Chapter 4: Hole breaking 1
The cool, heavy weight of the obsidian plug sat deep inside Zatanna, a constant, unyielding presence that stretched her inner walls just enough to be undeniable. Bruce’s thumb pressed firmly against her perineum, massaging the sensitive ridge of flesh between her stuffed hole and her aching, swollen clit. His other hand was busy, the pad of his index finger tracing lazy, wet circles around her outer labia, slicking through her arousal, occasionally dipping dangerously close to her stretched entrance but never breaching it. The sensation was maddening – the internal fullness, the external pressure, the slick teasing just outside her most sensitive spots.
He loved this. Loved the slow, deliberate unfurling of her. Loved the way her breath hitched every time his finger skirted her opening, loved the soft whimpers that escaped her lips when he pressed harder on her perineum, making her clench instinctively around the smooth stone plug.
"Tell me," Bruce murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in the charged air. His eyes, dark and intense, flicked towards the camera mounted beside them, its red light a steady, silent witness. "Tell the lens what you feel. What you want." His fingertip traced her slick folds again, gathering moisture. "Be explicit."
Zatanna’s gaze, hazy with need, shifted towards the camera lens. It felt strange, intimate yet detached, confessing to an unblinking eye. But Bruce wanted it. And in this shadowed sanctuary, bound and exposed, his desire was her command. Her voice, when it came, was softer than usual, husky with arousal, yet clear.
"It feels… heavy," she began, her hips shifting minutely against the leather restraints, seeking more friction, finding only Bruce’s controlling touch. "Deep inside. Smooth and cool… but it warms up fast. From me." She swallowed, feeling the plug shift slightly as Bruce’s thumb pressed her perineum again, eliciting a gasp. "He… Bruce… he’s working me open. Slowly. So slowly it’s torture." Her eyes drifted shut for a second, savoring the dual sensations – the internal pressure, the external kneading. "His finger… god, his fingertip… it’s tracing my cunt lips. Making me wetter. So wet I can feel it dripping down my thighs." She opened her eyes, locking onto the camera lens, her expression a mixture of vulnerability and raw hunger. "He’s teasing my hole. The one stuffed full. Making it twitch around the plug. Making it want more."
Bruce’s finger dipped lower, tracing the very rim of her stretched entrance where the obsidian met her slick, pink flesh. The contact was feather-light, electrifying. Zatanna cried out, her back arching off the chair.
"Fuck! Right there! He’s rimming my cunt with his fingertip," she gasped, her voice gaining intensity. "Just… just brushing the edge. Where I’m stretched tight around the plug. Making my hole milk… milk nothing. Milk the air. It wants his fingers inside. Wants to be stretched wider." She moaned, long and low, as Bruce applied firmer pressure with his thumb on her perineum while simultaneously pressing the pad of his finger firmly against her rim, not entering, just asserting pressure. "Oh god… yes… like that. He’s helping me clench. Making my pussy spasm around it. Feel it… feel how tight I grip that smooth stone? How much I want it… and how much I want more?"
Bruce watched her raptly, his own arousal a palpable force. "What do you want, beloved?" he prompted, his voice rough. His finger continued its maddening dance around her entrance, slicking her juices over her swollen outer lips, circling her clit near but never touching it. The denial was exquisite agony.
"I want…" Zatanna panted, her gaze fixed on the camera, confessing her deepest, most visceral desires into its unfeeling glass eye. "I want to be opened. Slowly. Deliberately. The way he’s doing it now." Her hips lifted, pushing her cunt against his teasing hand. "I want to feel full. Stuffed. Like my hole is being claimed, inch by inch." She whimpered as Bruce’s thumb massaged her perineum in slow circles, the pressure radiating deep into her core, making her inner muscles flutter wildly around the plug. "I want to feel every bit of stretch… savour it… while my clit…" Her eyes flickered down briefly to the prominent, flushed nub standing proud and ignored. "...while my clit is swollen and throbbing and untouched. Begging."
Bruce groaned softly, a sound of pure lust. He leaned closer, his breath warm on her damp skin. "Begging for what?" His fingertip pressed harder against her rim, a promise without fulfillment.
"Begging for attention," she confessed, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for the camera, yet echoing in the silent room. "Begging to be sucked again. Pumped bigger. Begging to be rubbed raw while my cunt is stretched wide open." She pushed her hips down against his hand, desperate for more pressure, more friction, anything. "I want to feel stuffed… stuffed deep… while my clit aches. I want that contrast… the fullness inside… the desperate emptiness here." Her bound hands clenched. "I want him to take his slow time… stretching me… filling me… the way he knows drives me wild. The way that makes me feel… owned."
"Good girl," Bruce breathed, the praise washing over her like warm honey. His thumb pressed firmly into her perineum, holding the pressure, while his fingertip finally, finally, breached her. Not deep. Just the very tip, sliding easily through her slickness, pressing against the yielding flesh beside the solid plug. It wasn't penetration; it was invasion at the threshold. A claiming of the stretched rim itself.
Zatanna screamed, her body convulsing against the restraints. The sensation was overwhelming – the deep, constant pressure of the plug, the intense massage on her perineum, the shocking intrusion of his fingertip pressing beside it, stretching her outer ring even further. Her cunt clenched violently, milking the plug, trying to draw his finger deeper. Wetness gushed, soaking his hand, dripping onto the leather beneath her.
"Fuck! Oh fuck, Bruce!" she sobbed, her head thrashing back. "Yes! Like that! Stretch me! Open me! Make my hole take it!" Her hips bucked wildly, seeking more of that maddening pressure, that stretch. "Feel how wet? Feel how my greedy cunt grips you? Grips the plug? It wants more! Needs more! Please… stretch me wider!"
Bruce held her there, suspended on the knife-edge of sensation. His fingertip pressed relentlessly against her stretched entrance beside the plug, his thumb a firm anchor on her perineum. He watched her unravel, her face a mask of ecstatic torment, her bound body straining, her confession to the camera hanging raw and exposed in the air. Her swollen clit pulsed, untouched, a furious, neglected heartbeat. She was close. So close. He could feel the tremors building in her thighs, the frantic clenching around the plug.
But he didn't push her over. Not yet. He savored the slow burn, the exquisite torture of her desperate begging, the visible proof of her surrender written across her sweat-slicked skin and in the frantic pulse between her legs. He held her on the precipice, letting the hunger build, letting the need for release become a palpable, trembling thing in the shadowed air of their sanctuary. His eyes, dark and possessive, never left hers. The slow stretching was far from over.
Bruce’s fingertip withdrew from her stretched rim, leaving a cool emptiness that made Zatanna whimper. His thumb, however, remained a firm, anchoring pressure on her perineum, radiating heat deep into her core. "Shhh," he murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated against her damp skin as he leaned closer. "Sweetly now. Ask nicely."
His free hand settled warm on her lower belly, pressing down gently, holding her pelvis steady against the leather seat. His other hand, slick with her arousal, gripped the flared base of the obsidian plug firmly. He began to rotate it. Slowly. Deliberately. The smooth, cool stone turned inside her, grinding against her inner walls with exquisite precision. He angled it upwards, seeking the thickened ridge deep within her front wall. Finding it.
"Oh!" Zatanna gasped, her breath catching sharply. Her hips jerked instinctively, but Bruce’s hand on her belly held her down. "Bruce… please…" Her voice was a breathy whisper, stripped of its earlier scream, thick with desperate need. "Keep… keep turning it… right there… please?" She felt the plug press firmly against that sensitive spot, sending electric jolts radiating through her pelvis. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around the intrusion, a frantic, involuntary clenching. "Feels… feels so deep… hitting me… hitting me just right."
"Good girl," Bruce breathed, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his jaw. He maintained the pressure, rotating the plug in slow, grinding circles directly against her G-spot. He watched her face, the flutter of her eyelids, the parted lips gasping for air. "Feel how your greedy cunt adjusts? How it grips?" He leaned lower still, his breath hot on her exposed slit. "Holding you right there, beloved. On the edge."
His lips brushed her slick folds. Not near her throbbing clit, but lower, kissing the stretched, glistening flesh around the plug’s base. He tasted her deeply, his tongue tracing the swollen rim where her body met the obsidian. The wet, intimate sound echoed softly in the dungeon. Zatanna moaned, a low, trembling sound. Her hips strained upwards, seeking more contact, but Bruce held her pinned, his tongue exploring her stretched entrance, savoring her flavor, keeping the pressure constant on her G-spot.
"Bruce…" she whimpered, her voice trembling, sweat beading on her brow. "Don’t stop… please don’t stop… it’s so good… I’m so close…" Her swollen clit, utterly ignored, pulsed violently, a furious, neglected heartbeat. She could feel it twitching, the engorged flesh throbbing with every grind of the plug inside her. "Feels… feels like it’s swelling… oh god…"
Bruce lifted his head, his lips glistening. His eyes, dark and intense, flicked to her clit. It was indeed visibly twitching, the flushed nub seeming even more prominent against her slick folds, straining beneath its hood. "Hold," he commanded softly, releasing the plug’s base. He reached for the digital calipers, their chrome jaws cool in the candlelight. With meticulous care, he spread her hood gently with his thumb and forefinger, exposing the engorged bud fully. The cold metal touched the sides, measuring the new width.
"Further edema," he murmured, his voice thick with clinical fascination and raw lust. The tablet screen updated instantly, the 3D model rendering her clit larger, pulsing faintly. He traced the screen, then her actual flesh. "Responding beautifully. Growing greedier." He set the calipers aside. "Only a little more now. Just enough to ache."
He returned his hand to the plug’s base. His thumb resumed its firm massage on her perineum. He resumed the slow, grinding rotations deep inside her, pressing relentlessly against her G-spot. Zatanna whimpered, her body trembling violently on the precipice. Her hole clenched rhythmically around the plug, milking it, accepting its presence fully now, warmed by her own heat and slickness. Drool escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a wet path down her jaw. She was slick everywhere, dripping onto the leather beneath her thighs.
"Ready?" Bruce asked, his voice a low growl vibrating against her skin. His free hand moved towards the low table, bypassing the gleaming pumps. His fingers closed around the smooth, polished curve of the next toy – slightly thicker, longer, made of cool, dark silicone. Its flared base was wider. "Ready to stretch wider, beloved? To take more?" He brought the tip close, slicking it generously with her copious wetness, letting it rest against her stretched rim beside the obsidian plug. "Beg for it. Sweetly."
Zatanna’s eyes locked onto the new toy, then back to Bruce’s intense gaze. Her breath hitched. "Please," she whispered, her voice raw with need but soft, pleading. "Please stretch me wider, Bruce. Fill me deeper. Make my hole take it… take this bigger toy…" She pushed her hips down minutely, feeling the cool silicone press against her sensitized rim. "I’m ready… so ready… please… open me more?" Her swollen clit throbbed, a furious counterpoint to the deep, grinding pressure inside her. Bruce’s thumb pressed harder on her perineum, holding her suspended, aching, perfectly primed.
Bruce’s thumb pressed harder on her perineum, holding her suspended, aching, perfectly primed. The cool silicone tip of the larger toy nudged insistently against her stretched rim, slick with her own desperate wetness. "Beg sweeter," he commanded, his voice rough velvet against her ear, the grinding pressure inside her never relenting.
"Please," Zatanna gasped, the word soft, broken, utterly surrendered. "Please, Bruce... stretch my greedy hole wider." Her hips lifted a fraction, pressing her slick cunt against the cool intrusion. "Make me take it... slowly... feel every inch." Tears welled, blurring the dungeon shadows. "I need to be fuller... stuffed deeper...yours."
He rewarded her with a low groan, a sound of pure possession. The obsidian plug slid free with a wet, sucking pop, leaving her gaping entrance clenching violently around sudden emptiness. Cool dungeon air kissed her exposed, swollen flesh. Bruce lifted the slick obsidian plug, its dark surface gleaming under the candlelight, coated thickly in her arousal. He brought it to his lips, his tongue sliding slowly, deliberately, along its length, tasting her deeply, savoring the tangy-sweet evidence of her need. "Mine," he rasped, his eyes locked on hers, burning with dark fire.
He discarded the obsidian plug. The larger silicone toy, already generously coated, replaced it instantly. Its thicker tip pressed firmly against her loosened, wet ring. Bruce applied relentless, controlled pressure. Zatanna cried out, a sharp sound of shock and intense sensation as her body yielded, the thick silicone head breaching her entrance. The stretch was immediate, profound, a hot, burning fullness that stole her breath. "Ohgod... yes... yes..." she whimpered, her bound hands clenching, her spine arching.
"Feel it," Bruce growled, pushing deeper, millimeter by agonizing millimeter. His thumb remained a firm anchor on her perineum, intensifying the deep, radiating pressure. "Feel your greedy cunt stretching... opening... taking what I give it." He paused, letting her trembling body adjust to the new, demanding girth buried deep within her. Her inner walls fluttered wildly, gripping the silicone shaft. "So fucking tight... even stretched... milking it already."
He resumed the slow invasion, sinking the thick toy deeper, filling her impossibly fuller. Zatanna moaned, a continuous, desperate sound. Her swollen clit throbbed violently, a furious, neglected ache radiating through her pelvis. Bruce watched her face, the play of ecstasy and torment, the sweat slicking her temples. He pushed the toy fully home, its wider flared base settling snugly against her stretched entrance. The fullness was immense, overwhelming. Her hole pulsed rhythmically around the thick intrusion.
"Now," Bruce murmured, his voice dropping to a predatory whisper. He released her perineum only to retrieve a small, sterile case from the table. Inside lay a slender syringe filled with a clear, viscous fluid. He snapped the cap off the needle, its point gleaming wickedly sharp. "Look." He held the syringe near her straining clit. "This will keep it swollen. Hard. Begging. For hours." His free hand gently pulled back her hood, fully exposing the engorged, flushed bud. "Sterile. Safe. But it will ache... beautifully."
Panic flickered briefly in Zatanna’s eyes, swallowed instantly by a wave of deeper, darker arousal. "Do it," she breathed, her voice trembling. "Inject it... make it stay big... make it hurt with need... please..."
Bruce positioned the needle tip against the very base of her clit, where the hood met the shaft. A quick, precise prick. Zatanna gasped, more from shock than pain. He depressed the plunger slowly, steadily. A cool flood spread beneath her skin, a strange pressure blooming within the engorged flesh. He withdrew the needle, pressing a sterile pad briefly against the tiny puncture.
The effect was almost instantaneous. A deep, insistent throb pulsed through her clit, intensifying the already fierce ache. It felt heavier, denser, impossibly sensitive. The neglected need sharpened into a razor's edge. Bruce resumed grinding the thick silicone toy deep inside her, pressing relentlessly against her G-spot. His thumb found her perineum again, pressing hard. The dual assault – the deep, stretching fullness and the intense pressure radiating from his thumb – combined with the sudden, fierce ache radiating from her injected clit, shattered her control.
Zatanna’s body convulsed. A high, keening cry tore from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, sudden and overwhelming. Her cunt clamped down violently on the thick toy buried inside her, milking it in frantic, rhythmic spasms. Wetness gushed, soaking Bruce’s hand, dripping freely onto the leather beneath her thighs. Her swollen clit pulsed furiously, untouched, the injected aphrodisiac amplifying every nerve-ending scream.
"Reaction!" Bruce demanded, his voice harsh, commanding, even as her body bucked and trembled under the relentless waves of release. His hands held her hips pinned, forcing her to take the grinding pressure deep inside her spasming cunt. "Tell me! What does it feel like? The stretch? The ache?"
"Full!" she screamed, her voice raw, tears streaming freely. "So full... stretching... ohgod... stretching open!" Her hips jerked helplessly against his grip. "The ache... deep... deep inside... and my clit... fuck... it’s burning... throbbing... huge!" She gasped, another wave crashing over her, making her clench impossibly tighter around the toy. "Feels... feels like it’s swelling... hotter... begging... begging!" Her head thrashed back, her bound body shuddering through the sweet, relentless cresting of sensation, utterly pinned, utterly owned, taking only what he gave her. The thick toy remained buried deep, a constant, stretching presence anchoring her climax. Her injected clit pulsed like a furious, neglected heart against the cool air. Bruce watched, rapt, his own breath ragged, the momentum building towards the next inevitable demand.
Bruce watched, rapt, his own breath ragged, the momentum building towards the next inevitable demand. Zatanna shuddered violently beneath his hands, waves of aftershocks making her cunt pulse and flutter around the thick silicone plug still buried deep inside her. Sweat slicked her skin, mingling with tears tracking down her temples, her bound body trembling as the fierce ache from her injected clit radiated through her pelvis, sharp and unyielding even as the climax subsided.
He held her hips steady, feeling the powerful clenching gradually ease, the frantic spasms softening into tired tremors. Her eyes were closed, lashes damp, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew the thick silicone toy. It slid free with a wet, sucking sound, her stretched entrance gaping slightly, glistening and reddened, clenching rhythmically around sudden, profound emptiness. Cool air kissed her sensitized flesh, making her whimper.
Bruce discarded the toy silently. He reached for a soft, warm towel soaked in cleansing solution, wringing it out slightly. His movements were unhurried, precise. He gently wiped the sweat from her brow, the damp cloth moving tenderly across her flushed cheeks, catching the tear tracks. He blotted the slick mess between her splayed thighs, cleaning her swollen outer lips, the tender flesh around her stretched entrance, with meticulous care. His touch was unexpectedly soft against her hypersensitive skin, especially around the engorged, throbbing peak of her clit where the injection burned.
"Shhh," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, stripped of its earlier harsh command. He leaned in close, his lips brushing her temple, then her damp eyelid, tasting the salt. "So beautiful, Zee." His large hand cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "You took it all. Exactly as I asked." He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, each touch feather-light. "Every stretch. Every ache. You were perfect."
Her eyes fluttered open, dark and vulnerable, searching his face. The raw intensity, the possessive fire, was still there, banked now but undeniable. Yet layered over it was something profoundly tender, a warmth that seeped into her exhausted bones. "Bruce..." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, rough from screaming.
He silenced her with his mouth, capturing her lips in a kiss that was deep and slow and achingly gentle. It wasn't demanding; it was claiming in a different way, a reaffirmation. His tongue explored hers softly, tasting her breath, sharing the space between them. He kissed her with a reverence that felt like coming home after a brutal storm. He pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "You did so well, beloved," he murmured against her lips, the words warm puffs of air. "So well. My strong, perfect wife." His hand slid down, settling protectively over her lower belly, where their child grew beneath the sweat-slicked skin, a silent anchor. "My good girl."
Zatanna melted into the tenderness, a soft sob escaping her. She nuzzled against his jaw, her bound hands flexing uselessly, yearning to touch him. The fierce ache in her clit, the lingering stretch deep inside, the echoes of overwhelming sensation – they were still present, a hum beneath her skin. But cradled in his unexpected softness, they transformed. They were no longer just torments, but proofs of her surrender, of trust given and held. She felt cherished, even in her utter exposure, her complete vulnerability. His thumb traced slow circles over her belly, his other hand still cradling her face, a quiet sanctuary built in the shadows of the dungeon. The red light of the camera blinked on, silently witnessing this fragile, profound intimacy forged in the fires of raw desire. The leather beneath her was cool now where his cleansing cloth had passed, the scent of her arousal mingling with the clean, damp smell of the towel. Bruce shifted slightly, reaching for a carafe of chilled water on the low table. He poured a small amount into a cup, bringing it to her lips. "Drink," he instructed softly, his voice still carrying that underlying tenderness. "Slowly." She sipped gratefully, the cool water soothing her raw throat, her eyes never leaving his. He held the cup for her, patient, attentive.