grabbing firmly, pushing, pushing until it seemed her face was being pressed back into her head. Her neck was pushed back so far. Trying hard to breathe she had tasted and smelled her fear, and a strong stench from its flesh that had pressed on her face so tightly.

Repugnant.

Then had come the hard heavy slap on her injured knee. That pain had gone almost unnoticed because the main terror was so close to her and absorbing her every thought, smell, sight and sound. Her heart was Loud in her ears. It had pounded. Pounded. Her chest had risen hard as she had struggled to breathe. Trying to pull air through the hand covering her face.

As the hand had pressed on the leg, the object under her had remained unmovable as her body was naturally forced down on to it. Hard, hard, ungiving. Her elbows had tried to take a lot of the load against the arms of the chair. Trying to push back with her body. She had found herself in agony with no escape.

Then words had been spoken to her, just meaningless dribble reaching out to her ears. "birth" "do a favor" "bring out". Words that had made no sense were flowing in altering pitches of a maniacal sounding voice. Low to high back to low, but, always extreme.

By this time, she had been gripped totally by terror and her uttered sounds were now just labored breathing and groans of pain. She had already at this point realized that it was deranged, sick dangerous and she had only started to hope and pray that it killed her fast.

"birth" "birth" "birth"

The horrid looking mask had gotten so close finally it was almost touching the back of the hand holding her face in its tight grip. A single eye had found her eye when the fingers had spread open on her face. A deep bottomless looking eye staring right at her. Into her soul. She had whimpered in such a way it was pitiful to hear.

Then the wet hand had started to simply slide from her face, fingers down her cheeks, her chin, her throat, leaving red marks, feeling her tears her quivering flesh. It had continued down the blouse, easily popping buttons on the way, to her waist. The eye always staring into hers.

She had felt a coldness up under the blouse, the hard jerk, a tug on her pants waist and then wet, clammy fingers sliding up and over, around her inner thighs, resting on her tenderness finally. Her young womanhood.

Cupping there, it had almost suddenly seemed a little at peace.

Carolines brain had continued to swirl, and she had reached the point of just shaking, crying hard, snotty nose, wet eyes. Almost then, she had started giving up.

"You women know about birthing things, don´t you?" ............. breathing................................. "Caroline"

Her sick, terrified screams had once again filled the air in the room of horror she had found herself captive in.

 

[Verse]

She devolved into beastly sounds. But not the kind he made over other versions of her when he tried their pink walls with his cock. Not guttural grunting or beastly barks. Her's were shrill pushes, like it was the last things she could give before fainting. He wouldn't let her off that easy. He'd gone through all this trouble, after all. And he knew there was something better in her, then all this bullshit she thought she was.

She had to let it happen. He neck was supple, and offered little resistance for when her moved her head in the one-hand hold. She was just her physical parts, and they weren't so impressive. At least not in a powerful way. Her body had other uses than fighting. His palm grew wet when she tried to get more air in. She was fresh with confusion and fear. Like always. He found himself a bit hypnotized with her chest when she tried to oxygenate her blood, rapidly. He huffed, amused, when her arms tried to lift her off the metal ball on the pole, pushing between her asscheeks. Hadn't she tried that enough already?

Their eyecontact was good. She understood a little more about her situation, but there was a lot left. He really did think she was beautiful. She always was. She let him touch on the way down too, and then he was holding her pussy, nursing it really. He laughed with pity when she screamed, and massaged between her labia, up at her pussy-flesh and gracing that secret nub.

"Did I..." he started, and it was almost a whisper. And then he punched his head forward, which landed the cheek of his mask against her not-so-protected face. She looked so good when she cried to ugly. This was more honest. This he liked. "TELL YOU TO CRY?" the shout was competent, from an expanded throat and strong lungs. Disruptive in the ceramic-lined room, like the tile would break from the onslaught of sound - a weapon of its own. He curled his fingers witch made his nails dig rows in her labia and the middle finger crush her clit. Naked mounds. Fucking sheep.

His head came back a bit to look her over. "So you think this is how you survive? Crying?" His other hand smeared her tears and snot over her face, coating it with her own salty melt. The circles he roughly massaged into her features became harder and harder, and soon it was slapping and backhanding her, all while ripping up the flesh around her pussy. "Keep going, if you think that's smart." he knew noises were the only outlets she thought she had left, and that it would mess her up to stop, but that's what he wanted. She needed to know she couldn't do anything, if he didn't let her. Right now her head would be flung from side to side by his rapping violence, careless disregard to the muscles in her neck, until she could be quiet and swallow her crying for at least a few seconds. Then he'd stop, and stand up straight again, leaving her face and cunt be.

 

[boire]

As IT's hand had continued to cup her region, and Its body had leaned in closer and closer, her screams had finally started to fade, lesson, weaken. It was as if IT had played a game:

"Let the prey have her way, Cause IT will have her remaining days." (Was the old rhyme)

Caroline slowly became quieter and quieter, so just her breathing and soft whimpers were all that had been heard in those very important moments. Chest up and down. She had peered through the fingers.

The zip ties had been slowly grating away at her skin and were now actually cutting in some to her wrists and ankles. There had not been blood, but there had been obtrusive marking. Her hands and feet had all swollen slightly from the pressure of the ties.

Her tail bone had become intensely painful from the projection she was forced down onto. Her elbows were sore from pressing into the arms of the chair.

ITs eye had continued to stare directly at hers through the spread fingers of the face hugger. Stare, not blink, invade.

"Peek a Boo"

She had caught her breath again for a moment and tried again to scream, to utter any sound she could. It had been ragged, pathetic and weak. Just a soft moan had slid out of her.

The hand that had cupped her region tightened.

"Did I..."…………………………………………………………… . "TELL YOU TO CRY?" HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM ?

IT had squeezed her tighter, almost causing tears in the soft flesh. Then the middle finger of the three had sought and found and pressed hard into her clitoris as if IT had intended to push it back under it's protective hood. Rubbing, pressing, pressing the nub had tried to escape but was unable to. Pressing.

Fucking sheep.

IT's mask now had moved so close it had touched the back of IT's own hand. Warm putrid breath had surrounded her face. She had heard ITs breathing. The eye had come closer.

Then the mask pulled back in a quick like way. Still studying her.

IT's hand had loosened on her face and then roughly pressed and moved about it rubbing in the tears, the snot, the fear the stench. Hard and deep IT had rubbed. It had pushed her head back, stretched her neck taunt, pressed her whole body down.

And then the hand to her face: SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP

Her head had been forced all ways from the blows, SLAP Her face turning red, stinging flesh. SLAP Barely uttering a sound. SLAP The hits had been so fast and so hard she had been unable to react to them Just ride them.

Its hand holding her below had gripped tight and tighter. Forcing her down on the device killing her tail bone, forcing her thigh flesh apart, hard, hard, hard, IT had grabbed and squeezed. Her head had snapped one way then the other then back with each hit. SLAP SLAP

" STOP!!!!!!" She had screamed. Then she had softly sobbed, "pleaseeeeee stop. Just pleaseeeeeee please just stop."

She had sat there almost broken (so it had felt) unable to do more than natural whimpers and panting. Her heartbeat had become the loudest sound in the sick room.

Her vision had started to blur, and the room had started to spin. Her brain had finally decided it was time to shut down.

 

[Verse]

It was a delight to see her settle into her real form. Her screaming had mostly subsided but he was still annoyed enough about it that he went on to slap her anyway. There was very little incentive to do anything else. Her flesh was about to break from the ties and her pussy was warm for him, as he played with it. Women usually listen better when it involves their defining parts. That was part of the lesson she needed to learn, in here, after all.

It was good to feel the muscles in her neck and shoulderblades give in when his palm and backhand started moving her skull about. The girl she'd been out in the world, when she still thought she owned her own life and had things to do by her own decisions, would have been offended by the idea of submitting to this. But in reality, which was rampant in here - more reality than she'd ever tasted - her body would submit to hardships. And this wasn't even the beginning of her lessons, yet. At first she appeared to have learned it, letting her face fall this way and that, along with his manhandling, the hard claps.

But she disappointed him by calling out. Telling him to stop. He huffed once with insult, and then increased the breadth of his wingspan as he slapped her, which in turn increased the power at which she was beaten. Speeding up each swing made sure the frequency didn't slack. He thought it was effective at first, that she might be turning into a good girl already, but as it turned out, she had simply lost consciousness. In her current level of intelligence, she was only a good woman when she wasn't awake. He could tell she'd checked out by the limpness with which her head fell from side to side for his violence.

He did stop, though, to look at her bowed head. He stroked hair away from her face. With her relaxed like that, her weight would rest on her asshole, on the ball pressed up against it, all but breaking her pants and tailbone. Too bad she wouldn't remember. He stood up and put his hands on his hips, looking her over while she slept in her trauma-induced stillness. "You're incorrigible, aren't you?"

She didn't answer.

He thought it was a waste to ruin her as she was. Adorable when she slept. But he had to continue with her education. He reached behind himself, and produced a thin knife. He was sure she would have pissed herself at seeing it. Maybe later. He went to work.

When Caroline woke up again, things would be mostly the same. There was still a monster in there with her, and she was still zip-tied to the chair. With her ankles and shins secure to the chair's front legs, she would only be able to bend her own legs in a certain angle. That angle was of course cut off by the pole with the metal ball at its top, pressing against her ass.

This time, though, there were only shreds left of her pants. Her shaved pussy with angry scratches from his nails was exposed. She'd gotten to keep the clothes she wore on her upper body, which made her look even more indignant than if she'd been fully naked. The metal ball was pressing fatefully against her anus. He was squatted down to remain at her level, and the knife was tucked into the back of his belt again.

"I am sure you're getting tired, holding yourself up." he said. "And I'm sure you think you don't like things up your shithole, but we're here to break down barriers." He explained to her, voice still deep, but with a lighter, mocking tone now. "You're wasting strength in your thighs trying to protect you anal virginity." A lot of judgement in the statement.

And then he punched the inside of her spread thigh. First the left and then the right. It would of course be painful and of course take away some of the strength she held herself up with. "You can either try to keep yourself up, or you can be a smart bitch and take it like a big girl." he offered. And other punch to the other thigh. "If you bet on your own strength you're going to fail every time. And since you like begging, I will let you beg me for lube, but please don't ask for anything else." This was followed swiftly with a punch to her stomach. That one would be disruptive. "It's really disheartening, since it shows what a slow learner you are."

 

[boire]

With the onslaught of attacks to her face and head by ITs massive hand, Caroline's consciousness had finally slipped away allowing her body to simply shut down. She was left slumped in the cold frame of the metal chair. The head finally had slumped once the blows stopped and hung loosely forward, neck tight yet loose.

Irregular soft breathing, with a gurgle from her throat had caused thin reddish foam to seek a path from inside her mouth. Her inner mouth had been torn from teeth being pressed into gums and lips over and over causing small cuts inside her soft cheeks and mouth. The outside of the cheeks that had once been soft, perfectly blended youthful skin had suddenly been transformed into swollen flesh with shots of red and bluish tinted welts on both sides. Patches of blood glistened through a multitude of small scratches.

Sofy moaning with ragged breathing. She was alive.

"You're incorrigible, aren't you?"

It had been a blessing that she remained in that state as IT used a wicked blade to cut away her ripped and pissed in stretch pants, and then her light blue panties that had also been damp with escaped piss. IT had cut and then ripped and pulled to get them away from her body. Leaving the blood speckled blouse on would be a kind gesture so she had some warm clothing to wear.

Her slit had now become exposed. It had looked perfect. Beautiful as a flower that had not yet been invaded and destroyed. Her wet thighs had been revealed and could taste air. Free from material trappings.

She had grunted from an unconscious state when IT hit the insides of her thighs.

She had grunted from an unconscious state when IT had punched her hard in the gut. It had been at that moment, she involuntarily sucked in a large amount of nothing in response to the hit. She had moaned though. Moaned weakly. Muscles had contracted.

Her head had lifted, and she had spit up some blood and bile as a result. She had felt that blow deep and hard.

Her sphincter muscle had relaxed involuntarily from it and the ball under her had slid up (or had she slumped?) It had not mattered as her ass hole had been pressed and stretched and the ball was allowed to partially settle as she had continued to press against it.

It had been hard, strong, smooth, but not perfect enough to just slip in. It had just produced an uncomfortable stretching of the muscle and tearing of skin. Her slit had even opened slightly, the lips had parted because of the back pressure. The clit red from Its earlier onslaught. She groaned partially impaled on the steel.

She had groaned several times, her head had lifted, and she had found herself again. Shivering hard, but not screaming (there was no strength for that anymore). There had been whimpering but it played soft like a song to IT.

Yes, she had found herself again. Unfortunately, the room was there, the odd tiles, the lights, the smells the little sounds.

She had coughed a few times. A little bit of blood but not enough to worry IT.

Chest up and down under the worn blouse as she breathed. Her stomach had taken a blow and the muscles ached. Her thighs ached but she had been unaware of the blows IT had landed there.

She had now been introduced and teased, and the real nightmare had presented itself to her. Hold on little girl. Hold on.

That is just life. And that is how hers had turned out. She had found her one purpose to have ever been born.

Zip Ties cutting her. Partially impaled. The womanhood of a young lady held open, fully exposed. No screaming, no crying. IT had done a good job. IT was happy.

 

[Verse]

He liked her all cut up. And leaking blood form her lips. A reminder of her human parts. But she rejected them, didn't she? She insisted, in all her iterations, that she wasn't an animal. It made her a liar all her life and then she fought back when he was showing her the truth. Of course it hurt! She'd been nestling herself in this lie for so long. He wanted to eat that neck, when it clung to her rolling, lax head. But that'd cut this too short.

He continued his work while she slept, and inhaled the ocean stench when he freed her of her vain pants, and the pretty panties. Her cunt was still wet from it, and still had the scratched he'd given it. That little gash would have fretted, in its bald state, if it knew what he'd do to it, too. She came alive for his violence. Violence was all she knew, the only language available to her. He'd speak to her a lot.

He couldn't help but laugh, short and loud, when more gunk came out of her from the punch. She could be funny sometimes. The commotion finally had her sinking onto the rod. It excited him. That anus was also virginal. How many baptisms had she had? His mouth was open, his mask eschewed from it, when her cunt also interacted with the metal orb being pushed into its neighboring hole. Her anatomy was always so different.

He squatted down to look closer. Head between her legs and lower, tilted, to see the metal impose itself on her tender opening. "Oh, you're going to like this next part, you always do." he said, looking up at her when she came to, with a symphony of whimpers. Stood up tall again and held her face with his large hands. And then only one hand. On top of her head, pushing her down. It would of course increase the pressure on her stretching, breaking sphincter. Increasing her pain.

"You like that?" he asked as he pushed a little more. She could compensate with her own arms, but even if they'd been free she couldn't hope to stop him. And now they were tied and weak. "It's going in, nomatter what, but you could probably enjoy it a little more if you had some lube, right?" he offered. He took his face close to hers again, dark eyes shining through the mask. "But you don't have to." he assured her as he pressed her further down.

 

[boire]

She had come to feeling pressure on her head, feeling IT's hand on her head. Pressing her down. Down. Her sphincter muscle starting to tear. Feeling the agony of something being forced dry into her.

She came up fighting it. Arms straining, but she was too weak, she had gone weak. Over weak and done.

"Oh, you're going to like this next part, you always do." "You like that?" Still pressing her head, her back her hips her ass. Her arms had started shaking, sweating again.

She was growling, not screaming or crying, but growling. She knew she was going to lose but wanted to fight back some.

Stretching, burning, maybe soon tearing.

IT had literally bent over In front of her as if studying his work. ITs face had moved in close to her body that was straining. Like looking over and into a box on the floor.

Then the mask had lifted, and lT had come in close to her face from the side. The long arm bent and the hand still pushing down.

She had been able to hear IT breathing it was so close.

Then tauntingly, so tauntingly "...if you had some lube, right?" "lube" Lube" (Help it get past the tight part and just pop in. You may find you like it)

That was the second time she ever screamed at IT. "FUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK LUBE LUBE LUBE PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

Her face red as she screamed out at the mask.

She was feeling it more as it pressed in to her. It was going in painfully or less painfully. Groaning, giving in.
"
"LUBE LUBE LUBE" She was panting hard. Stammering over the word lube. "LUB LUBEEBB LUBBE EE LUBE PLEASEEEEEEE" oh god it hurts, it hurts"

 

[Verse]

There was pressure upward in response to his force down. It was nice feedback, a spit of spirit answering him. But she didn't have enough. She would never have enough to fight him, but she would try. While she was anything but indominable, her spirit was at least real. He chuckled, and it'd be a bad sound, coming from a grown man. Oh, she tried to hard but she had so little to give. Many people thought they'd unleash another vat of power when they needed to, but usually it was just this, the last whimper of their failing strength.

His jaw dropped in awe at her stupidity when he made the animal sound inside her chest. But all that bravery gave way when he offered her a way to do all this softer. To make it better for her. There was no pride left in the girl. How could there be? He cackled so hard he spat at her as he fell back. His laughter was clear and he held his stomach as she begged repeatedly. His boots banged their heels into the floor.

And then, when the echoes of his amusement had saturated and left the tile surroundings, he stood up. Some dark hair coming loose from the tie that held it away from the mask. He shrugged and towered over her again. She got to wonder just where the promised lubricant would come from. And then he reached infront of himself. There was a natural bulge to his black pants, if she'd care to notice.

A snap of a button undone and then he reached inside as the denim parted. It was labor, getting it out. A dark limb, vulgar in his hulking shape, already bulbus in the middle and increasingly large in design toward the fat, round tip. The slit was huge and the head was some sick, bruise color. He was simply of other designs than other males. Of course the fingers of two hands had to handle it.

He sighed with some relief. And then it'd start. Pushing out of that slit, on that dangling cock, came a stream of lightly yellow liquid, pushing hard first and splashing against her stomach, sliding down to and over her shaven cunt. He let his head roll back and expose his throat, looking at the ceiling as the boiling broth out of his bladder and its private stench filled the air between them. Eventually, the rich stream would run down the rod that was petitioning for her ass, and, by some measures, it would lube up the ball too.

 

[boire]

The girl had looked up, face tense, softly crying from the pain she was being put through. IT had released the pressure on her head and had fallen back uttering a pure evil sounding laugh and other guttural sounding speech.

Then IT had stood up, and simply pulled what could only be described as a badly misshapen penis from Its trousers and had begun to urinate on the girl in the chair. Yellow extremely putrid smelling piss from its tender looking slit. Running down her front side it had seeped to her anus area.

Fight as hard as she could, there was no escape, there was no hiding, no getting away. She had had to remain there and suffer the humiliation.

Upon completing the discharge of urine, IT had simply stepped up again and placed both hands on her head then had pulled her face into his front side burying her face and then had leaned in. IT had turned its face up wards as if in deep thought and IT pushed down slowly and with effort hugging her head tightly. Then there had been a muffled moaning cry from the girl and then senseless sounds from her lungs filled the tile covered room as she was just simply pushed on to the ball. Sphincter muscle stretching with a little tear. Muscles tight but losing. Surrender had forced its way in and then it started and then it was in her and her muscles closed around the ball that was sitting slightly up in her was then in her totally. She was now holding it tight in herself. Her sphincter muscle tight around it, holding it in her. keeping it in her, inside her warmth. Screaming into his mass as IT held her face close and continued to push.

There was no means of relief for her. She had had to just had to take it. Accept it was filling her, hurting her, but it was in. No more tearing of the skin. It was in her and she was rooted to the spot. Her pussy had now been stretched open and forced out into view. The pink, red inside. the lips forced apart in a grotesque manner. The clit under the hood but tight and pointing upwards because of the skin stretch. Her hands had opened and closed into fists then stretched out over and over through the ordeal of being pushed down. Small cuts in the palm from her nails.

She knew she had to accept it. There was no other recourse. She had learned that she just had to accept what IT was going to do.

Then once it was seated, IT released his hold and stepped back to admire what he had done.

Head bowed, wrists and ankles bleeding, some blood dropped from her anus. Tears smeared on her face. Dried snot covered her face. Her body covered with dried, fresh, dried sweat. Over and over. And there she sat.

The transition had been made. Caroline was no longer a person, no longer a girl. She had become Its thing.

 

[Verse]

As she wept, she couldn't do much about what he did. And to him, while she sobbed, it almost looked like she was allowing it. Never mind the ties and her capture. He laughed to himself about it, as she was washed in the fluids he'd drank and now processed. Dismissively, he flicked the gargantuan, obese member upward, lashing her face from the chin to her brow, with the salty ray, mixing the piss with her tears.

She came alive from her slight rest when he pushed her. The piss soaked girl sunk as she should, and she made the bitter sounds too. He laughed with delight, dark and low, when the ball had lodged into her. He shook his head as though she was a beautiful idiot, for clenching down so hard. "You like it that much?" he asked and hissed.

Stepping back, meancing cock still dangling, he looked at the doll upon the pole. Her pussy was a mess. It was more of an anatomy lesson. He tsk'ed and looked at the glistening pink, angry color because of the circumstances, with the ball all but turning her inside out. "Giving birth?" he asked and then bellowed more laughter. The last of her struggles subsided, and then she was this bent, disgusting female thing, held up like a prop by something in her anus. She was starting to learn.

He reached back and pulled the knife out again. "Now you're learning." he rewarded, and though her obedient, calm form was rather pretty. Or right. "Now, if you're good," he said to the girl with her pussy bulging out of its lips, pregnant in her shithole with the metal orb she stupidly held on to. "you will stay as you are." He said and then started cutting the ties that held her arms to the arms of the chair. Like little strings they opened, and if she was not a total bitch, they would all be loosened.

Of course the plastic straps held onto the wounds they'd created in her forearms, and he had to dig his knife in methodically to remove them all. Painful, but if she was still, eventually she'd be free. He did the same to her legs.

Until the only thing left holding her in place was her own posture, and the ball in her shithole. If she wanted, she could rise up, even help herself to do it with the chair's arms, but that'd be going against him.

Quietly, without ordering her anything, he moved forward. This would produce his cock and its last drop of piss in her face. He was tall enough that he stood above the arms of the chair. A good girl would know what to do, but a dumb girl who still thought she was human, might refuse and use what looked like freedom to escape. He looked down at her, waiting.

 

[boire]

Her face had been coated with the warm salty tasting fluid. Seeping into her tightly closed eyes, closed mouth. It had soaked her face, hair, shoulder, body and it had made its way into her face in trickles, and droplets that seemed like oceans to her. She coughed and more had come in. Her nose burned, eyes burned, and her throat burned. She had swallowed. Had tasted. Smelled. Seen.

Then it had come forward and touched her. Large, damp, spongy. it had then been drug across the same face it had just gotten wet. Back and forth slow like a brush painting more obscenities on her face with each stroke. Smearing piss, tears.

She was impaled on the ball, her mind slowing, her breathing slowing, her heart slowing. The pain of the ball was lessening. It was in her and her body clung to it. Her sphincter muscle was around it, adjusting to it, and keeping it tight.

Then she saw a brief flash as the blade, a long thin blade, came forward again. She had briefly wondered if that was how it was to end. He was going to bring an end. A cut, a stab, and slice to her throat? She chuckled at her own naivety.

Again, her body did not react in panic. The ball had settled in her. Her ass was holding to it. She did not try to pull away or to scream or plead even. Her ass would have never let the ball out now.

Then the blade had dug into her flesh as it cut straps and at the same time bringing relief to her wrists and ankles as blood was again allowed to flow. Not all of it stayed inside her. Bleed she did, but she was not in any danger from that. She had moaned from the pain and then the pleasure.

Her piss-soaked body slumped for a moment. The ball seemed to push a bit further, but it didn't bother her. It was part of her now. Keeping her from slumping to the floor like a doll.

Then IT stepped up close in front. IT's whole body moving closer. Dark shadow falling over her. When she looked up, she saw the cock hanging and she knew what was expected, and she knew what she would do.

She had changed. The little caroline had died a bit back, and a new person had survived and didn't care now. This was easy compared to the agony she had already been through.

Simply leaning forward mouth opening, with her tongue slipping out to cushion, she had taken the large purplish head and simply pulled it into her mouth with suction (fighting back the desire to puke) and suckled it.

Large, slick (dribble of piss still prevalent). Spongy, tough. She had suckled it like a babe does a mothers teat for milk. This was something she had done often enough to help from sleeping with dates she had not cared for. This had kept her boyfriend happy with her for so long. She suckled as she knew how, feeling it start to swell.

Then her bloodied hand had come up and taken it about midway to help support the head she was working on. And work on it she did. She had fought back the taste, the ill thought of it. She had closed her eyes and she worked it like she never had. Suckleing, licking the underneath of the head. Tongue tip to the slit. All the time it swelled. She could now hear the breath of air from IT standing above her. She had started to actually hope she could please him, to show IT had taken the right Caroline.

Suckleing, working. This Caroline was going to please IT like never before. She was going to win him over. Suckle on that head, make Its blood flow. Bring IT pleasure like never before.

Then Its hand was on top of her head almost in a loving caring way. As if IT had given approval the girl was doing good. IT was gentle, soothing, helping her to transition completely.

She could feel the touch and it made her more conscious to please. To work the cocks head in order to do what was proper for her.

IT was changing her. IT needed her. And she was finding inside, she needed IT now.

 

[Verse]

She took it rather well. And her skin soaked it up well too. He liked seeing the pump of her throat when she accepted it. It had just been a whip-strike of piss, but it looked good on her, like it belonged. While there was tension in her from it, she had taken it onto her eyeballs and sniffed it up, however unintentional. His waste had mixed up with her blood now.

He read her expression with the flesh of his cock. Read her features like he was blind, feeling them out with his filthiest limb. But she didn't act as though she was kidnapped and being forced to love a stranger's dick. He could feel the lighter sighs in her breath as they hit the head of his cock, he could sense the lack of tension in her cheeks. She was getting used to her role. A small spiral of pride whirred in him.

And he'd noticed too, how lax she was about the knife. He appreciated that. She was mutating in a good pace, and she showed it, when he freed her of the restraints. Well without the bindings she actually got more comfortable. He nodded with approval, when she settled on the ball, letting it go further in as though to help it steady her. How adorable she looked, looking up at him from this close. Like it was Christmas for her.

He nodded more when she started taking it. If she could know just from the situation, and accept it, she was ahead of the curve. A bit of a last tensing of his urethra at her mouth's enveloping, sent a final jet of piss into her. Addled, she had at it, her cheeks pulsating in an animalistic way. Like she was getting nourishment from it. His body rewarded her with more blood to it. Soon the cock-feeding idiot was suckling on a rock hard rod.

The girl was doing all she could to please the member. She was applying not just her will to survive, but her creativity and worship. For him, not for herself or some selfish inclination to live another day. The hand on her head lent a little more pressure on her, so he could lift his leg while she continued with her service. The girl who'd been so afraid of him, who'd tried to escape vehemently, was now perfectly perched with a pole up her ass, sucking his cock.

She had been broken with that ball in her ass. Meant that her backdoor was likely her weakness.

"Good. You're learning faster than you usually do." he rewarded. His leg had lifted a bit, and its boot pushed forward for the toe to touch her bulging pussy. He grinded the boot against the already bulbous female sex, but kept his hand on her head so she'd know not to stop worshipping.

And then, when he put his foot back down, the hand on her head forced her down more, having her body slide deep and then up, when he pulled her hair, fucking her ass by controlling her head. She always eventually loved it in the ass.

 

[boire]

Then in the process of starting to focus on ITs cock in her mouth, a closing soft stream of piss spurted from its slit, causing her cheeks to puff out for a second as she had taken the brackish fluid and then had swallowed and continued to work his member. The ball starting to settle into her driving her more because of what it had made her become.

Then IT had lifted a leg, and she had felt the toe of a boot as it had been pressed into her exposed stretched pussy. Grinding with it. Sending shocks through her lower region. The clit already forced from the hood, feeling electric sensations.

At that time her fingers on the supporting hand had actually wrapped around the shaft and pumped slightly as her mouth continued to be closed on and engulfing the head area. Lips drawn circling it then pulling back, then down. Her tongue had remained on the underneath side, sliding on the slick membrane portion. Lips stretching.

As ITs boot had pushed in more firmly, a new sound slid from her. Not the cries and pleas of a hurt female but a moan of her heat. She had found herself beginning to change. Killing off caroline, she could feel something new in her seeking to come out. It had been locked away so many years and now wanted out. IT had known this.

Her sphincter muscle was opening and closing now on the rod holding ball in her ass. Almost trying to pull it in more. Filling her ass.

A new moan slid from her. Her mouth had become more animated on Its cock's head. Head bobbing on the cock head. Working hard.

She had found herself trying to push her pussy to the boots toe but the ball and rod held her firm only causing the inner pussy to be splayed more and exposed more.

Its hand, her hair. The ball moving. Inside. Moaning. Moaning. Changing.

 

[Verse]

The reflex to swallow was reassuring. He was pleased with her as a person as well as her mouth. She didn't have the practiced skill yet, but she innately knew that his cock was for sucking. It hadn't taken any protests or ugly faces for her to take it. Maybe something did stick in her little girl-brain? He held half a smile, while her mouth was full. He liked that his piss was in her stomach now.

He thought she took the attention to her bugling pussy rather well. It could have been torturous if she'd been surprised, but she might even have expected it, the way she was carrying on. He sighed to give her a compliment about her good work with his cock. It is good not to just trust to instinct. She needed to apply herself, as well. Obviously she did. She took more of him. Ambitious.

Her moan vibrated his cock, more now that she had more of him in her. Perverted female. She was living it now. It was important to her growth, so she'd know what part of her he was referencing, later, if she had bouts of her old clarity. He swallowed when she got more into it, sucking cock like it was the best thing. He'd not had to say a word about it. She just knew, and did it willingly.

Almost greedily. That'd make this two sins at the same time. He watched her, and felt her rising approval of when he moved her up and down. Her drooling mouth was singing guttural things onto his cock when he made sure she was fucked by the rod and its round top. She had screamed about it before, this girl in rags and piss on her face. "You're learning quicker than usual." he said and moved back to pop his cock out.

His rested the belly of his cock on her face, to there was friction and his balls hitting her chin, one of her eyes eclipsed as he looked down. He continued with the pace, moved her to have her fuck the metal ball while his dick mopped her face. Slowly, as he guided her into her own rhythm, he would lighten the contact of his fingers in her hair and on her head, to see if she'd go on with riding the rod with her shithole, on her own.

"You can go a little deeper, can't you? It's good to challenge yourself." he encouraged, to gage her engagement in this.

 

[boire]

She had continued working on the head of Its cock, getting so she could press further down onto the shaft with her lips circled. Taking the hard, warm spongey shaft. Pulling back as her lips drug behind, then back downwards again. She had started breathing heavily through her nose and her nostrils had flared with each breath she took. Working him as hard and good as she could.

Head bobbing slow, Its hand on her head, touching her. It had almost been as if IT was showing approval to the work she was performing. She had wanted him to receive pleasure from her.

"You're learning quicker than usual." IT said.

Then it had stepped back from her and the cock had slipped from her mouth. She moaned and had leaned forward with her neck to try and catch it from moving back. Her mouth had stayed open, inviting. Her neck then had bent some so her sordid looking face with teared red eyes had looked upwards. Almost pleading, but pleading for the cock as opposed to no more pain now. She had shown she needed the cock again. Needed to worship it.

IT stepped up and had laid the cocks underneath part on her face. She had been able to suck hungerly at the ball sac as the smooth warm underneath of it rode her face up and down.

IT had continued to hold her by her hair, lifting and settling her onto the ball and rod.

She had moaned, breathed in hard, and actually savored the cock against her face. As she had been lifted, her sphincter had started to stretch, stretch, stretch, and then she had been allowed to settle again so the stretch went away, and she felt full. feeling the relief that led into sexual want.

Her arms had moved back to the chair arms and by using her forearms and elbows she had even started to assist in the up and down movement on the ball in her ass..

Soon Its hand had pulled away and she was lifting and setting herself, over and over on the ball. Lifting to stretch as if to pull out, the settling, taking it deeper and deeper, feeling the sexual excitement it had been causing her. Moans, grunts had slid from her.

Up, down. Up, down. Her eyes closed, Its cock always rubbing her face.

Up inside with the ball as he muscles tightened on the rod. The further it had gone in the more intense she had felt. IT had shown her a heaven and she was now taking it. Her ass now damp, slick, stretching, becoming more relaxed with each push and pull. She had tried to take more each push. Her pussy, sad, splayed open, red, wet. Clit now out of it's hood. Proud.

She had continued to change. Working herself to feelings she had never experienced. A world had started to open.

She had known then there would be a price she had to suffer but now knew she deserved it. IT had shown her that. To feel pleasure and do what is right, one must feel pain in a larger amount to atone for what has been ignored till now.

Her body, her being, and her soul had to be given to IT.

 

[Verse]

Her lips painted him rather tightly in the pace she was going. The friction was pleasurable. Her nostril's breath billowed onto the parts of his cock that was wet with her saliva, but not occupied with her mouth. He huffed, amused when he moved back and she hungrily asked for more, maw open, tilted for him to deposit it back in. It hadn't taken long for her to become like this. Other iterations were daft, and sucked to save their lives. Today she was just attending to his cock to make sure she made him feel good.

He groaned when she instinctively knew to eat his balls when he rested his cock on her face. The way she went on, her eager, it looked as though he she was understanding that he was doing her a favor by letting her have his cock. She really did look grateful, though he could only see half her features. They had a nice moment, when she felt fulfilled, working on worshipping his cock through his scrotum, and adding abuse she appreciated, to her ass and insides.

"That's it." he commented when she used the chair to propel herself up and drag herself down. Oh, Caroline was pretty promising. He'd not even taught her for a day and the whore in her was bubbling free, rapidly. She was perfectly primal soon, letting her cheekbone rub the underside of his cock rhythmically, as she fucked herself on the provided rod and ball. She was understanding what he meant for her to know. She was helping in correcting her own misunderstandings.

He watched as her pussy blossomed to compliment the fucking that was happening, but that it was not a part of. Pretty, blushing cunt, all but turned inside out from all the attention the ass was getting. She was wild now, looking for pleasure on the same thing she had been afraid of, before.

He let her go on, let her find her way on the steel orb deep in her stomach. The cameras would immortalize her actions for the next version. Soon she didn't even have his cock anymore, all she had was that ball deep up her shit shute. And then he slapped her on her wet cheek to bring her out of it. She was close to her pleasure and he had to test her focus.

"Stop." he said simply. When she looked at him she'd see the same male, with his rock hard cock out. "Stand." Which would mean she had to say goodbye the the pleasure of the rod. She was free, after all. "And turn around. Bend over and start cleaning the ball with your mouth." Which would leave her warmed up ass facing him.