Chapter 5: Cherry Picking 1
Zatanna floated in the trembling aftermath, the deep throb in her clit a constant, heated counterpoint to the lingering stretch between her legs. Bruce’s tenderness, the gentle washing, the water offered so carefully – they’d woven a fragile thread of calm through the raw edges of sensation. His large hand remained warm and heavy on her lower belly, a grounding anchor over their child. She leaned her head against the cool leather of the chair back, breathing deeply, her sweat-dampened skin prickling slightly in the dungeon’s chill air. The red camera light blinked, a patient, unblinking eye.
Bruce moved with quiet purpose. The clatter of the discarded syringe faded as he retrieved a new piece of equipment from the low table. Glass glinted under the dim chandelier, cold and precise. It was a small, hand-held pump, surprisingly elegant – a clear glass cylinder capped with a soft, medical-grade silicone cup. He held it up, letting her see the mechanism: a smooth plunger attached to a calibrated dial.
"Look," his voice was low, calm, but the intensity in his eyes hadn’t faded. It had merely shifted focus. "This is for you now. To enhance the response."
Zatanna’s gaze flicked from the device to his face, a flicker of apprehension quickly swallowed by a fresh pulse of deep, needy arousal that resonated in her injected clit. "You’re… you’re going to pump it?" Her voice was still rough.
"Slowly," Bruce affirmed, setting the pump down momentarily. His fingers found the flushed, engorged nub again, handling it with a reverence that belied the clinical instrument he’d just shown. His thumb and forefinger gently rolled the swollen flesh, assessing its new density, its hypersensitive surface. She hissed, her hips lifting involuntarily. "The injection has increased vascularity," he murmured, almost to himself, though his eyes held hers. "Blood flow is significantly elevated. Capillaries engorged. Perfect." His touch shifted, carefully pulling back her hood again, fully exposing the weeping, glistening tip to the cool air. The contrast was exquisite torture. "The pump will increase that engorgement. Steadily. Gently. Draw more blood into the tissues. Make it fuller. Hotter. Needier." He traced the rim of the silicone cup with a finger slicked from her wetness. "It will ache beautifully, beloved. A deep, persistent ache that will build alongside your arousal." He positioned the cup over her throbbing clit, its cool rim a shock against the overheated flesh. "Ready?"
It wasn't really a question. It was a command wrapped in velvet. She nodded, a jerky movement, her eyes wide and fixed on the device. "Yes. Please. Make it ache."
Bruce depressed the plunger slightly. A soft hiss of air escaped. The silicone cup sealed itself against her mound, forming a tight vacuum over her entire clitoral structure – hood, shaft, and glans. The initial suction was firm, immediate. Zatanna gasped, her back arching sharply off the chair. It wasn't pain, not exactly. It was a profound pressure, an intense drawing sensation that centered entirely on the most sensitive part of her body.
"Oh! Fuck!" she cried out, her bound hands twisting against the restraints. The sensation was overwhelming. Deep, deep inside the swollen tissues, she could feel the increased pull, a magnetic throb pulling blood into the already engorged flesh. The ache bloomed instantly, radiating outwards, coiling in her lower belly.
"Easy," Bruce murmured, but his voice held a dark thrill. He rotated the dial minutely. Another soft hiss. The pressure increased. The tissues within the cup swelled further, visibly straining against the transparent glass. Her clit felt like it was being drawn out, expanded, its fiery sensitivity amplified tenfold by the vacuum and the aphrodisiac still burning in its core. "Watch," he commanded, turning her head gently but firmly towards the large monitor mounted beside them.
Zatanna’s gaze snapped to the screen. High-definition, unnervingly close. She saw herself. Saw her swollen, dark pink folds, glistening wet. Saw the clear glass cylinder sealed tight against her skin. And within it, impossibly large and flushed an angry red-purple, was her clit. It filled the cup. Veins stood out starkly beneath the stretched skin, pulsing visibly. The hood was taut, the glans engorged to a glistening, slick point. It looked alien, monstrously sensitive, utterly captive. She moaned, a long, low sound of horrified fascination and searing need.
"See how greedy it is?" Bruce’s voice was a rough purr in her ear. His hand rested on the pump, maintaining the pressure, his thumb hovering near the dial. "See how it swells? How it wants this?" On the screen, the trapped flesh pulsed again, a visible throb under the relentless suction. "It’s like a little heart... a desperate, swollen little heart begging for more."
"God... Bruce..." Zatanna whimpered, unable to look away from the magnified image of her own tortured pleasure center. The ache was deepening, becoming a heavy, insistent throb that seemed to vibrate through her entire pelvis. Her neglected cunt clenched rhythmically around nothing, echoing the desperate pulse trapped under glass. "It aches... so deep... fuck... it’s pulling... pulling me apart..."
"Do you want it harder?" His thumb brushed the dial. "Want me to make it swell bigger? Make the ache sharper?"
She shook her head frantically, then nodded, conflicting impulses warring. "No... yes... I don't... I can't..." The conflicting sensations – the deep, spreading ache in her clit, the emptiness in her cunt, the echo of the plug’s stretch – were tangling into a web of unbearable need. "It hurts... it feels too much... but... please..." Her voice broke. "Don't stop."
"Good girl," he praised, the words sparking another pulse of heat beneath the glass. "Taking it so well. Enduring the ache." He didn’t turn the dial. He held it steady. The pressure remained constant, unyielding. The ache plateaued into a heavy, persistent thrum. Her clit felt impossibly full, stretched tight within its own skin, hypersensitive to the slightest vibration, the cool air on the glass, even the beat of her own pulse. Bruce’s free hand drifted down, not to touch her cunt, but to the soft skin of her inner thigh, tracing patterns. "Tell me how it feels. Exactly."
Zatanna dragged her eyes from the monstrous, captivating image on the screen back to Bruce’s face. Tears of overwhelmed sensation welled. "It feels... trapped," she gasped. "Sucked tight... so full inside... like it’s gonna burst..." She swallowed. "The ache... it’s hot... deep... like a bruise being pressed... but good... so fucking good..." She shifted her hips, a tiny movement that sent fresh waves of sensation radiating from the pumped flesh. "My cunt is clenching... empty... wet... so wet... it wants... wants something... needs to be filled..." Her gaze flickered down towards his crotch, then back up, raw with pleading. "But this... my clit... it owns me right now... the ache... the pull..." She moaned again, the sound vibrating in her throat. "Feels like it’s the center of everything... swollen... huge...yours."
Bruce’s eyes darkened, satisfaction mingling with lust. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper. "It is mine. This swollen, aching little cunt-heart is mine. And I will keep it swollen. Keep it aching. Keep it begging." His thumb rested lightly on the pump’s dial again, a silent promise of more pressure to come. "Until you’re nothing but this ache. Until your greedy pussy drips for it. Until you come again… screaming… from this alone." He pulled back slightly, his gaze fixed on the obscenely engorged flesh under the glass, held in its constant, throbbing vacuum. "Patience, beloved. We’re just beginning to stretch." The deep, insistent throb pulsed on, a captive heartbeat in the silent dungeon. The red camera light watched it all.
The red camera light watched it all. Its unblinking eye captured the rhythmic pulse of her clit trapped under glass, the sheen of sweat on her pale skin, the desperate clench of her empty cunt. Bruce’s thumb stayed near the pump’s dial, a constant threat and promise, the vacuum maintaining its relentless pull deep into her engorged flesh. Zatanna whimpered, the ache a solid, throbbing weight anchoring her to the chair, to the sensation, to him.
"Bruce," she gasped, her voice cracking. "It's... consuming me. This ache." She tried to shift, seeking friction, finding only cool leather restraints. "Feels like my whole body is shrinking down... down to this." Her eyes darted towards the monitor, then fixed on the lens. The camera demanded attention. "You see?" she rasphed, forcing her chin up, meeting the glass eye. Saliva glistened at the corner of her mouth. "See how fucking swollen he's made it? How it throbs under there?"
Bruce watched her, his expression unreadable except for the intense focus burning in his eyes. His free hand slid down, fingers slick with her arousal from earlier, and traced the slick, puffy outer lips of her cunt. She jerked, a choked cry escaping as the contact sent fresh tremors through her sensitized core. "Fuck! Yesss..."
"He’s making it huge," Zatanna continued breathlessly to the camera, her voice thick with need. Bruce’s middle finger dipped lower, finding her entrance, slick and hot and clenching violently around nothing. He slid just the tip inside, no deeper, a maddening tease. She groaned, her hips rolling helplessly against his hand. "He's got this pump... sucking the blood into it, making it burn... ache... God, his finger..." She swallowed hard, a thin line of drool escaping her lips and tracing a path down her chin. "He’s fingering my cunt... just a little... while my clit gets sucked raw... It's too much... I can't... I'm gonna cum. I know it. When he really focuses on this swollen mess... when he touches it after... I'm gonna fucking explode just from my clit. Just... just from this deep, fucking ache."
Bruce withdrew his finger slowly, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. He held her gaze, then turned the pump dial a fraction counter-clockwise. The hiss was softer this time. The vacuum lessened, but only slightly. The engorgement remained vast, the trapped flesh a dark, glistening purple-red under the glass. "Show them," he murmured, his voice gravel.
He released the seal quickly. A soft pop echoed, followed immediately by Zatanna's sharp gasp. The vacuum broke. The swollen clitoral tissue, freed from the relentless pressure, began to shrink back. It was a visceral recoil. On the monitor, they both watched the impossibly engorged shaft and glans slowly, almost reluctantly, diminish. Veins that had stood out like cords receded. The angry colour faded towards a deep, flushed pink. But it remained vastly larger than its natural state, a plump, glistening nub protruding prominently from beneath its hood, slick with her arousal and the condensation from the cup. Still hypersensitive, still radiating a deep, echoing throb.
Bruce picked up the small tape measure from the table. Its cold metal edge made Zatanna flinch as he touched it lightly to her inner labia. The lips were still thick and puffy, flushed dark from the prolonged arousal and the aphrodisiac's lingering effects. He measured the gap between them, stretched wide by the engorgement. "Significant increase," he noted clinically, but his eyes were dark pools of heat. "Needs adjustment."
He peeled the existing tape from her sensitive flesh, the slight sting making her hiss. He selected a wider piece of the soft surgical tape. With precise, deliberate movements, he pulled her outer labia further apart, stretching the slick, swollen folds taut. He smoothed the new tape firmly into place, securing them in a wide, open display. Her cunt gaped obscenely, flushed inner lips and the tight furl of her entrance fully exposed, glistening wet, the plump, oversized clit perched above it like a jewel. The stretch was intense, a constant, low-level burn added to the deep throb.
Bruce leaned in close, his warm breath washing over her exposed flesh. He didn't hesitate. His lips, surprisingly soft, pressed a slow, deliberate kiss directly onto the hypersensitive, throbbing peak of her clit.
Zatanna screamed. It wasn't pain. It was an electric jolt of pure, unfiltered sensation that ripped through her core, arching her spine violently against the restraints. Her vision whited out for a second, her cunt pulsing violently around the emptiness. The kiss lingered, soft yet devastating, igniting every nerve ending screaming from the pump and the injection. When he pulled back, her entire body trembled uncontrollably, teetering on the razor's edge of an orgasm triggered solely by that kiss on her swollen, aching flesh. The air crackled with anticipation.
The scream echoed off the stone walls, raw and ragged, before dissolving into shuddering gasps. Zatanna’s body vibrated against the leather restraints, every muscle locked tight, suspended on the precipice Bruce’s kiss had flung her towards. Her vision swam, the dungeon’s shadows bleeding into streaks of grey. The deep, radiating ache in her clit, momentarily eclipsed by the searing contact of his lips, roared back with a vengeance, a throbbing counterpoint to the frantic clenching of her empty cunt. She felt impossibly open, impossibly exposed, the surgical tape pulling her labia wide, her swollen, hypersensitive clit pulsing visibly above the slick, gaping entrance.
Bruce watched her struggle, his expression unreadable granite softened only by the fierce heat in his eyes. He traced a single, deliberate fingertip along the stretched, sensitive inner flesh of her thigh, avoiding the storm center. The touch was feather-light, maddening. "Breathe, Zatanna," he commanded, his voice low and impossibly calm against the frantic drumming of her heart. "Hold it. Don’t fall yet." His fingertip dipped lower, skimming the outer edge of her taped-open folds, slick with her arousal. She whimpered, a high-pitched, desperate sound. "That edge," he murmured, almost to himself. "You’re balanced perfectly on it. Feel how deep the ache goes? How it resonates?"
"Fuck... Bruce... please..." Her voice was shredded, barely audible. Her hips jerked uselessly against the restraints. "It’s... it’s everywhere... the ache... deep inside... burning... my cunt... it’s clenching... needs... needs something... anything..." She dragged her gaze down, past the obscenely plump, dark-pink nub of her clit, past her gaping entrance, to the low table beside him. Tools gleamed dully under the chandelier’s weak light. Syringes. Tape. Lubricant. And an array of toys – smooth glass, polished steel, dark silicone. Her breath hitched.
Bruce followed her gaze. He straightened, the movement deliberate. He stepped towards the table, his shadow falling over her. He didn’t reach for anything immediately. Instead, he surveyed the instruments, his posture radiating absolute control. Then, he turned back to her, his gaze pinning her to the chair as effectively as the leather straps. "The pump achieved its purpose," he stated, his tone clinical yet layered with dark satisfaction. He gestured towards her exposed sex. "Look at it. Engorged beyond its natural state. Hypersensitive. Primed." His eyes locked onto hers. "The aphrodisiac ensures the ache persists. Deepens." He paused, letting the weight of her swollen need fill the silence. "It’s time for the next phase. Time for the next toy."
He moved closer, looming over her restrained form. His large hand cupped her jaw, forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his. The tenderness in the gesture warred fiercely with the ruthless intent in his gaze. "Pick it, Zatanna." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Look at them. Choose what you want next. What your body craves." His voice dropped, softening into something profound, dangerous. "Be unafraid. Choose freely. Because I love you. Because I will give you everything your greedy, aching flesh desires. Everything it needs."
Her breath shuddered out. Love and dominance, twisted together, flooded her veins hotter than the aphrodisiac. Her gaze darted frantically over the table. A thick, veined dildo. A smooth, curved glass wand. A set of graduated steel beads on a cord. A sinister-looking, dual-pronged vibrator. Her swollen clit gave a distinct, painful throb, a reminder of its altered, vulnerable state. It felt huge, alien, yet utterly central to her being. She licked dry lips. "The... the beads," she rasped, her voice trembling. "The steel ones. Please."
A flicker of approval crossed Bruce’s face. He picked up the strand of graduated steel spheres, cool and heavy in his hand. The largest was substantial, the smallest perhaps the width of his thumb. He held them up, letting the metal glint. "A good choice," he murmured. He dipped the beads into the open bottle of lubricant beside them, coating them thoroughly in the clear, viscous gel. The scent of sterile silicone filled the air. "These will stretch you differently," he explained, his voice regaining its detached precision even as his eyes burned. "Internally. Deeply. They’ll fill the emptiness your cunt is screaming for." He moved back between her splayed legs, his gaze fixed on her taped-open sex. "And they’ll provide a unique pressure... against the base of your clit." He touched the plump, protruding flesh lightly. "Against this newly enlarged, hypersensitive bundle of nerves." Her entire body jerked at the contact. "That pressure," he continued, his finger tracing the swollen shaft down towards where it met her body, "combined with the persistent ache... will trigger your next orgasm. A deeper one. A fuller one. One that originates from this stretched, engorged core and floods your entire pelvis." He positioned the tip of the smallest bead against her slick, clenching entrance. "Ready to be filled? Ready to cum from the inside out?" The cold metal pressed insistently. Zatanna whimpered, her hips lifting instinctively, offering herself completely. "Yes," she breathed, the word thick with desperate need. "Fill me. Stretch me. Make me cum... from my swollen clit... from my stretched hole... please, Bruce... fuck..." The cold steel sphere breached her, sliding slowly into her tight, welcoming heat.
The cold steel sphere breached her, sliding slowly into her tight, welcoming heat. Its smooth, lubricated surface pushed past resisting inner muscles, deeper than just her entrance. Zatanna’s gasp hitched, transforming into a low moan as the metal kissed the tender depths of her cunt. It felt impossibly thick, stretching her intimate walls in a new, profound way. Her hips lifted unconsciously, seeking more, the emptiness already protesting its partial filling.
Bruce held the strand taut. He applied steady, relentless pressure. She was tight, still, despite the earlier plug, despite her evident arousal. The snug friction was exquisite agony. "Take it," he commanded, his voice low gravel. His thumb circled her stretched outer rim, slick with lube and her juices. "Swallow the metal, Zatanna. Let it fill you."
Another inch. The coolness of it inside her heated core was a shocking contrast. Her inner muscles rippled, trying to accommodate the slow invasion. She whimpered, her breath catching in her throat. "Fuck... it's so deep... so thick... Bruce..." Her eyes fluttered shut, focusing entirely on the intense stretch radiating through her pelvis. Then, a pause. He stopped pushing. The sphere rested heavily inside her, a dense, unyielding presence. He looked down at her exposed sex, then up at her face, expression unreadable except for the dark heat.
"Want it?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual. His free hand drifted lower, fingertips barely brushing the tight pucker of her anus, slick with the same lube coating his fingers. She jerked violently, a shocked cry escaping her. "Want them here too? Stretching both holes while I play with this?" His thumb pressed hard against the base of her swollen clit, sending a lightning bolt of sensation through her that made her hips buck wildly against the restraints. "Answer."
Tears pricked her eyes. The thought was obscene, terrifying, yet it sent a fresh flood of wetness seeping around the single bead inside her. "No! God, no... please... just my cunt... fuck me with them... just my cunt..." she babbled, shaking her head frantically. "Too much... I can't... my ass... please, no..." The vulnerability was raw, laid bare.
Bruce hummed, a dark sound of acknowledgment. He removed his thumb from her ass, but kept it resting heavily on her mound, near her clit's base. "Focus on this hole, then," he instructed, his voice hardening. He pushed the strand forward again. Resistance. Then, a sudden, slick pop as the second, slightly larger sphere forced its way past her entrance. Zatanna cried out, her back arching off the leather. "Fucking cunt... swallows it... yes..." she panted, the stretch intensifying, the filling sensation glorious and overwhelming. He pushed relentlessly. A third sphere. Then a fourth. Each pop deeper, stretching her wider internally. She felt stuffed, impossibly full, the cool metal beads creating a unique pressure deep inside. Her core vibrated with the intensity.
He worked the strand slowly, pushing beads in, pulling them slightly out, then thrusting them back deeper. Each withdrawal was a tease, an emptiness quickly filled with rough, penetrating pressure. Her moans became continuous, punctuated by sharp gasps. Sweat slicked her skin. "Greedy fucking hole," Bruce observed clinically, watching her entrance stretch obscenely around the moving beads. "Milking them already. See how wet you are?" He gathered the slickness coating her stretched labia and outer folds on his fingers, holding it up for her to see the thick, pearly strands. "Dripping for steel."
He pushed the fifth bead home. It was significantly larger. Her body fought it, muscles clamping down, then yielding with a low groan ripped from her throat. She felt split open, filled to capacity. "Oh god... oh fuck... yes... stuff me... stuff my greedy cunt..." She was babbling now, lost in the sensation of deep, internal penetration. He leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. "Look down, Zatanna. Look at your clit." His fingers, coated in her own juices, spread her taped-open folds wider, exposing the swollen nub perched above the beads stretching her entrance. "See how small it looks?" His voice was a low, mocking purr. "After all that pumping, all that ache? Still just a little pink nub. Swollen, yes. But tiny. Insignificant next to the gape I'm putting in your cunt."
He grabbed a fistful of her dark hair near the scalp, not painfully, but with absolute control. He wrenched her head forward, forcing her to look down her own body, past her heaving breasts, past the curve of her pregnant belly, to the obscene tableau between her legs. Taped wide open. The strand of slick, dark steel beads disappearing deep into her flushed, stretched cunt. The swollen clitoris looked almost comically small above the gaping, metal-filled entrance. "See?" he demanded. "See how tiny your desperate little clit really is? How your cunt gapes wide enough to swallow this?" He pushed the beads deeper, grinding them inside her. She choked on a sob, humiliation and blinding arousal warring. "I see," she whispered, tears finally spilling over. "Tiny... gaping... fuck..."
Bruce kept a brutal rhythm with the beads, thrusting them in and out several times with sharp, deliberate movements. The metal spheres dragged against her sensitized inner walls, the largest one popping against her inner ring each time it plunged deep. Zatanna thrashed against her bonds, muscles straining, her cries escalating into near-screams. "Ah! God! Bruce! Fuck! Fuck me! Please!" Her orgasm built terrifyingly fast, a tsunami gathering force from the merciless internal stimulation and the crushing humiliation. He pulled the beads almost entirely out, leaving just the tip of the smallest sphere breaching her. Her cunt clenched desperately on emptiness. "Not yet," he growled, his voice thick with control and lust. He looked into her frantic, tear-filled eyes. "This swollen little nub isn't ready. It needs to be bigger. Much bigger." He released her hair, letting her head fall back. "Fifteen more sessions with the pump. Minimum. To get it full. Ready."
He pulled the beads out completely. A slick, wet pop echoed in the dungeon. Her cunt immediately spasmed violently around nothing, clenching and releasing, slick juices flowing freely down her taped-open labia onto the leather beneath. The emptiness was a new kind of agony. "Fifteen?" she gasped, disbelief and desperate need warring in her voice. "But... Bruce..." Her clit throbbed, already missing the vacuum’s deep ache, craving the pressure.
"Minimum," he confirmed, his tone brooking no argument. He held up the pump, the silicone cup glistening under the dim light. "We've only begun. Session two starts now." He positioned the cool cup over her exposed, hypersensitive flesh. The suction hissed to life. The deep, radiating ache slammed back into her swollen clit with crushing intensity. Zatanna screamed, arching violently, her body a bowstring pulled taut. The red camera light blinked. They were on two.