Post-coitus squeeze

"Squeeze."

Vanessa groaned in pain. This was enough. Enough! Stop! Fucker! Fucking fuck fucker! Vanessa's body tensed, straining in effort. Corded muscles in her elegant neck stood taut underneath her Bitch collar. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

"There's no more left, Brand! Sir, I mean, sorry, bu- P-Please!" Vanessa's voice was as strained as her firm, arched black body. She had to keep moderating her tone, keep it under control. She had shouted at Brand, pleaded with him, cursed him, begged him, and tried to reason with him. All of it had been ultimately ignored, but venting her anger had the worst results for her.. "Sir! ... Please let me stop."

She changed tactics. "Just a moment. Just one moment," Vanessa gasped desperately.

Brand let up for a moment. He slowly, playfully twisted the tail in Vanessa's anus with one hand, turning and spinning it during Vanessa's brief, panting respite.

"I want every drop."

"Squeeze."

Far worse than the hand playing with her tail, supporting her awkward crouched stance with her butt plug, his other hand was helping keep Vanessa upright by gripping her breast. And every time he said 'Squeeze', like she was a... she didn't know what. But not a person. Every time he did that, said 'Squeeze', he squeezed. Hard. He twisted, and mauled her poor, sensitive, and increasingly tortured brown orb. Like somehow he could squeeze that... that gross stuff out of her, down below.

It might be working. Vanessa knew that she hadn't been trying nearly as hard to fulfill her latest sick instruction before Brand had started abusing her teat.

The forty one year old ebony executive was squatting over a small, shallow glass bowl, feet still bound, hands and arms encased together in a leather sheathe behind her. Her mouth grimaced and she squinted her eyes - her black, puffy eye and its tortured companion - with her effort while she flexed her stomach and her vagina to the best of her ability. The twisting was relentless. Vanessa's groan started turning into a pained wail. Brand finally let up again, leaving her panting.

Bastard! Fucking... fucking Bastard! She... she didn't even know what part of her stomach, her cunt, her... her guts she should be 'squeezing'. The little dessert bowl beneath her slick, fresh-fucked cunt had a small amount of milky fluid in it. Brand's ejaculate, and Vanessa's own female secretions, mixed together into a little goopy mess from where it all had dropped out of her vaginal opening. That had been a quarter hour ago, with no further progress except for a little added pussy drool. Yet Brand seemed convinced, absolutely convinced that she was holding more in her. And so she had been tortured by Brand to somehow flex more fluid out of her insides.

Like... like she could magically just shoot his disgusting mess out of her vagina! He was acting like she was trying to hold it inside her! Like there was even anything there!

"Squeeze."

N-no... No! Not again! Vanessa's body jerked upwards, and she would have toppled off her spread, crouched feet if Brand hadn't gripped her udder even harder, balancing her tottering weight using her sensitive female flesh.

Tears of frustration ran down Vanessa's smooth, dark cheeks. When would he be satisfied? Please. She was squeezing!

"Please," Vanessa sobbed. She was steady again, but the twisting was unbearable. "Please! I'm squeezing! I'm trying! I'm squeezing as hard as I can! See? See?! Please! Please!"

Brand ignored her latest plea. If anything he twisted a little more at each word Vanessa uttered. She could feel a scream building in her chest, climbing up her throat. In a moment she wouldn't be able to hold back the -

plop!

The bowl beneath her got a little extra something in it.

Brand finally released his tension. Vanessa almost laughed - hysterically laughed. The scream was turning into something else. Her chest shook a little in queer, mad mirth. Her mouth opened as Brand allowed her to topple forward, right on her face. Her contorted face, that didn't know whether to smile in relief or sob in horror. Something escaped her mouth, not the scream from before, not a laugh either. Something confused... air. Confused air, pulsing out from her dark lips, unformed by her teeth or throat, unknowing what had become of the scream it was supposed to be.

A vibration sounded in the room. Vanessa's contorted expression, mashed against the floor, went blank. A quiet little musical chime sounded. And again. Her chime. Her phone. Vanessa, without use of her hands or even shoulders... there was nothing, nothing she could do. Brand grabbed the mobile phone from her things. With her ankles spread apart and bound by a rigid bar, she could barely get her knees underneath her belly.

Brand was looking at her phone, thumb ready to swipe.

"Who is Elaine?"

Whatever air was left in Vanessa's lungs was knocked out of her, like the big man had stepped on her naked back. Elly...?!

Oh, god! Oh god! Not now!

Brand studied her face. Vanessa's mouth was hanging open, slack and stupid.

Brand slid his thumb halfway across the screen.

"Maybe I'll just answer it. You don't look at all ready to speak. I'll just explain -"

"No!" Vanessa flopped and wormed her way towards Brand, dragging her squished breasts with her. "I'll answer!"

She would? She was... like this? She would talk to...

Brand finished his swipe, and the phone hit the ground in front of Vanessa's face. A picture of her only child - a three-quarter profile of her lovely, smiling daughter looked at her from a small portrait.

"M-Mom?" Elly's voice caught with a sob. Something was wrong.

"Elly?"

Brand stroked Vanessa's tousled hair out of her eyes, and crouched to look curiously at the tiny portrait picture of her daughter.

Everything was wrong.