Chapter 2

Chelsea really was becoming quite adept in the kitchen. Her doting owners, Mike and Ryan, the two corrupt cops that had kidnapped her four months ago, would spoil her with new ingredients and recipes for her to try her hand on all the time. She had a book propped open on the counter, turned to the page titled “Chocolate Drizzle and Truffle Torte.” She pushed some blonde locks of hair out of her gently swaying face, her eyes having trouble focusing on the moving words, and groaned.

Wearing nothing but tall red heels, a tiny backless apron, and a disheveled hair bun, the flustered girl was having her cunt fucked by a wide metal whisk. She stood on one trembling leg while the other was spread wide up onto the counter top, while Ryan stood behind her and stroked the cooking implement into her quivering sex at a leisurely pace. She was half bent over the countertop at a large bowl, her head turned to read the book, and she was surrounded by ingredients.

“Talk to me slut. What does the recipe call for?”

“nnngh ... i-it ... it needs eggs, b-butter...” Her pussy lips stretched wide as he nearly pulled the entire whisk from her, the fat bulb gaping her sensitive flesh open for view, before being pushed forward again, slowly ascending up inside her and banging into her cervix. By now she was more accustomed to being cunt-stuffed than not, but they always managed to humiliate her with new, weird insertions.

“ ... sugar, c-cream ... unh! oww a-almonds!” As she repeated the ingredients to him, he bottomed out the whisk and rotated it roughly, the fat mesh construction sending bizarre, full stretching sensations through her. It also hurt, the end smashing mercilessly against her womb, making her face wince. Satisfied, he slowly pulls it back out again, starting the whole process anew.

“So what are you waiting for?” he demanded. “Get started!” While she reached out with shaky fingers he continued pumping her cunt, the stiff smooth wires of the whisk sinking into the walls of her tight, elastic flesh. Keeping her leg on the counter and herself open to him, she measured out some sugar and dumped it into the bowl. Her shapely ass cheeks jiggled every time he bottomed the whisk out, his right hand putting pressure on it while his left hand tightly gripped her raised thigh.

This seemed to go on forever to Chelsea. When she needed to walk to the fridge to get some milk, Ryan sighed and let her drop her leg back down to the floor, the whisk still jammed up inside her, the handle slightly poking out between her legs.

“You wouldn’t need to get milk if your fuckbags weren’t so god damn useless, would you?” She flushed red, and stammered out a “No sir.” Well, no matter. They were working on that problem.

She shuffled awkwardly to the fridge, pulled out the milk, and added it to the mix. “What are you doing? Get that leg back up on the counter!” “Sorry sir!” she again raises her trembling leg and exposes her quivering sex to him, and he gets back to his own work, twisting the whisk back and forth, prying it side to side. Because the hollow whisk held her open, her juices would occasionally drip down onto the floor. He’d make her lick it up later. She awkwardly bent over the cake mix as she added the final ingredients.

“Okay Sir, I j-just n-need to mix the-Aii!” Ryan had released the whisk and jammed his thumb up her ass. She squealed but didn’t otherwise protest, not even when he worked in his other thumb beside it and started prying the little hole open, her full cheeks filling his hands.

“You may use the whisk now.” Embarrassed, she reached between her legs and pulled the whisk out, sighing in relief at the empty sensation. Ryan pulls his thumbs from her ass and slaps it, before sticking them in her mouth one at at time.

While she sucked his thumbs clean, fighting back the retching feeling, she mixed the cake with the pussy-juice coated whisk. Her tits jiggled heavily under her thin apron, and Ryan pulls his thumb from her mouth with a faint pop.

A few minutes later the cake batter was baking in the oven, and Chelsea turned to her other duties for the day.

“You might need that whisk again later. Rinse it off and put it back up inside that whorish fuckbox of yours. And lick up the mess you’ve made.” She knelt down quickly and licked up the secretions that had dripped to the floor, her own scent filling her nose.

He made her rinse the batter off the whisk before shoving it up inside her again, so she walked a little bowlegged as she went to gather her cleaning supplies.

She had pulled off her apron, leaving her naked, and started to pull on a pair of latex gloves so she could start cleaning the house when Ryan stopped her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Her heart dropped a little. She knew exactly what it was time to do, but had hoped he had forgotten.

Sighing, she pulls her gloves off. “I’m sorry Sir. I’ll go get everything ready.”

Mike and Ryan had decided they wanted her lactating, and thus put her on a routine of hormone injections, paid for by the money they had made whoring her out at the old warehouse last week. She went and gathered the sterile needles, her ‘medicine,’ and a ball of twine. God she hated that twine.

She set everything down on the dining room table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and groaned. The little handle poking out from the whisk shoved up her cunt rested on the chair, pushing the wire cage up against her cervix, but she knew better than to complain. She threw her arms over the back of the chair behind her, her plump sweatermeat pushed forwards with her shoulders rolled back. Her back arched slightly, and she waited.

She waited a good fifteen minutes, Ryan having gone to get his buddy Mike from outside, who had been mowing the lawn. The two cooled down a bit drinking some beers in front of her, completely ignoring her existence. After a bit, they turned their attention towards her, Chelsea not having moved from her required position, her womb throbbing.

“Alright slut, I know you’re anxious to address your barren milkbags. How’s your sensitivity?”

She didn’t want ‘to address’ anything, she was perfectly fine with not producing any milk. The way she saw it, it would just be something else the pair would use against her.

“They’re still a little tender from last week sir” she answered sadly. *Slap! Mike slapped her right breast hard, and her yelp confirmed the veracity of her words. She bit her lower lip as a tear formed in her eye. “I see what you mean. I know it hurts bitch, but it’s for the best. Your breastmeat is useless as it is, but your medicine will get everything back on track.”

While he spoke to her, Ryan filled a syringe with her ‘medicine.’ It was simply a hormone cocktail designed to induce lactation in women, but they would always heavily water it down to reduce its effectiveness. They saw no reason to cut their fun short with her treatments, after all, and her milk production was steadily increasing as the weeks went by, albeit at a snail’s pace.

She knew they put something bad in it, but wasn’t sure what. Right now it was four parts ‘filler’ to one part actual treatment. The filler, unfortunately for Chelsea, was salt water and nettle extract. He prepared two gleaming syringes, one with a short needle, the other nearly twice as long.

Mike picked up the ball of twine and looked at her. “Will we have to restrain you today?” “No sir!” she answered hurriedly. Last time they had to do that, they had caned her breasts afterwards in admonishment. “I will keep my hands behind the chair!”

“See that you do.” Forming a slipknot with the twine, he loops it around her left breast, pulling the jiggling boob forward roughly by her nipple, until the loop was snug around the base. Looking her in the eye, he pulls the twine tight with all his strength.

“Ungh!” the loop cinches tightly closed and her tit mushroomed out, the flesh rapidly turning a light pink color. He loops the tit a few more times and ties it off, ignoring her groaning.

Repeating the process on her right breast, both titties are soon captured by the rough twine, the tender breastflesh roughly strangled. Her nipples stood out like little pellets, unable to soften under the pressure. Ryan stood by with the short needled syringe, grinning.

“Remember, hands behind the chair. Tell me why, slut.” “Because I’m a good fucktoy sir...” her voice quavered, pushing down the panic she felt as Mike’s hand descended to her nipples. She tightly gripped the chair back.

Gripping each nubbin painfully tight, Mike pulls her udders up, threatening the lift the chair’s feet from the floor while Chelsea moaned. The heavy undersides of her womanly chest jiggled, the soft curves peppered with light red dots from previous injections. The marks were slow to heal.

Kneeling down, Ryan lines up the shorter needle and quickly jabs it straight up into the soft curving underboob, the sharp point disappearing instantly at his abrupt, stabbing insertion. Chelsea hissed but remained still, her knuckles white, and Ryan emptied the syringe’s contents into the fleshy titbag. Pulling it out, he refills it and lines it up again for a second time with the same breast, piercing the underside in one smooth, heartless motion.

“Ngh! Oww, oww oww” she whimpers, and can feel the beginning pangs of the ache to come as her nerves become aware of the contents of her ‘medicine.’ Ryan refills the syringe twice more to infuse her other breast as well, with the same level of gentleness.

*Stab! “nggh! oh...” the gleaming little needle reached just short of the center of her orbs, and its removal was just as quick and abrupt as its insertion. It left a growing, hollowed out burning sensation behind.

While he began to prepare the long needled syringe, Mike roughly shakes her tits by her nipples, her jiggling flesh dancing as he ‘stirred’ up the remedy within her.

“Ouch! S-sirs, please, do we have to -ah!- use the long needle thiiis tiiMME?” Her voice rose an octave as he excessively twisted the sensitive tit tips, spiraling the funbags into twisted cones. By now her tits were already burning inside, and she knew it was about to be even worse.

“Of course we do” answered Ryan, winking at her. “You don’t want to jeopardize the effectiveness of your treatments, do you?” “ahhh I ... no Sir” she struggled find words that wouldn’t piss him off, her pain addled brain failing her. She just had to go along with him, or she would suffer more.

Mike moved behind her and changed his grip, filling his hands with her titties. He squeezed down powerfully on the already strangled globes, his fingers sinking into her and making her cunt squeeze tightly on the whisk. Ryan lined up the long syringe with her right nipple.

In contrast with her underside injections, he opted for an agonizingly slow and steady piercing. Slowly the glinting sharp tip sank its way into the center of her nipple, down into the very core of her sensitive breastmeat, and Chelsea’s breath hitched loudly. Her back arched further, and her head hung backwards, her lips parted on her wincing face.

“Oh! OHH god that huuuurts!” she wriggled in her seat, still desperately clutching the the seat back, Mike helping to hold her still by her tits. The needle’s length was carefully chosen, allowing Ryan to fully seat the heartless steel through the very center of her breast nearly to the chest wall. Once it was finally fully embedded, he began to extract the needle while depressing the plunger, the stinging hormone, salt water, and nettle concoction spreading into her delicate mammary glands. The tight twine around the bases of her tits severely constricted her circulation, ensuring her medicine would stay in the tissues for some time, marinating in her milkbags.

“Ahh ... nggggh!” he pulls the syringe out and a small droplet of blood leaks from the nipple. Acting quickly, he tied a small loop of twine around the nipple and pulls it tight. No reason to let her bleed on anything.

Her breast throbbed horribly, both from the ‘medicine’ and from the long, cold needle that had just been skewering her. She didn’t have long to wait before it began its ascent through her other tortured nipple.

Whimpering pitifully, it was all Chelsea could do to not thrash about. She shook like a leaf when the needle began its slow ascent back out of her boob, the burning solution filling her up. When it was finally withdrawn, her nipple was quickly tied off, the tight slipknot making the little teat look like it was about to pop. She began to weep and sniffle quietly.

“Well done slut. I’m proud of you.” Mike leaned down and kissed her, a soft sob traveling from her lips into his. “Th-thank you, Sir. Ahh! Ahhh!” She did not get up from the chair, however. They were not quite done.

Still arching her back, thrusting her aching titmeat out, Mike picked up the final part of her milk treatment; an oscillating massage gun. They always pummeled her titties with the device after her injections, ostensibly to more evenly distribute the hormone treatment within.

Chelsea could feel her bosom bulging angrily as it tried to cope with the stinging poison of the nettles, the twine binding her quietly creaking around the swelling girlflesh. The skin felt tight and full when Mike touched the hard rubber ball to her left breast, and she almost passed out when he turned it on.

Rapidly punching forward and backwards, the machine worked her swelling funbags as if they were a hard knotted muscle. Mike thumbed the controls up to maximum and leaned in hard with his weight, Ryan standing behind her to hold her chair upright.

“UghhH!!!!N-Nooo!! I! ... I c-can’t do this! S-stoooop!” Chelsea cried openly at the intense soreness radiating from her pummeled chest as Mike slowly worked the punishing ball over the abused mammary. Her breast was completely crushed flat under the force, and after working it for a minute he switched to the other tit. Chelsea was breathing hysterically and clung white knuckled to her seat, terrified if she let go they would cane her afterwards. This was bad enough.

She dropped her head again backwards over the seat and leaned back, her feet flexing and back arching in pain, bare ass lifting from the chair. This pushed her torso higher up, shoulder blades right on top of the chair back, allowing Mike change his angle and apply more downward force. Only Ryan kept her seat from toppling over.

“I hope you appreciate all the effort we put into you, slut.” “Ahh! I ... I! NNHG!” Mike raised the massage gun from her tit, only to energetically punch it back down again. “I mean, this is a lot of time we could be spending on other things, you know?”

He deeply massaged her sore sweatermeat for a good 30 minutes, alternating every 2 minutes or so. His boot heels bruisingly leaving the floor, he liked to start by crushing her central peaks to her ribs, then slowly drag the gun in ever widening concentric circles. The flattening buxom bust wobbled intensely, her groans only getting louder and louder. Finally satisfied that the fat-titted chest was sufficiently rubbed down, her milk ducts soaking in her medicine, he shut the machine off.

Slap! “Ungh!!” SLAP “NghhhH!!!” He slaps both titties, his white handprint briefly visible on the dark pink breastflesh. With the massage gun removed, she relaxes and falls back down to her seat, grunting between her sobs at the wire whisk still up her spread cunt bashing into her womb, her own weight punishing her womanhood. Chelsea sat gasping with tears leaking down her face.

“Well, that ought to do it. You can get back to cleaning now, slut. Make sure you leave those funbags tied up for another hour.” Mike grinned like a kid in a candy store. He did love to manhandle this whore’s titties.

“Y-yes sir. I w-will.”

She gingerly rose up and gathered up all the tools they had used, disposing of the old syringes and putting her medicine back in the fridge for next week. With her sore breasts and nipples still tied tight and her sex lips stretched wide around the wire whisk, she put her latex gloves on and started scrubbing the floor.

Her cake had, of course, come out wonderfully, and the house now shone with a clean sparkle unknown before Chelsea had come to live in Mike’s home. She wasn’t allowed to eat the cake, of course, as such food was better than a bitch deserved. Mike and Ryan ate slices of it while they watched her clean. Now it was getting late, and Chelsea was preparing the soup for her captive brother held in the basement below.

She only ever got to eat the cold leftover scraps from Mike and Ryan’s plates, and had to lick all the dishes and cooking pans clean before washing them. Even her brother Andy, their prisoner kept down below to use as leverage against her, ate better tasting meals than her, but not by much. She had prepared a nutritious soup for him, with little bits of steak and vegetables, trying to make it as healthy as possible. He only got one meal per day after all, and it had to be soup.

As required of her, she lowered her apron and gently squeezed her nipples, trying to express some milk into his food. She moaned piteously as her hands worked the bruised, distressed flesh. The steamy vapors rose up around her chest as she gently milked herself of her cream, but she still hardly produced anything. She could barely get a half ounce of milk out of her tender bags each day, but still, that was better than nothing. Another 2 months or so of her treatment and she’d probably be up to respectable levels. As it was, her sore teats let out a brief, fine spray then dripped the rest of her meager dairy into the soup.

Satisfied, she picked up the bowl and made her way downstairs, Ryan walking with her for supervision.

Her older brother was the whole reason she was even here. Andy had been caught attempting to break into a car by Matt and Ryan, who were on duty. The pair learned about his cute sister Chelsea from him and decided that instead of bringing Andy in, they would lock him up as leverage to use against Chelsea. Now they were both their captives, except Andy was never permitted to leave his cell in the basement, and survived on meager rations.

When Ryan opened Andy’s cell door, Chelsea could see he had been watching TV. Chelsea had begged and begged for them to allow him this convenience, she was afraid he would lose his mind being locked in isolation for so long. After a particularly satisfying night of double teaming her throat and ass, they had finally granted her request. She had fucked them like her life depended on it, which in a very real way it did.

Andy sat quietly in his chair, his hands cuffed together in front of him, as always. He wasn’t allowed to move from his chair when people were in his cell, Ryan’s gun trained on him the whole time. He used to shout at them, but a few hours of malicious tasing corrected his attitude. He watched warily as his naked sister entered the cell.

“Ch ... chelsea. No ... don’t.” She didn’t answer him, she was forbidden from communicating with him. She set his soup on the floor and turned to approach him. Dutifully, as required of her, she sank to her knees, a tear rolling down her face, and fished his cock from his pants. His legs felt so thin to her beneath the fabric.

He was already hard. He hated when his sister brought him his food for the day, but he couldn’t also help but look forward to it. He felt like a piece of shit, but when her hot, steamy mouth sucked him in and wrung his balls dry, it brought him so much pleasure and comfort in an otherwise desperate situation.

Feeling like dirt, humiliated at both herself and her brother’s actions, Chelsea ran her tongue up the underside of his cock before wetly sucking him in. At least Andy never tried to shove his length down her throat. She quietly blew her brother, her blowjobs vastly improving over the last few months, and she cupped his balls tenderly.

“Chelsea! God damn it!” he knew they were making her do this, and if he stopped her they would both be punished. Still, he was completely caught of guard when she suddenly popped off his cock and, looking him dead in the eye, blew a little white bubble with his pre-cum.

“Wh-what? What’s wrong with you!?” he groaned, his cock hardening like steel. She engulfed his member again, sucking him down nearly to her throat, but stopping short of throating him. She hated being throated, even though she had to do it all the time.

Andy never lasted long. The wrongness of it being his sister’s mouth magnified his lust. To his shame he started spurting his load, and she swallowed it all down. She didn’t really feel all that nauseous anymore swallowing cum, at least, not nearly as much as she used to. She looked up at him in apology, never saying a word, and patted his knee before turning to leave with Ryan back upstairs. She quickly bends and picks up Andy’s discarded bowl from yesterday.

“You’re getting quicker at blowing him. Are you that cockhungry?” Ryan teased her as he closed Andy’s soundproof cell door.

“ ... I just want to get it over with, sir.” she answered dejectedly.

“Uh huh, that looked a little too enthusiastic to me. It’s not so bad you know. He doesn’t have to work, gets a free meal, and a blowjob every day. There have been worse fates. Probably boring as hell though.” She glared at him for a second, then looked away.

*Slap! Annoyed at her glance, he slapped her across the face.

“What’s your duty to any cock?” he demanded from the cowering girl. “ ... to swallow them sir. I’m a fucktoy.” “That’s right, and I don’t care who it belongs to. Would you prefer I cut that fucker’s dick off? Since you hate blowing him so much.” “No! No! I’ll suck him, really. It’s no trouble sir. Please don’t hurt him.”

Shaking his head at her, he leads her back upstairs. She had another round of assfucking coming to her for that look ... and then a wicked idea entered his mind. As he pulled out his phone and dialed the police chief, he remarked to her casually.

“Slut, go give yourself an enema.” Her face blanched. This never ended well for her.

It was 2 AM, and Chelsea had no idea how she ended up in this predicament. After giving herself no less than three enemas, of increasing size per Ryan, the three of them piled into the squad car to visit the police chief, Daniel. Chelsea was thrown into her customary position in the back, the darkly tinted windows cracked open to the freezing winter air, while the strong clamps of her tit leash bit fiercely into her nipples. They brought her massive, studded black buttplug with them.

That was a few hours ago. Now the sweaty girl grunted like an animal on the floor of the police station, surrounded by Mike, Ryan, and 10 other cops. They had made some phone calls and quickly arranged this after hours party. Chelsea was overdue to be shared with their friends anyway. The happier they kept their friends at the station, the less likely any investigation into Chelsea’s whereabouts would get off the ground. They had been sodomizing her for hours, Mike and Ryan requesting that everyone fill her ass with their cum.

A huge six and a half foot behemoth of a man was plowing into her tight, upraised ass with a vengeance, the poor girl squeaking with each thrust into her abused butt. His long, fat cock burrowed its way deeply into her, sliding wetly along her lubricated asstube.

“Ungh! ha-aaagh!” it felt like someone’s arm was up there, and she bit her index finger on her clenched hands. Bottoming out, the man roared as he poured his cum into her bowels, adding his seed to that of his companions.

“Ohhhh! no, wait! UngH!!” Before her ass could close up, Ryan brutally shoved the fat gleaming buttplug up her ass, sealing the baby batter within. She squealed as the metal studs scraped their way inside of her. They intended to fill her up with cum, and she was not permitted to let any leak out. As far as Ryan was concerned, she could start throwing up cum and he’d still seal up that tight little ass.

As she clutched at her hair and moaned, feeling the loads sloshing around inside her, Mike walked over to Ryan and laughed.

“She looked at you funny, huh?” “Don’t give me that man, you know she can have attitude. I’m sick of it.” Mike smiled apologetically. “You’re right, of course. It shouldn’t be tolerated. I do think she’s getting better though.”

Knowing the room of cops was staring and what’s expected of her, Chelsea started crawling over to Daniel, the police chief, who had sat down for a breather. She hungrily sucked his sweaty balls into her mouth, smelling the leftover cum and juices from his previous assfuck.

“Damn, you boys really found a good one.” He sighed as he let her work his cock back into hardness. It had been about an hour, so he reckoned he might be able to put another load up her ass, but his batteries were running low.

Chelsea sloppily ran her tongue around his balls and suckled on them, then ran her tongue up the hardening shaft. Licking the tip, she sucked him down and worked his rod with her tongue.

“What’s ours is yours chief, you know that.” Mike offered. It was in their best interest to stay on the chief’s good side.

“Yes, well ... ahh that’s nice - I’ll be visiting this little tart again for sure.” Chelsea popped off his dick and returned to softly nursing his balls, but he pushed her from him. Standing up, he shoves her face to the ground and pulls the fat plug from her ass.

“Unngh! Ouccch!” her ass widens painfully over the overly large flared head of the studded plug, and it comes free with a wet pop. Her spasming asshole gaped and twitched before the chief while he jacks his cock, finishing the job she started. Aiming right for her opened butt, he shot his load directly into the winking hole, then moved aside as another one of his men took his place, sliding their cock home up her ass.

Grunting, Chelsea was glad she at least managed to avoid getting buttfucked by the chief again. This guy though was definitely enthusiastic, the clapping sound of her cheeks filling the room as he hammered her back door.

Thwump! Thwump! Thwump! Thwump! *Thwump!

The cop tensed and shot his load into her, adding to her internal cesspool. She could feel his cock twitching as he came, his thighs flush against her cheeks. Pulling out, he roughly shoved her plug back up her tailpipe. Her breath hitched as it slid home. It may be sliding in easier, but it still always felt like she was being ripped apart. She sat back up on her haunches, looking at them.

“Please, can we take the plug out? You’ve been fucking my ass for hours ... please. Let me suck your cocks or something instead.” she pleaded with them. Her ass hurt so much, and she hated the feeling of the sloshing cum inside her. She had lost count, but she had taken 22 loads up her butt thus far.

Mike laughed at her. “I think we all need a little breather, fucktoy. But since you asked so nicely, we’ll find you something to suck on while we rest up.” “That’s not what I meant-”

Diane, the only other woman present, had been watching with disgust in the corner. She was good friends with the Chief and, being a true sadist, enjoyed these little shows, but she couldn’t believe what a dirty slut Chelsea was. This wasn’t a girl, this was fuckmeat. She deserved no mercy.

“I think I can take care of that Mike.” she said offhandedly and some of the guys cheered. Startled at the feminine voice, Chelsea turned to see a large, long pink strap-on in front of her face. The head was huge!

“What do-mmmhph!” Diane shoved her fake cock into the girl’s balking mouth before she couldn’t finish speaking. She immediately started pumping her hips, working the girl’s sloppy mouth while Chelsea looked up despondently. Why was another woman doing this to her?

The guys cracked open refreshments and sat down for a breather, watching the show with interest. Chelsea gagged as the dildo was shoved down into her throat, the fat head squeezing tightly into her gullet. She retched pathetically around the hard plastic, pleading with her eyes.

“Mmmggh!! Gngsggngg!...” Ignoring her, Diane kept the fuckslut’s nose firmly pressed to her crotch, Chelsea clawing frantically at Diane’s thighs. Finally, as Chelsea weakened, she quickly pulled the throat buster out, multiple wet strands of saliva connecting the strap-on to the bitch’s glistening lips. The flared, bulbous end glinted ominously under the light.

She barely managed to gasp in a ragged breath before her throat was roughly plugged again, the bulge clearly visible in her neck. Grasping her head with both hands, Diane hammered her throat like the mouthpussy it was. She hated disgusting sluts like Chelsea. Chelsea wiggled and tried to pull away but couldn’t escape her steel grip in her hair. The little plastic cock was a pink blur as it was pounded harder and harder down her convulsing throat, little flecks of spittle flying up into the air, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Holy shit.” The guys couldn’t believe what they were witnessing. Some of them felt their cocks hardening again, the brutal fuck arousing them from their stupor. Diane was really working the slut.

Sloppy wet squelching sounds filled the room as Chelsea’s throat pleasured a cock that wasn’t even real. She felt miserable, the hard plastic hurt her so much as it punched in and out of the entrance of her throat, it was worse than a real cock. At least a real cock was more flexible, and not so long! The head was by far the worse part, it felt to Chelsea like she was swallowing a tennis ball. She stared up at Diane’s clothed crotch and wept, her saliva leaking out around her tightly wrapped lips.