Bubala reached down towards Clara. "No-o-o" She moaned, but was too slow to evade his grasp. She put her arms out to ward him off, then found herself once again wrapped in flesh from hip to neck. Her arms sticking ridiculously out of the top of his fist on either side of her head.
He didn't bring her up to his face again, instead, he walked around the bed. Grabbing the pillow, he set it against the headboard and fluffed it.
Turning around, he sat on the bed. Clara heard a drawer open. There was a rummaging sound, then it closed. Clara couldn't see what he had gotten, she was turned in the wrong direction. But she bet that whatever it was, she wouldn't like it.
Bubala turned so he was lying on his back, his head on the pillow looking down his body. Bringing his other hand to his mouth, Clara could see what he held in it.
Why, it was an ordinary squeeze tube, like she would buy at the drug store! It even had writing on it. The letters were even ordinary letters, though she couldn't read what they said. Then it was Bubala who was normal sized, after all. She had been shrunken somehow!
Grabbing the cap between his teeth, he unscrewed it and brought the tip towards Clara. Opening all but his thumb and index finger, he squeezed a glob from the tube onto her chest. Clara winced at the touch of the cold paste. Bringing the tube back up to his mouth, he screwed the top back on and dropped it in the drawer.
Using his index finger, he smeared the gooey stuff over the front of Clara's body. Despite the impossibility of escape, she struggled desperatly. The goo felt like a cross between hand lotion and Vaseline. He didn't even rub it in, he just smeared it around till it covered her. Then he closed his fist again.
Wriggling his fingers around, he smeared the gunk around in his fist as he brought it in a sweeping motion down over his body. Stopping at his side, he hooked his thumb under his waistband and pulled his shorts off. After he had slid them off, he layed his legs back down, and held Clara over his hips, pausing, as if to guage her reactions.
Clara had never seen a man naked before. She found herself staring at him. He had a tuft of hair on his groin, but it wasn't neatly trimmed, like hers had been. A large, fat worm-like thing lay against his thigh. Below it, something hung down. It looked like a bag of skin with two large balls in it, The whole thing was covered with stringy hair. The worm-thing pulsed slightly. Was it getting bigger? It moved slightly with each pulse, turning slowly around, as if trying to face the man. She felt a crawling sensation on the back of her neck. looking up, she saw the man leering at her, as if he was enjoying this immensely.
Looking back at the worm-thing, she noticed it was getting bigger. Suddenly, it was getting closer as well, as the man brought his fist, and her, down towards it.
Desperately, Clara tried to get her arms down to push herself away, but his grip was too tight.
Bubala turned his fist so that Clara was now face down, looking down at tip of the worm-thing.
He held his fist on top of it, for a moment, then slid his fingertips around the side. Clara dropped onto the thing, then was pressed into it as Bubala's hand tightened.
He moved up the shaft, and it slid down into his fist. When it was almost out, he reversed direction. It slid back up into his fist, up her belly towards her head. Clara felt her heart pounding in fear. As it moved up under her breasts they were pushed up, then it slid over them. She felt the air being squeezed out of her lungs and the tip of it emerged from under her breasts. As it came up under her chin, her head was pressed back, into the bend of his finger. She tried to turn her head, but his finger cradled it, holding her face foreward. The thing slid up and her face was pressed against it as it ground it's way up.
Eventually, it stopped. She could feel his blood pulsing throughout the veins that covered it, feel it growing harder, larger. Then he brought it back down. Clara winced as it dragged her breasts downwards too, grinding them between it and her ribcage. As soon as the pressure was relived, she took a deep breath. Her relief was short lived, however, as once it had reached her hips, it started up again, this time faster, then again, faster still!
The air was forced out of her lungs as she was squeezed mercilessly and it ground against her face. Again and again she was thrust up and down the hardening shaft. It was getting hotter, and he squeezing her more with each thrust. Soon he was twisting his hand in addition to the up and down grinding. Her breasts stung from all the twisting and mashing. Her whole body hurt!
She gasped to catch her breath before she finally learned to time her breathing with his rhythm "Go with the flow" Is this what they meant? It helped her to breath, but it didn't make it the least bit enjoyable!
Just as she though she was going to pass out he stopped. He stopped! She opened her mouth to take a breath when suddenly she was crushed in a tremendous grip. His contracting fingers forced her face down against the tip, which had stopped on her breasts. Then a different kind of pressure ran up the shaft itself. Clara could feel it race up the length of her body like a wave, then it exploded out against her face. A gush of hot, thick fluid forced its way into her nose, her mouth and her throat. It was immediately followed by another, than another, and another! It was like being hit with the pressure from a fire hose. Again and again and again it burst forth into her mouth.
Gagging Clara desperatly held her windpipe closed against the onslaught. wondering how long it was going to last. Even if it did stop, would he loosen his grip enough so she could wipe it away? Her face was already buried up to her ears! It was salty. It tasted like raw eggs. And Clara was drowning in it.
Then, finally, the gushes dwindled to a trickle. He was still pumping, but even the pulses were slowing. If only she could hold out. She wished she had known to hold her breath before the air had been forced out. If she could hold it against that massive, crushing pressure that is.
finally, he relaxed. He raised his hand and opened it. Frantically, Clara brushed the goo from her face. Swallowing what she couldn't cough out of her throat, she inhaled deeply, then broke into another fit of coughing. She continued to gasp, retch and cough for awhile, then finally regained control of her breathing.
"What the hell were you doing?!" she shouted at him, ignoring the danger. "You could have killed me!"
"Sink or swim." He said nonchalantly, handing her a small cloth, "It can be easy or hard. Your choice." she grabbed the cloth, and used to wipe as much off of her as she could.
When she had cleaned herself as best she could, she handed back the towel, He took it and dropped it beside the bed. Then, rolling off, he once again placed her on the matteress and held his hand at ready, in case she ran.
But Clara had learned her lesson. She slid off his hand and waited there. Satisfied, he straightened up and pulled out what looked like a cell phone and pushed a few numbers.
What was he doing, calling friends? Clara froze, She was definatly not ready to have to handle more men playing with her!
He stopped dialing and pointed the "antenna" at her. He pushed another button and Clara went rigid. Her entire body tingled. Then she passed out.
She awoke on a normal feeling mattress, not the pillow thing. Thank God it's over! she thought, then opened her eyes. There, on the ceiling above her she saw, herself? Yes, it was definitely her, lying naked, spread eagle on a sheet.
Quickly she tried to get up. Her hands were tied! So were her feet. She had been tied to the four massive bedposts. So the nightmare wasn't over. She looked around for Bubala, but she couldn't see him. Had he tied her up and just left her there? Was this part of her "obedience training"? She was normal sized, or at least almost so.
She noticed that she had been washed, too. her skin felt clean, as far as she could tell without being able to actually touch it. The stink of sweat, musk, and goo were gone, anyway.
The unmistakable click of a door latch heralded his return. "Let's see if your ready to play nice." he said.
He walked to the foot of the bed. Grabbing her by the armpits, he pulled her towards him. Her neck strained as her head was suspended over the end of the bed. The sinews of her neck standing out.
He was wearing different shorts this time. As she forced herself to look upwards, Clara could see the silhouette of his thing bobbling in his shorts above her. As it got bigger, it began to stick out from his unnaturally tall body.
Now what? She thought.
Reaching into the front of his waistband, Bubala untied the draw string, and pulled the waistband out, away from his body. Letting go, his shorts fell to the floor. Clara's eyes widened in fear. Silently, she mouthed: "No..."
Released from it's cloth restraint, Bubala's thing looked as if it stuck eight inches straight out from his groin.
Reaching over to the left bedpost, he loosened the knot in the cloth and raised the loop up the post, then tightened it again just under the top knob. As he did, Clara's arm was pulled up with it. Then he went to the other bedpost and did the same thing with the other cloth.
Clara head and shoulders were now hanging, suspended between the two posts. Unable to hold her head any longer she let it hang down. Her arms started aching from the strain.
Bubala moved to stand in front of her, and Clara found herself staring straight at his crotch.
Despite her naivety, she suddenly realized what he was about to do.
"Oh, please, You wouldn't, not that..." She pleaded.
His response was to place his hands on her cheeks. Pushing inwards with his thumbs, he forced her mouth open. Clara closed her eyes and started to cry This isn't happening. She begged.
"Relax, and extend your throat." Bubala commanded. "And I better not feel any teeth, either!"
Relax her throat? Her THROAT?
Bubala moved his hips towards her. Clara felt the tip of his thing slide between her lips, into her mouth. Desperately she tried to push it out with her tongue, but it kept coming. It hit the back of her throat and she gagged. "I said relax!" He ordered, sternly, pulling back slightly.
"Hou?" Clara tried to ask. "I bou uh-er-haa!" It was like trying to answer a dentist's questions while he had his hand in her mouth.
Clara wished it was the dentist's hand!
"You dunno nuthin', do you? he said, and pulled out completely.
"No! I don't! I've never been with a man!" She stated, perhaps a bit too harsh.
Oh, so you don't think I'm a man, huh?"
"That's not wha-"
Her explanation was interrupted as he grabbed her jaw in one hand and stuck the middle fingers of the other down her throat, hooking his fingertips on the back of her tongue.
Clara gagged furiously as he pulled her and jaw tongue forewards and out. "Stop that!" He commanded roughly. "Hold your gaging, I mean it!"
Clara managed to keep herself from gagging, barely, but it wasn't easy.
He resumed his pulling. Then, with a gurgling noise, she felt air rush into her esophagus.
"That's better, now, hold it like that." He told her, only slightly less harsh, and placed his hands on her cheeks again.
Clara was concentrating on holding her esophagus open, when he rammed himself into her again. He entered her mouth so fast she had no time to react. Pushing hard, he forced it down her throat!
Clara's back arched as she gagged harder than ever, but to no avail, he was to strong, Her eyes were squeezed shut as tears ran up her forehead. Still he kept pushing, repeatedly jamming his hips forewards, forcing himself down the length of her neck with each brutal jerk, until her face was buried in his crotch,
Once he was all the way in, he paused. "That's better." He said approvingly."
Better? BETTER?! Clara couldn't breath! She could feel him, pulsing inside her neck. All the way down to her collarbone!
Then he pulled back. But by now, Clara knew better. That this wasn't over.
Sure enough, just as soon as the tip of him was back in her mouth he forced it back down her into her throat. Again, she gagged, despite all her efforts not to. If only he wasn't so rough, maybe she could manage this.
"Remember, no teeth!" Bubala said, "Or else i'll pull them out too. Permanently!" Once he was all the way in again, he moved his hands from her cheeks to her armpits, he started thrusting in earnest.
Clara was in agony! As he forced himself in and out, her entire body wrenched itself about in a series of violent convulsions. She felt her throat stretching to it's limits as he he rammed himself up and down inside of her neck. It felt like he was trying to ram himself all the way down into her belly, again, and again, and again. Harder and more violent each time
Clara felt like she was going to vomit. Desperately, she tried to suppress it, she didn't want her stomach emptying itself while this was going on! She'd end up flushing it all into her lungs!
Grabbing the back of her head with both hands, Bubala let out a huge groan, and yanked her head into his crotch. As he pressed her face hard against himself she felt him pumping hot, gooey stuff into her. Wave after wave traveled down her neck, gushing out into her.
"Oohh, YEEEESS-S-S-S!" He shouted.
Finally, it stopped.
He pulled himself out, slowly. Instantly, she inhaled as fast and deep as she could. She didn't even bother trying to swallow, he had gone so deep there was no way she could have choked on it. She gulped in air hungrilly.
As soon as her lungs were satisfied, she convulsed violently. Bile shot out of her mouth, ran up her nose and into her eyes and hair. It stung furiously, but she didn't stop. Long after her guts were empty she continued. She didn't even hear him cuss, or feel him slap her. For the first time in her life, it actually felt good to vomit!