Beg Pan to stop talking and just fuck you — you need her cock inside you right now.

Pan's Underground Chamber, Pandora's Box Costume Shop, at 1:27 AM on Thursday October 31st, 2024

"Stop talking," I sob, my voice raw and wrecked. My pussy is still clenching around Sable's buried tentacle, aftershocks rippling through me, and the emptiness I feel when it doesn't move is unbearable. "Pan — fuck me — just fuck me, I need your cock, I need it now, please stop making me wait —"

Pan's expression shifts. The calm, storytelling patience drains from her face, replaced by something predatory and delighted. Her amber eyes blaze.

"Oh," she breathes. "Oh, you eager little thing."

She doesn't remove her skirt. She simply hikes it up over her hips, and her cock springs free — fully erect, ten inches of thick, veiny flesh, the head already glistening with pre-cum. It bobs heavily between her thighs, the shaft pulsing with her heartbeat, her heavy balls drawn up tight with need.

"Since you're so eager —" she growls, climbing onto the bed between my spread legs.

Sable doesn't withdraw. Instead, it thrusts — a brutal, piston-like slam that buries its tentacle even deeper, stretching my pussy to its absolute limit. I shriek, my back arching off the silk sheets, and before I can even process the sensation, a second thick tentacle presses against my asshole. No warning. No preparation. Just the slick, aphrodisiac-coated head pushing insistently against my tight ring of muscle.

"You said you needed it," Pan purrs, positioning herself at my mouth. Her cock slaps against my cheek, leaving a wet streak of pre-cum across my skin. "So we'll give you everything."

Sable's second tentacle breaches my ass — the thick head popping past my sphincter with a wet, obscene sound. The stretch is immense, burning and filling simultaneously, and my scream is muffled by Pan's cockhead pressing between my lips. She doesn't wait for me to open — she pushes, the fat tip forcing past my teeth, sliding over my tongue, filling my mouth with the taste of salt and musk and something sweetly intoxicating.

Ink abandons my nipples and coils its smaller tentacles around my thighs, spreading me wider still. Two mouthed appendages latch onto my clit simultaneously — dual suction that sends lightning through my entire nervous system. I cum again instantly, my pussy and ass clamping down on Sable's invading limbs, my throat convulsing around Pan's cock as she shoves deeper.

"That's it," Pan groans, her fingers tangling in my hair, gripping hard enough to make my scalp sting. She pulls back and rams forward, her cock hitting the back of my throat, stretching my jaw wide. "Swallow it, kitten. Take every fucking inch."

Sable begins fucking me in earnest — both tentacles pistoning in tandem, one in my pussy, one in my ass, thick and relentless and coated in that maddening aphrodisiac slime that makes everything feel ten times more intense. The wet, squelching sounds echo through the chamber — schlick, schlick, schlick — obscene and rhythmic. My pussy gushes around the tentacle with every thrust, juices running down my thighs, pooling on the sheets.

Pan fucks my throat with savage precision, her hips snapping forward, her cock sliding deep enough that I can feel it in my chest. Saliva pours from the corners of my stretched lips, dripping down my chin, my neck. She grips my cat ears — pulls them — and the jolt of sensation makes me cum a third time, my whole body seizing, squirting around Sable's tentacle in hot spurts.

"Good girl," Pan grunts, her pace increasing. Her balls slap against my chin with every thrust. "Good fucking girl. You wanted this — you begged for this — so take it. Take all of it."

Ink's mouthed tentacles suck my clit harder, and I feel another orgasm building already — impossible, devastating, stacking on top of the last one before it's even finished. Sable's tentacles thrust deeper, harder, faster, and the aphrodisiac slime is making my insides burn with pleasure so intense it borders on madness.

Pan pulls her cock from my throat with a wet pop, gasping, her shaft throbbing and slick with my spit. She looks down at me — flushed, drooling, eyes glazed, cumming continuously — and her smile is feral.

"I think," she says, repositioning herself between my legs, "it's time I filled that pretty little cunt myself."

Sable withdraws from my pussy with a long, wet slide, and the emptiness it leaves is agonizing. I whimper, my hips bucking upward, chasing the sensation. Pan lines her cock up — the massive, throbbing head pressing against my swollen, dripping entrance — and pauses.

"Beg me again," she commands.