The ordeal

She took him to a coffin where, after untying Wednesday, Morticia made him pass his limbs through specially designed holes and completely immobilize him.

• What are you doing, Mother?
• That's better, but I'll remind you of our values.

Before she understood, Morticia, the contents of a huge bag in the coffin, into which thousands of shapeless, tentacle-like creatures poured out. Morticia first felt unbearable tickling, drawing a grotesque smile from her despite her terror.

• Please, Mother, no, I...
• But before she understood, Morticia closed and locked the coffin, leaving her alone with her creatures, who were beginning to slip all over her, but also all over her.

I'll leave you for an hour with our friends to let you enjoy your first punishment, my dear Wednesday Addams. No mercy... she's killing herself, one tentacle plunging into her mouth, another into her sex, another into her anus.

The tentacles slid over her skin, cold and slimy, writhing with a life of their own. Wednesday stifled a scream as the one in her mouth pushed deeper, pulsing like a monstrous tongue. Another tendril insinuated itself between her lower lips, probing with vicious curiosity, while the one lodged in her anus slowly swelled, stretching her with a steady movement.

Her hips heaved against her will, the muscles of her stomach contracting under the creatures' ****. The tentacles penetrated her mercilessly, she lost the number of them that were inside her and that were swarming, causing sexual convulsions while the rest of her body was the plaything of friction, caresses that put her in an unbearable sexual state.

A hoarse moan escaped her throat, muffled by the living mass that filled her mouth. The tentacles in her sex and anus pulsed rhythmically, thickening in waves, as if trying to stretch her even further.

The tentacles wrapped around her breasts, kneading them, compressing them to the point where she felt they were about to burst like overripe fruit. Violent shivers ran through her as the suction cups adhered to her skin, pulling at her nipples until they were painfully pointed. Another tendril slid along her stomach, tracing wet circles before dividing into thin strips that wrapped around her thighs, spreading them even wider.

A first orgasm took hold of her, but there was nothing she liked about it; it was pure and simple **** by these things that pushed her to her limits. Sometimes one or more tentacles ejaculated an even more viscous kind of sperm. She lost track of time, which was punctuated only by her **** orgasms or jets of semen.

Wednesday gasped, her body racked by uncontrollable spasms as the tentacles continued their relentless work. A new wave of thick, cold liquid spread inside her, filling every nook and cranny with agonizing slowness. She felt one of the creatures swell in her belly, its undulating form pressing against her inner walls, while another tendril insinuated itself deeper into her throat, nearly stealing her breath away.

Just as she was about to descend into madness, her mother opened her mouth, amused at her daughter's ragged state.

• You liked it, my dears. Will you obey without restriction, or shall we continue?

Wednesday's body convulsed as another thick tentacle pushed deeper, its throbbing ridges rubbing against her inner walls in a rhythm that mimicked the act of intercourse. Her back arched violently as another wave of cold, gelatinous semen flooded her uterus, the overflow trickling down her thighs in glistening streams. Two more tendrils rose into her nostrils, their tapered tips expanding just enough to make her moan through the creature filling her mouth, leaving her barely enough to breathe.

Her vision blurred as another **** orgasm shook her: the tentacle in her rear suddenly twisted, its bulbous tip swelling until she felt her body tense to the limit.

Morticia withdrew the tentacle from her mouth with a mock-apologetic expression.

Oh, right, you can't answer me, so your answer?

• Yes, yes, please, I'll do anything you want, Mother, I'm your little female dog.
• Well, go away, my beauties.

The creatures withdrew almost reluctantly. Wednesday looked at her mother in terror, remembering that her family was capable of anything. Morticia planted a finger in her daughter's sex, bringing back a little tentacled sperm.

• Hmm, delicious, you don't know what tastes good. Let's move on to the next part of your training. Did you enjoy this divine terror? How do you rate it?
• Struggling to regain her composure, 9/10, Mother.

Morticia pouted.

• I see you haven't gotten over Uncle's foul joke, and yet you love him more than us, I sometimes think. Okay, follow me for the rest.