Chapter 10: Clit Slave
The sterile chill of the Growth Chamber still clung to Maggie’s skin, a stark contrast to the furnace blazing between her legs. A week since Silas strapped her down and pumped her clit to monstrous proportions, and the hunger hadn’t subsided. If anything, it had intensified, a constant, aching throb that echoed Silas’s clinical fascination and Ben’s wide-eyed lust. Now, sprawled on the same reinforced table under the glow of humming neon strips, that swollen flesh dominated the room. Seven inches of engorged, hypersensitive clitoral tissue, jutting out from her flushed labia like a fat, ruddy cock, demanding attention.
Ben stood beside the table, adjusting the holo-camera drone hovering silently overhead. His usual quirky awkwardness was replaced by a focused intensity, his eyes fixed on the obscene display Maggie presented. He ran a hand absently over the front of his jeans, feeling the hard outline of his own arousal. "Jesus, Maggie," he breathed, the casual obscenity sounding strange in the sterile quiet. "It’s even bigger than last week. That serum, damn… Silas wasn’t kidding about cumulative effects."
Maggie shifted, the cool metal of the table seeping into her bare back. Her fiery hair fanned out around her head like a halo of embers. "Feels like it," she groaned, her voice thick with need. "It’s… restless. Like it needs to be used. Silas promised… promised you’d show me your little kink." A defiant, mischievous glint sparked in her green eyes despite the vulnerability of her position. Her pussy lips glistened, slick anticipation already coating her inner thighs.
Ben grinned, a flash of teeth. "Oh yeah. We’re gonna have some fun with this magnificent beast." He picked up a long, slender object from a tray beside him. It was smooth, metallic, slightly curved, and studded with tiny, perfectly rounded beads along its length – a clitoral sound. "Silas suggested this. Designed it specifically for your… dimensions. Said it’ll help prepare the tissue for the main event. Make it nice and receptive."
Maggie’s breath hitched. The sight of the instrument sent a fresh surge of wetness flooding from her pussy. "Receptive to what?" she asked, already knowing, wanting to hear him say it.
"Spanking," Ben stated simply, his gaze hot on her protruding clit. "But first… first we need to make sure it stands up properly. Really shows off." He uncapped a small vial, coating the beaded sound liberally with thick, clear lubricant. The scent of sterile silicone filled the air. "Gonna fuck this monster clit with this, Maggie. Nice and deep. Gonna make it throb until it’s standing straight up and begging for my hand."
He didn’t wait for confirmation. His fingers, surprisingly strong and sure, spread her labia wider, exposing the dark, glistening slit at the base of her enormous clit. The tip of the sound pressed against the tiny opening. Maggie gasped, arching her back slightly off the table. "Fuck, Ben… it’s tight!"
"Gotta stretch it, baby," Ben murmured, his focus absolute. "Gotta open you up." He applied steady pressure, the slick beads catching on the sensitive rim before the first one slowly, inexorably, breached her clitoral urethra. Maggie whimpered, a high-pitched sound of shock and intense sensation. It wasn’t pain, not exactly, but a fierce, invasive fullness, a stretching burn that ignited every nerve ending in her clit. "Oh god… oh fuck, Ben…"
"That’s it," Ben encouraged, his voice husky. He twisted the sound subtly. "Take it. Feel those beads inside you. Rubbing you raw from the inside out." He pushed deeper, bead after slick bead disappearing into the impossibly tight channel within her engorged clit. Maggie’s hips bucked involuntarily. Her hands scrabbled at the smooth metal table, finding no purchase. The sensation was overwhelming – a deep, internal massage combined with the relentless pressure of expansion. Her clit pulsed violently around the intrusion, seeming to swell even larger, harder.
Ben worked slowly, deliberately, twisting and fucking the sound in shallow, probing thrusts. He watched her reactions closely – the fluttering of her eyelids, the way her mouth fell open in a silent scream, the trembling in her thighs. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "Yeah," he breathed, mesmerized. "Look at it. Getting so fucking hard." He pushed the last bead inside. The entire length of the sound was buried within her clit, only the flared base remaining visible against the swollen, dark red flesh. Her clit, stretched taut around the internal intruder, stood rigidly erect, jutting upwards at a stiff, obscene angle. It looked like a thick, veiny cock, impossibly rooted in her pussy. Saliva pooled in Maggie’s open mouth, her tongue lolling slightly as she panted, utterly consumed by the invasive pleasure radiating from her very core. "Tongue’s hanging out, sweetheart," Ben chuckled darkly. "Looks good on you."
He secured the flared base of the sound to a small, articulated clamp attached to the table. It held her clit immobile, stretched out and presented, unable to retreat even a fraction. "There," Ben said, wiping his hands on a towel. "All set up. My prize stallion, ready for breaking." He picked up a small, soft leather paddle, barely larger than his palm. "Low pain, high kink. Remember? We’re just gonna tease it awake."
The first tap was feather-light. The soft leather brushed against the hypersensitive, stretched skin of her exposed clit head. Maggie jolted, a sharp gasp escaping her slack mouth. It was a whisper of sensation, amplified a thousandfold by her state. "Sensitive?" Ben teased, tapping again in the same spot. "Good."
He varied the rhythm. Soft taps alternated with the gentle drag of the leather across her engorged flesh. He traced the prominent veins bulging beneath the taut skin, circled the base where it met her body, flicked the very tip where the sound disappeared inside. Each touch, though mild, sent electric jolts through Maggie. Her clit twitched violently against its restraints. Her pussy contracted, a fresh gush of wetness soaking the table beneath her. "Ohhh… Ben… that… it’s… fuck…" Coherent words were impossible. Her world narrowed to the nerve cluster trapped in bondage under his playful assault.
He switched tools. A bundle of soft, silken cords, the ends fringed. He dragged them lightly over her clit, the whisper-soft texture creating a maddening tickle. Maggie squirmed, a desperate whine building in her throat. "Tickle-tickle, big girl," Ben murmured, focusing the fringe on the ultra-sensitive underside. The contrast between the invasive fullness of the sound and the teasing external touches was driving her wild. Pleasure built, hot and liquid, pooling low in her belly, centered entirely on that one, absurdly enlarged point of sensation.
Next came a small, vibrating pad. He didn’t press it hard; just rested it lightly against the side of her bound clit and turned it on to its lowest setting. A low, insistent buzz resonated through the engorged tissue, vibrating the sound buried deep inside her. Maggie cried out, her back arching as much as the restraints allowed. "Yesss! Oh god, oh fuck, that buzz… inside… feels like it’s fucking me!" The vibration amplified the sensation of the beads, turning the internal stretch into a deep, rhythmic massage.
"Getting close, aren't you?" Ben observed, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his jeans. He picked up the leather paddle again. This time, the taps were a little firmer, a little faster. Tap-tap-tap on the swollen head. Tap-tap-tap along the rigid shaft. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to create sharp bursts of sensation that merged with the deep vibration and the constant internal stretch. He spanked her clit with methodical precision, varying the location and force, keeping her hovering on the edge.
"Please…" Maggie gasped, her voice a ragged sob. Her thighs trembled violently. Her entire body was slick with sweat. The need was volcanic, unbearable. "Please, Ben… make it… make me…"
"Make you what, Maggie?" Ben asked, landing a slightly sharper smack right on the tip. The sound inside her seemed to hum louder in response. "Make this fat fucking clit cum?"
"Yes!" she screamed, the word tearing from her throat. "Fucking make it cum! Spank it! Please!"
That was the trigger. Ben abandoned restraint. He brought the soft leather paddle down in a rapid, rhythmic flurry – smack-smack-smack-smack – directly onto the straining, bound length of her clit. The impact radiated through the vibrating sound, through the stretched tissue, detonating nerve endings. Simultaneously, he pressed the buzzing pad firmly against the base.
The orgasm didn't build; it detonated. It ripped through Maggie with the force of a supernova, utterly centered on her monstrous clit. Her body convulsed against the table restraints, a guttural, animalistic scream tearing from her open mouth. Her pussy clenched violently, a torrent of fluid gushing out, soaking the table, her thighs, everything. Her bound clit pulsed like a frantic heart, throbbing obscenely against the leather paddle still tapping it, against the relentless vibration, against the deep, deep penetration of the beaded sound. Wave after wave of pure, clitoral ecstasy crashed over her, blinding, deafening, reducing her to a shuddering, gasping, cumming mess on the table, her huge clit standing proud and stiff as the epicenter of her annihilation. Ben watched, stroking himself through his jeans, awestruck and fiercely aroused, as Maggie Delaney came harder than she ever thought possible, utterly dominated by her own transformed flesh.
The guttural scream died in Maggie's throat, replaced by ragged, wet gasps that hitched with every aftershock ripping through her bound clit. Her vision swam, neon lights streaking into smears of crimson and violet. Ben’s fingers dug into his own denim-covered cock, mesmerized by the spectacle: Maggie convulsing, her enormous, sound-stuffed clit still violently pulsing, a fountain of her release soaking the sterile table beneath her trembling ass. "Fucking hell, Mags," he breathed, voice rough. "That thing just exploded."
He waited, letting the tremors subside slightly, watching her huge clit throb like a frantic engine cooling down. The ridged beads of the sound remained buried deep, stretching her obscenely, keeping the hypersensitive tissue exposed and utterly vulnerable. Her green eyes were glazed, unfocused, sweat plastering fiery strands to her temples. She whimpered, a pathetic sound that only made Ben harder. "Still hungry?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual. He picked up the soft leather paddle again, slapping it lightly against his palm. Whap. Whap. The sound echoed sharply in the humming chamber.
Maggie flinched, a fresh tremor running through her. Her clit twitched against the sound, a visible spasm. "N-no... Ben... too much..." she slurred, her head lolling on the cool metal. "S'too sensitive... please..."
"Bullshit," Ben stated flatly. He leaned over her, his shadow falling across her flushed chest. "Look at this fucking monster." He traced a fingertip along the slick, stretched shaft, feeling the hard ridge of the sound beneath the swollen flesh. Maggie hissed, arching weakly. "It’s begging for more. Feel it jump? That ain't 'no'. That's 'fuck me harder, Ben'." He tapped the very tip, where the sound disappeared. Harder than before. A sharp crack.
"Ah! Fuck!" Maggie cried out, her body jerking against the restraints. The vibration pad, forgotten for a moment but still humming against the base of her clit, seemed to intensify the sting. A fresh bead of slickness wept from her stretched urethral opening around the sound. "Hurts..."
"Good hurt," Ben corrected, his eyes gleaming with a dark thrill. "The best kind." He didn't give her time to recover. He brought the paddle down again. Not a tap. A sharp, deliberate spank. SMACK! Right across the broadest part of her exposed clit shaft. The flesh jiggled obscenely, the sound vibrating violently inside her.
Maggie's mouth flew open in a silent scream. Her eyes rolled back, showing white. Her tongue, thick and wet, slid out past her lips, lolling uselessly as the brutal pleasure-pain detonated. The paddle descended again. SMACK! Lower down, near the vibrating pad. SMACK! A stinging blow directly onto the swollen, hypersensitive head. Each impact sent shockwaves through the sound, the beads grinding deep within her clitoris, amplifying the sensation into something monstrous. Tears streamed from the corners of Maggie's rolled-back eyes, mixing with the sweat on her temples. Her bound clit took each blow without flinching – it couldn’t retreat, couldn't hide. It was simply there, massive and exposed, absorbing the punishment, turning it into pure, agonizing ecstasy. "Guh... ah! GAH!" Guttural noises, animalistic and raw, replaced words. Her hips bucked wildly in their restraints, seeking friction, release, anything to counter the overwhelming assault centered on that one engorged point. Saliva pooled on her lolling tongue, dripping onto her chin. The sound felt like it was being hammered deeper with every spank, stretching her internally beyond belief.
Ben grunted, lost in the rhythm, the visual. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His blows weren't random now; they were targeted, rhythmic, building intensity. He watched her huge clit redden under the leather, watched it swell impossibly tighter around the invading sound, saw the slick fluids leaking freely. Her pussy clenched and released below in helpless, empty spasms. "That's it, take it you greedy slut," he growled. "Take every fucking spank for that magnificent cock-clit. Beg for it."
Maggie couldn't form words. Her world was reduced to the searing impact, the deep, grinding vibration, the brutal stretch. Pleasure coiled, impossibly tight and unbearably hot, low in her belly, centered entirely on the epicenter of the assault. Her tongue hung heavy and wet, her breath coming in ragged, whistling gasps around it. She was pinned, wrecked, utterly at the mercy of the sensations Ben controlled. He raised the paddle higher, readying another, harder blow, aiming for the glistening tip. Her bound clit pulsed violently, anticipating. The climax building this time wasn't a wave; it felt like a tectonic plate shifting, inevitable and terrifying. Her eyes snapped open, wide and desperate, meeting Ben's intense stare just as he brought the leather down.
The leather paddle cracked down, sharp and final, right across the engorged, weeping tip of Maggie’s monstrous clit. SMACK! The impact vibrated through the beaded sound buried deep inside her, rattling her teeth. Maggie’s scream tore through the sterile air, raw and ragged, her body jackknifing against the unforgiving restraints. Tears streamed freely now, mixing with the sweat and saliva slicking her chin. "FUCK! BEN! TOO MUCH!" she wailed, the words thick and distorted around her lolling tongue.
"Shut up and take it, whore," Ben growled, his own breath coming fast and hard. He didn't pause. SMACK! Another brutal blow landed lower, on the throbbing shaft stretched obscenely tight around the sound. The vibration pad pressed firmly against her clit’s base buzzed like an angry hornet, amplifying every sting into a searing brand. Maggie’s vision whited out. Her bound clit pulsed violently, a trapped animal under siege. Wetness, thick and hot, gushed anew from her pussy below, soaking the cold metal beneath her ass. "Look at it!" Ben commanded, his voice tight with lust. "Look at that fat fucking cock-clit jump! It loves this!"
He was right. Beneath the agony, beneath the terrifying overload, a furnace of pure, degrading pleasure roared. The deep grind of the beads inside her stretched channel, the brutal percussion of the paddle, the relentless buzz – it fused into a single, devastating current. Maggie’s hips pistoned uselessly against the restraints, seeking friction she couldn't find. Her clit, impossibly, felt harder, hotter, hungrier. "Please... please..." she gasped, not knowing if she begged for mercy or more. Her tongue felt swollen, useless, drool dripping freely onto her collarbone.
Ben answered with another volley. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Short, sharp impacts rained down, methodical and cruel. He focused on the underside now, where the hypersensitive nerves screamed loudest. Maggie’s cries dissolved into choked, guttural sobs. Her bound clit darkened under the assault, a deep, angry crimson, slick with her own juices and the lubricant weeping around the sound’s base. The vibration seemed to burrow deeper, shaking the beads against her internal walls. "Feel that?" Ben hissed, landing a stinging blow directly on the stretched opening where the sound disappeared. "Feel those beads fucking your clit from the inside? Making it bigger? Making it mine?"
The sensation was unbearable. Unholy. Maggie’s back arched impossibly high, tendons straining in her neck. Her eyes rolled back again, showing only the whites. A strangled groan ripped from her throat. The coil inside her, wound impossibly tight by pain and invasive pleasure, snapped. This orgasm wasn't a wave; it was an implosion. It detonated deep within her clit, radiating outwards like shrapnel. Her entire body seized, rigid as iron against the restraints. A torrent of fluid, thicker than before, erupted from her pussy in a gushing flood. Her bound clit convulsed violently around the invading sound, pulsing like a frantic, dying heart. No sound escaped her gaping mouth now, just desperate, whistling gasps around her slack tongue. Bliss and agony fused into pure, annihilating sensation.
Ben watched, transfixed, his hand stilling on the paddle. Maggie lay utterly wrecked, trembling uncontrollably, her huge clit still twitching sporadically against its bonds, slick and swollen and impossibly exposed. The low hum of the vibration pad was the only sound besides her ragged breathing. He slowly lowered the paddle, his knuckles white. "Fuck," he breathed, awed and deeply aroused. He reached out, not with the paddle, but with trembling fingers. He traced the slick, overheated flesh, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his touch, the hard ridge of the sound within. Maggie whimpered, a tiny, broken sound. "Silas wasn't kidding," Ben murmured, almost to himself. "You really are built for this." His thumb brushed the stretched, sensitive opening around the sound’s base. Maggie flinched violently, a fresh tremor shaking her. The chamber door hissed open. Silas Thorne stood silhouetted in the neon-lit doorway, his sharp eyes instantly taking in the scene: Maggie pinned, dripping, her monstrous clit bound and abused, Ben’s hand still hovering possessively over it. A slow, predatory smile touched the doctor’s lips. "Progress report, Mr. Carter?" His voice was cool, clinical, but his gaze burned with intense, focused hunger. "It appears Ms. Delaney is exceeding expectations." He stepped fully into the room, the door sealing shut behind him with a soft, final click. His polished shoes echoed on the sterile floor as he approached the restraint table, his attention locked entirely on Maggie’s ravaged, presented flesh. "Magnificent," he breathed, the word thick with reverence. "The erythema... the swelling... precisely the desired inflammatory response." He didn't look at Ben. His focus was absolute. Maggie, sensing his presence even through her shattered haze, managed to turn her head slightly. Her green eyes, glazed and unfocused, met his. A fresh tear tracked through the sweat on her temple. Silas reached into the pocket of his immaculate lab coat, withdrawing a pair of thin, sterile gloves. He pulled them on with deliberate, practiced movements, the latex snapping against his wrists. "The sound appears adequately seated," he observed, his tone detached, analytical. He leaned closer, his gloved fingers replacing Ben’s, probing the stretched, inflamed flesh around the base of the embedded instrument with chilling precision. Maggie whimpered again, a high-pitched sound of utter vulnerability. Silas ignored it. He applied gentle pressure beside the sound’s flared base. "Significant tumescence. Excellent vascular engorgement." His thumb pressed harder, testing the give of the swollen tissue. Maggie gasped, her hips jerking weakly. "Sensitive?" Silas murmured, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes. "Good. That indicates profound neural excitation." He straightened, finally glancing at Ben. "The spanking protocol? Subjective pain rating?" Ben swallowed, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "Uh... high. Very high. But she... she came. Twice. Hard." Silas nodded, unsurprised. He picked up the small leather paddle Ben had discarded, examining it clinically. "Soft leather. Minimal epidermal trauma." He looked back at Maggie’s bound clit, red and glistening. "The vibration adjuvant?" "Low setting," Ben supplied. "Seemed to... amplify things." "Naturally. Deep tissue resonance." Silas placed the paddle down. He picked up the vibrating pad instead, his gloved thumb hovering over the control. His gaze returned to Maggie, pinning her. Delaney. Can you articulate your current sensation?" Maggie blinked slowly, trying to form words past her numb tongue, past the deep, residual throb radiating from her core. "Hurts..." she slurred. "...full... hot... buzzing..." "Vague," Silas stated coolly. "But indicative of profound somatic overload." His thumb pressed the control on the vibrator pad. Not down. Up. The low hum instantly escalated into a harsh, insistent buzz. He pressed the pad firmly against the underside of Maggie’s bound, tortured clit. The effect was instantaneous, catastrophic. The intensified vibration shot through the already hypersensitive, stretched tissue, rattling the beads of the sound violently against her internal walls. Maggie’s body arched off the table with shocking force, straining against the restraints with a metallic groan. A raw, animal shriek ripped from her throat, utterly devoid of words. Her eyes flew wide, pupils blown black with shock and renewed, overwhelming sensation. Her clit, impossibly, seemed to swell further under the assault, darkening almost to purple, the veins standing out like ropes beneath the taut, abused skin. Silas watched, utterly absorbed, his expression one of pure scientific rapture. "Observe the vasocongestion," he murmured, almost to himself. "The involuntary myoclonic response. Textbook." He adjusted the angle of the vibrator, grinding it harder against the ultra-sensitive spot. Maggie thrashed like a landed fish, choked screams tearing from her, her bound clit a frenzied, vibrating obscenity under his clinical touch. Ben took a step back, his own arousal momentarily eclipsed by a spike of primal unease. Silas Thorne wasn't just observing; he was dissecting her ecstasy with cold, focused intensity. The doctor’s gloved fingers tightened on the vibrator, pressing it relentlessly into Maggie’s shuddering flesh. Her screams dissolved into desperate, wet gurgles. Her tongue hung utterly slack, thick ropes of saliva dripping onto her chest. Below, her pussy clenched and released in frantic, empty spasms, adding fresh rivulets to the mess on the table. Silas leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her overheated skin. "Endure, Ms. Delaney," he commanded, his voice low and utterly devoid of mercy. "The data is invaluable." He increased the pressure. The harsh buzz filled the chamber, drowning out everything but Maggie’s broken, gasping pleas and the frantic, wet pulse of her ruined clit straining against its bonds. Ben watched, frozen, as Silas Thorne pushed Maggie Delaney further into the abyss.