Chapter 11: The Silicone Gauntlet
Her orgasm left her drenched, trembling, and utterly boneless against the restraints. Fluid pooled in the shallow channels of the exam table, cooling around her hips. The speculum still held her vagina locked open at its calibrated width, the hemostats still pinned her labia wide, and every shudder of her body made her twitch helplessly around cold metal.
Bruce peeled off the soaked glove and dropped it in the waste bin. He didn't wipe the table. He simply opened a cabinet beneath the tray and began removing items one at a time, laying them in a neat row.
Silicone. Seven dildos, graduated, sized in unmistakable increments. The smallest was modest. The largest was a monster, veined and flared at the base, nearly the width of his forearm.
Zatanna's eyes traveled down the row and her breath caught. "Bruce. All of them?"
"In order." He selected a red ball gag from the tray, and the sight of it made her pussy clench around the speculum's blades. "Open."
She opened her mouth and accepted the gag. He buckled it snug at the nape of her neck, checking the strap with two fingers, then kissed her forehead almost tenderly. She moaned into the rubber, already wet again.
"Your recovery rate is remarkable," he said, and the hologram flickered as he adjusted its view. The blue schematic rotated, now centered not on her cunt but on her asshole. "Subject two. We begin."
The first toy was small, but after his finger her anus swallowed it easily. He worked it in with slow twists, watching her ring close around the silicone shaft, and she moaned behind the gag, her hips rocking as much as the restraints allowed.
"Gape, one," he murmured, sliding it out and pressing the holographic calipers to the readout. The number logged itself in glowing script. "Fifteen millimeters, sustained for three seconds before contraction. Good."
The second toy was thicker. She felt the stretch build at her rim, a burn that bordered on sweet, and her moan climbed in pitch. He twisted it past the widest point and buried it to the base alongside the memory of the first.
"Twenty-two millimeters." He withdrew it slowly, watching her hole flutter, puffy and pink, trying to close and failing. "Look at yourself."
The hologram showed it: her asshole, slightly parted, glistening with lube, twitching in the blue light. She whined into the gag, greedy, her cunt weeping around the speculum so steadily that a thin rivulet ran down toward the table's drain channel.
Toy three. Toy four. Each one wider than the last, each one logged, each one pushed in with the same unhurried, clinical patience while his voice stayed level and her moans grew more desperate. By the fifth, her stomach gave the faintest visible bulge when the shaft seated fully, and he pressed his palm flat against it.
"Feel that," he said. "Five toys of silicone, stacked inside you, and your body is making room. Your asshole is greedy, Zee. It's not even fighting me anymore. It wants to be stuffed. Look how beautiful it is, stretched white around all that thickness."
She looked. The schematic showed the toys rendered in ghost-blue, stacked like a column through her pelvis, and the calipers ticking up with every insertion. Forty millimeters. Forty-six. She moaned into the gag, long and shameless, her eyes glazed with pleasure.
The sixth toy was where her body balked.
The flare of it pressed against her straining rim and the muscle locked, refusing. She whimpered, hips straining, her asshole quivering around the six toys already buried deep enough to distort her lower belly.
"No, don't fight me," Bruce said softly. "You're not refusing. You're just full. That's all this is."
His free hand slid between the hemostats and found her clit, swollen and exposed, and began to rub in slow, firm circles. At the same time he drove two fingers of his other hand into her gaping, speculum-held cunt and curled them against her G-spot, pressing that spongy patch with ruthless precision.
The combination was devastating. Her moans turned to garbled pleading behind the gag, her thighs shaking against the nylon bands, her cunt clenching and gushing around his fingers and the cold steel blades. Fresh fluid splattered the table.
"There it is," he growled. "There's your greedy hole waking up." He kept the pressure steady, maddening, circling her clit with his thumb while his fingers milked that spot. "You're dripping. Your ass is trembling around six toys and it still wants more. Doesn't it?"
She nodded frantically, tears of pleasure at the corners of her eyes, moaning yes, yes, yes into the rubber.
"Say it clearly for the log. Do you want me to force this one in?"
She nodded again, harder, whining, her whole body straining toward him.
He asked it every time, and every time she nodded, gagged and frantic, her consent given in the only language she had left. And every time, he obliged.
The sixth dildo went in with steady, inexorable pressure. Her rim stretched white around its widest point, held there for one long breath while she screamed into the gag, then the flare slipped past and the shaft sank deep, stacking alongside the rest. Her stomach bulged. The holographic calipers logged fifty-four millimeters of gape.
She creamed around the speculum, a fresh gush of slick running out of her held-open cunt, and her body spasmed in waves against the restraints, muscles jerking, toes curling inside the ankle bands. Bruce watched the readout with dark, hungry eyes.
"Fifty-four," he said. "And contracting around all of it. Your anus is still trying to squeeze, even stuffed like this. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever measured."
He withdrew the sixth toy slowly, watching her hole gape and hang open for several seconds before it began to close. She moaned at the loss, then gasped as he pressed the seventh against her rim, thicker still, and the resistance came again.
His fingers were already moving. Thumb on her clit, two fingers drumming her G-spot through the speculum's open blades, and within seconds she was grinding her hips as far as the straps allowed, begging into the gag, nodding before he even finished the question.
"Do you want me to force it in? Every last inch, until your stomach bulges?"
Yes. Her nod was frantic, her eyes wide and wet and blazing with need.
He pushed. The seventh sank in inch by thick inch, her rim stretched taut and trembling around it, her belly distending under the accumulated mass of silicone, and she came again just from the insertion, gushing across the table while the calipers ticked past sixty and kept climbing.
"One more," he breathed, reaching for the last one, the monster at the end of the row. "And then your cunt is next. I'm going to stretch that dripping pussy wider than anything I've done tonight, and I'm going to log every millimeter of it."
She heard him through the haze, spasming around seven toys, her ruined hole clenching greedily, and moaned her answer into the gag before he'd even asked.