Slime Enema

Oozing between her tightly clenched ass-cheeks, you delight in her struggles to regain control. She'll know her place when you're done with her. Forming several tiny filaments, no larger than a hair really, you prod her sphincter and squirm inside the tight ring. You begin to pump goo inside her, careful to exaggerate the bumps of slime so she knows exactly what's happening.

"TH-O-BV!"

She's making quite a lot of noise but can't articulate herself with you still wrapped around her tongue. The threads up her ass have pumped almost a cup of slime inside her but that's all it is: slime. There really isn't enough of YOU inside Song, something you'd like to rectify posthaste. It's really quite convenient that her intestines are full of lubricant but you think you'll just let that soak for a bit. No need to rush things.

"AH-ABH-AaaH!"

You think Song may have given up on generating coherent words and is just making noise to try and get your attention. You can see her discomfort as the cool slime spreads through her bowels. When you start to feel the pressure increase, you stop pumping in lubricant and retract the filaments. She clenches her ass and pulls her legs as far together as she can, trying to stop the clear green fluid from oozing out. Funny. She put up such a fight trying to stop you from putting it in there.

Throughout all this you've continued to softly stimulate her vulva and clitoris, adding a soft undertone of arousal to the fear and anger. You slither pencil-thick tendrils over her wrists and into the sleeves of her modest blouse, caressing the sensitive skin with little cilia that sprout from your "skin". She bucks and screams, though you aren't sure whether from fear or arousal. Based on the flow you're feeling from her pussy it's probably at least both.

Sliding under her armpits you tickle the smooth skin evilly before splitting the twin masses of tentacles further into two groups. One slithers around her arm and over her shoulder, looping around her neck before sliding down to caress her collarbone. The other slips under the sides of her bra and curls under and over her moderately sized breasts, spiraling from the outside in, till you slide across her areolae and perfectly ring her nipples.

You can tell that Song is overwhelmed by the various sensations you're giving her and even though she continues to struggle valiantly, her eyes have lost focus and her breathing is labored. She is most certainly aroused, probably angry, probably frightened, and possibly zoning out from overstimulation. Hm. You had intended this to be a lesson. Perhaps you should dial it back a bit?