Chapter 30: The Feedback Loop
The chain was a cold, delicate thing. A fine silver links, deceptively strong, connecting the captive bead ring piercing the swollen head of Maggie’s clit to the matching stud in the tip of her tongue. It forced her mouth open in a permanent, slack-jawed pant, her tongue extended slightly, a pink leash tethering her face to her groin.
Every slight turn of her head sent a corresponding tug through the hypersensitive nerve bundle, a bright flare of sensation that made her eyes water. She was on her knees, back arched, ass in the air, presenting herself. The massive, bulbous head of an inflatable silicone plug was already buried deep in her ass, its thicker neck stretching her second ring. Ben’s hand was on the base, working it in tiny, cruel circles.
“Chat’s calling this one ‘The Feedback Loop’,” Ben said conversationally, his other hand adjusting a tablet mounted on a stand. On the screen, a simplified neural graph spiked erratically. “Electrodes on your clit, sensors in the plug. Every time that greedy shithole of yours clenches down, trying to suck this toy deeper, the rig sends a jolt. Clench, shock. Clench, shock. Let’s see how many times you can cream yourself before your brain melts.”
He gave the plug a final, ruthless shove, seating it fully. Maggie grunted around her immobilized tongue, a line of drool escaping her lips and dripping onto the silk sheet beneath her. The chain jangled.
“Look at you,” Ben murmured, squatting beside her, his eyes critical. He traced the flared rim of the plug where it met her puckered, well-used star. “This hole is so trained. So open. It fucking winks at me now.” He delivered a sharp, open-handed smack to her ass cheek, making her jolt. The involuntary clench around the plug was immediate.
The shock that ripped through her clit was a white-hot spear of pure, undiluted voltage. It wasn’t the deep chemical burn of the serum; this was surface-level agony, a precise and violent violation. A choked scream was trapped behind her stretched tongue, coming out as a desperate, gurgling keen. Her body convulsed, her head thrashed sideways, and the chain yanked viciously on her piercing, sending a second, different pain screaming from the other end of the silver link.
“There’s one,” Ben announced calmly, watching the graph peak. A counter on the stream overlay ticked from 0 to 1. “See? Your body betrays you. It can’t help but try to swallow what’s inside it. You’re just a set of hungry holes.”
He stood, walking around her as she trembled, the aftermath of the shock buzzing in her teeth. He picked up a small, medical-looking remote. “Gonna crank the sensitivity way up. And the intensity.” He clicked a switch.
The next clench was smaller, just a reflexive flutter from the lingering sting of his spank. It was enough.
ZZZT.
The shock was sharper, longer. Maggie’s vision speckled with black stars. Her back arched violently, a strangled “NNNNGGGHHH” forcing its way out. Her hips bucked, seeking friction she couldn’t get. Another orgasm, ripped from her by pure electrochemical hijacking, tore through her. Her cunt spluttered, dripping a fresh slickness onto her thighs. The counter ticked to 2.
“Fuck, you’re dripping already,” Ben laughed, a note of genuine awe in his voice. “Two in, what, ten seconds? Your record is gonna be obliterated.”
He let the machine work. Maggie fought not to clench, breathing in ragged, controlled huffs through her nose. But the plug was a constant, stretching presence, a demand for recognition. Her muscles, tired and wired, would twitch without her consent.
A tiny, involuntary spasm.
ZZZT.
“AHHH-GUH!” Her head snapped back, the chain pulling her tongue out further, making her gag. The shock triggered a harder clench, which triggered another, stronger shock—a true feedback loop. The third orgasm was a rolling, continuous seizure, her juices leaking in a steady stream. Counter: 3.
“I can see your brain melting in real-time on the EEG,” Ben mused, watching the tablet. “Higher functions are just… switching off. You’re just clit and cunt and ass now. A perfect little binary state: clenched or coming.”
He moved closer, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for her and the ever-present mic. “Look at this ruined hole.” He spanked her asshole directly, his palm making a wet, flat sound against the silicone and her stretched rim. She wailed, clenching hard in protest.
ZZZT-CRACK! The shock and the spank merged into one devastating sensation.
“Gonna have to spank this hole shut,” he breathed, delivering another sharp slap to the very center of her. “Pound it back into a tight little pucker. Make it look like a virgin’s again.” Smack. “So I can wreck it deep all over.” Smack.
Her groan was long and shuddering, a sound of pure longing that vibrated against the chain. The promise cut through the electric haze better than any drug. Her swollen clit, still wired and tender, gave a frantic, throbbing pulse that tugged at the silver link to her tongue.
Ben saw the shift in her eyes, the desperate gleam that replaced pained shock. He softened the next spank into a caress, his fingers gently tracing the heated, swollen flesh around the plug’s base. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice dropping into that intimate space the microphone cherished. “My pretty, punched-out whore. You want that beautiful gape ruined all over again.”
He moved to kneel in front of her, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw, his thumb lovingly wiping the drool from her chin. He ignored the chain, his touch contradicting the brutality of the rig. “I’m going to deflate this plug,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m going to watch that tired, loose hole suck it back in, trying to be tight for me. And then I’m going to break it. I’m going to spread you open on our favourite piece of silicone, that thick, veined horse cock, and I’m not stopping until those fake balls are slapping against your filthy cunt.”
A fresh, thick strand of saliva dripped from Maggie’s trapped tongue. She managed a frantic, jerky nod, her nostrils flaring with each ragged breath.
“And this,” Ben said, his thumb tracing her lower lip before tapping the chain. “This stays. I think while I’m wrecking your ass, pounding that pucker back into a ruined, sloppy mess, you should be forced to suck. You should service that big, fat clit-cock of yours. You should taste yourself while I violate you. How does that sound, Maggie? You want to choke on your own fucking dick while I split your other hole wide open?”
The moan that escaped her was one of absolute, shattered consent. It was a wet, guttural sound of anticipation that seemed to come from the very depth of the serum-stretched pathways inside her.
“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice thick. He gave her a final, almost chaste kiss on the forehead before his demeanor shifted back to technical precision. He reached for the valve on the inflatable plug.
The hiss was slow, deliberate. Maggie felt the immense internal pressure begin to relent, the thick silicone neck shrinking gradually. Her body, trained and hungry, instinctively tried to clench, to hold onto the fullness. A minor spasm triggered a final, warning ZZZT that made her jerk, but the shock was secondary to the hollow ache being left behind.
Once the plug was slim enough, he pulled it from her with a soft, wet pop. Her anus gaped, a dark, twitching circle of relaxed muscle, beautifully wrecked from the Milking Crucible session and the recent stretching. It glistened under the lights, breathing open and shut.
Ben held up the deflated plug for the camera, then tossed it aside with a dismissive clatter. He reached off-screen and returned with the toy. It was monstrous, a deep burgundy shaft of lifecast silicone with thick, pronounced veins and a flared, equine head. The heavy, synthetic balls at its base were the size of plums.
He slicked it with a whole bottle of clear gel, the viscous liquid dripping in ropes onto the sheets. He positioned himself behind her, the blunt, wide tip nudging against her loose entrance. “Suck,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for debate.
Maggie strained against the chain, lowering her head, her green eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the throbbing, red-purple flesh of her own clit. She opened her mouth as wide as the tether allowed, her extended tongue licking a broad, wet stripe from base to tip. The taste of her own sweat, serum, and metallic arousal flooded her senses.
At the same moment, Ben leaned his weight forward.
The horse cock’s head did not simply push; it demanded. It was a brutal, relentless invasion of diameter, stretching her puckered ring back past its recent memory, tearing through the relaxed state into a fresh, burning openness. Maggie screamed around her own flesh, the sound muffled, her body trying to recoil forward from the penetration.
Ben held her hips, unwavering. “Suck it harder,” he grunted, shoving another inch, feeling her internal muscles flutter in frantic protest. “Eat that fucking dick you’ve grown.”
She obeyed, taking the swollen head of her clit past her lips, sucking frantically as if it were a lifeline. The dual sensations overloaded every circuit. The feeling of her mouth stretched around her own sensitive organ, her tongue rubbing the piercing, merged with the feeling of her ass being forcibly widened, filled beyond comfort. Her world telescoped down to two points of intense, congruent stretch.
Ben began to fuck her with deep, deliberate strokes, each thrust burying more of the thick, veined shaft. The synthetic balls slapped against her labia with a heavy, rhythmic thwack. The pace was not frantic, but it was inexorable, each drive forward conquering new, untouched depth.
The stretch was a burning, granular tear, a distinct sensation of fibers yielding past their limit with every slow, centimeter-deep advance. He watched her asshole swallow the thick, veined shaft, the wrinkled brown silk of her rim distorting into a smooth, tight O around the burgundy silicone. "Breathe, cockslut," he reminded her, his voice a low rasp beside her ear as he leaned over her back, his chest damp against her spine. "Breathe out and let it in."
She exhaled a shuddering, snot-filled sob, and he pushed deeper, the immense head prying into a chamber still humming from the serum's aftermath. The fullness was colossal, a blunt rearrangement of her insides that pressed up against everything, making the ghost of the Milking Crucible's injection ache in her urethral tract. Her mouth, still desperately working on her own clit, slackened for a second, a moan vibrating against the pierced flesh.
"Don't you stop sucking," Ben warned, his hand fisting in her red hair to guide her rhythm. "That's your job right now. That's your only job." He pulled his hips back almost all the way, letting her feel the brutal ridge of the toy's medial ring catch on her stretched entrance, before sinking it back in with that same patient, devastating slowness. "This hole is so fucking open I can see your heartbeat in it."
Each entry was a fresh violation, a deliberate wrecking of the sensitive, recovering tissue. He angled the toy, grinding it deep, seeking the spot that would make her eyes roll back. When he found it, a slow, circular pressure against her prostate, her entire body went rigid. A sharp, surprised squeal was trapped by the chain.
"There she is," he cooed. "Chat, look at that. Her clit just dribbled all over her chin. That’s her spot." He held the pressure, not moving in and out, just applying a deep, internal nudge. "You wanna come from this, don't you? You wanna get fucked in the ass so good your stupid fucking dick spills without anyone touching it."
She nodded frantically, drool and precum making a slick mess on her chin and chest. The need was a physical fever, buzzing in the metal of her piercings.
"Not yet," he whispered, and began moving again, a fraction faster. The thwack-thwack-thwack of the heavy balls against her cunt lips became a steady, obscene metronome. "Gonna get this whole thing in you. Every last inch. Gonna bottom out in your colon and park it there." He fed her more length, the stretch transitioning from burning to a dense, overwhelming pressure that fogged her thoughts. "And then I'm gonna turn the feedback loop back on. A little sexy zap every time you clench on this monster. A little reward for being such an accommodating sleeve."
The promise made her flutter around the invading girth. He felt the spasm and chuckled, sheathing the final, thick third of the toy until those synthetic balls were firmly nestled against her swollen labia. She was utterly impaled, filled beyond any previous benchmark, her ass stretched into a smooth, perfect sheen around the base. "Fuck, look at that," he breathed, admiring the view. "You take it like it's nothing. You're a natural-born fuckhole."
He reached for the tablet, swiping. A low hum resonated from the neural rig. "Sensitivity to low. Let's make it fun." He pulled back and thrust in, a solid, deep stroke.
Her sphincter clenched instinctively on the retreat.
ZZZT.
The shock this time was a bright, sweet sizzle, a carbonated pop of pleasure that erupted in her clit and zinged straight to the base of her spine. It wasn't pain; it was a pure, distilled jolt of euphoric static. Her cry was one of bewildered delight, her mouth clamping harder on her own flesh, her tongue lashing the piercing.
"See?" Ben grunted, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Each withdrawal made her hungry hole tighten, seeking to keep him buried. Each tightening triggered another candy-bright ZZZT that splintered through her nerves. "Your body knows what it wants. Clench, you dumb slut. Clench for your juice."
And she did. She was chasing the shocks now, actively squeezing the massive intruder, milking it with her internal muscles to trigger the dazzling, addictive zaps. Each one pushed her higher, a feedback loop of pleasure instead of pain. Her autofellatio became sloppy, hungry, her throat working as if she could deep-throat her own enlarged, throbbing cocklet. The sounds she made were garbled, primal, a symphony of choking worship and shattered moans.
"Gonna come, aren't you?" Ben panted, his own control fraying as he watched her dissolve. "Gonna cream from getting your ass fucked and your dick shocked while you suck yourself. You're a fucking masterpiece." He hammered into her faster, the slow, deep pace breaking into desperate, pounding drives. The shocks came in a rapid, stuttering cascade, ZZZT-ZZZT-ZZZT, a lightning storm in her clit syncing with the brutal piston of silicone in her ass.
Her orgasm, when it detonated, was silent. Her body seized, her back arching into a bowstring, her ass clamped in a vice-grip around the toy. A torrent of clear fluid, the last vestiges of the serum and her own slick, gushed from her urethra in a hot stream, coating her tongue, her lips, her neck. The neural graph flatlined into a solid bar of peak activity. The counter, forgotten, ticked silently past 20, 21, 22.
Ben shouted, his hips stuttering, as her violent, continuous clamping triggered shock after shock after blissful shock, milking the sensation from both of them until they collapsed forward into the soaked silk, a tangled, shuddering heap of wire and flesh and overspent machinery. The only sound was the wet, ragged gasps she pulled through the chain, and the low, contented hum of the amplifier, still waiting.
The only sound was the wet, ragged gasps she pulled through the chain, and the low, contented hum of the amplifier, still waiting. Ben’s weight was a warm, solid pressure on her back, the monstrous toy still seated fully inside her, a possession more than an invasion now. He shifted, his breath stirring her sweat-damp hair, and the movement made her clench weakly around the silicone, a final, fading echo that triggered one last faint zzzt from the electrodes.
She whimpered, a shiver running through her like a fault line.
“Okay,” Ben sighed, the word breathed into her shoulder blade. He slowly, carefully withdrew the horse cock, and the sensation of that immense fullness leaving was its own profound violation. She felt hollowed out, air cooling the freshly stretched, slick tunnel. He disconnected the neural leads from her clit, the suction cups releasing with soft pops, and then his fingers were at her jaw, working the delicate clasp of the chain.
The silver links slithered away, freeing her tongue. She let her head fall forward, coughing, swallowing the metallic taste of blood from where she’d bitten her cheek. Her clit, now unsupported, throbbed like a second heartbeat in the open air, swollen and gleaming.
“Look at me, Maggie.” His voice was quiet, devoid of its performative edge. She dragged her eyes up to his. The mischievous glint was gone, burned away, leaving something glassy and depthless. He cupped her cheek, his thumb smoothing over a track of spit and tears. “You with me?”
She nodded, the motion causing a fresh drip of fluid to escape her urethra and trail down her inner thigh. “M’with you,” she slurred, her tongue thick and foreign in her mouth. “Chat… good?”
Ben’s gaze flicked to the main monitor. His expression shifted, eyebrows lifting slightly. A slow grin spread across his face, not the tech-enthusiast smile or the dom’s smirk, but something genuinely astonished.
“Chat,” he said, his voice lifting back into a stream-aware register, though it crackled with authentic shock, “is absolutely fucking losing it.”
CHAT EXPLODES.
The screen was a solid, screaming wall of text and emojis, moving too fast to read individual messages. The token counter was a blur of numbers, skyrocketing in a golden waterfall of tips. Heart emojis, fire emojis, and cartoonish explosion graphics filled the sidebar. Moderation alerts blinked frantically, unable to keep pace with the volume. It wasn’t just engagement; it was a digital tsunami.
“They’re… they’re demanding an AMA,” Ben laughed, a disbelieving snort. “Right now. They want to ask the fountain herself questions while she’s still… glazed.” He looked back at her, his eyes scanning her wrecked body, the juice drying on her skin, the spectacular, softened gape between her cheeks. “You up for that? You can say no.”
Maggie pushed herself up on trembling arms. The request cut through the fog. This wasn’t a physical challenge; it was a career milestone. A direct line. She licked her swollen lips, tasted salt and copper and her own distinct, musky flavor. A spark, faint but unmistakable, rekindled in her green eyes.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice raspy but clear. “Yeah, I’m up. Get me the stool. And a towel. A small one.”
Ben helped her onto the padded leather stool, positioning her to face the camera. He handed her a hand towel, no bigger than a washcloth. She didn’t use it to cover herself. She draped it over her thigh, a pointless, tantalizing gesture of modesty. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, which naturally spread her legs, putting every swollen, spent inch of her on glorious display. The serum-drip had slowed to a lazy, persistent seep.
Ben pinned a new, highlighted chat window onto the main feed. Questions poured in.
MaggieOfficial: Ask your questions, you beautiful perverts. I’m all here.
The first one popped up, bolded by a tip. ‘Did the serum actually come out your clit? What did it TASTE like?’
Maggie blinked, then a hoarse laugh escaped her. “Yeah, it came out. Felt like pissing fire and ice. Tasted like… minty shame. And pennies. Next.”
‘Do you even feel normal sex anymore after all that stretching?’
She considered this, her head tilting. Ben hovered just off-camera, watching her, his arms crossed. “Feel it?” she said slowly. “Different, yeah. Not less. More… textured. Like I’ve got more map to explore inside. Ben’s cock isn’t a horse dick, but after that?” She smirked, a ghost of her old self. “It feels like a fucking prize.”
‘Was the shock thing at the end pleasure or pain?’
“Yes,” she answered immediately, no hesitation. “It was the circuit completing. The machine knew what my dumb cunt needed before I did.” She shifted on the stool, a fresh trickle of awareness moving through her. The post-session glow was fading, replaced by a deep, renewed hum. The amplifier was off, but her body was still tuned to its frequency.
‘What’s next? You can’t top that.’
Maggie looked past the camera, to where Ben stood. Their eyes locked. The question hung in the air, charged. The memory of the Milking Crucible, of the forced, gagging fullness, of the two liters of serum swimming in her core, collided with the fresh, throbbing emptiness in her ass. A concept clicked into place, dark and perfect.
A slow, predatory smile spread across Ben’s face. He’d seen the thought in her eyes.
“Chat,” Maggie said, her voice dropping, losing its hoarseness, gaining a new, terrifying confidence. “You liked the fountain, right? You liked watching me spill?”
The chat scrolled affirmatives, a hurricane of YES.
She leaned closer to the lens, her green eyes filling the screen. “What if I didn’t just come it out? What if we used the other hole? The one you just watched get ruined open.” She paused, letting the imagery sink in. “What if Ben pumped me so full of that minty shit again that it had nowhere to go but up? What if he fed a tube right through my stretched, fucked-out ass, deep into my gut, and filled me from the other side?”
Ben was already moving, a blur of purposeful activity, pulling the serum pump and its fresh, full reservoir bag from the equipment trolley.
“Then,” Maggie whispered, the promise vibrating with potential, “he could fuck it back out of me. Through the right pipe this time. A reverse fountain. A fuck-pump.” She reached between her own legs, two fingers sliding easily into her sodden, neglected cunt, her eyes fluttering for a second. “While he’s filling my ass with cold, he can be pounding my pussy with fire. I wanna feel both. I wanna be the conduit.”
Ben held up a new attachment—a longer, thinner tube with a rounded, perforated tip. “Colonic infusion nozzle,” he explained to the chat, his voice bright with engineering fervor. “Won’t hurt her. Much. It’ll just… deliver the payload deeper. To the real estate the plug just vacated.”
Maggie got off the stool, her legs steady now, a new energy suffusing her. She turned her back to the camera, presenting her gaping, glistening rosebud to the thousands watching. She looked over her shoulder, her expression serene, ready.
“Plug me in, Daddy,” she said, the word now a tool, a key. “Make me your fountain again. Fill me from the bottom up.”
Ben guided her down, not onto the bed, but onto all fours, her ass elevated. He kissed the small of her back, a tender contrast to what came next. The chat was silent, holding its breath, the torrent of messages paused in awe of the commitment.
The cool, lubricated tip of the infusion nozzle met her resistance-less entrance. It slid in without pause, an easy, smooth invasion, sinking deep past the reach of any toy, into intimate, uncharted space. She sighed, a contented sound, as he connected the other end to the pump with a soft click.
“Valve open,” Ben murmured, his hand resting on the flare of her hip. “Beginning transfer.”
The whirr-click-whirr of the pump was the only sound. Maggie’s breath hitched. This wasn’t the sharp, urethral fire of before. This was a deep, insidious expansion, a chilling flood pooling low in her abdomen, a pressure that pressed outward against the walls of her colon and inward against the shared membrane with her cunt. Her eyes went wide, her mouth forming a soft ‘o’.
“Oh, god,” she breathed, feeling the cold weight settle, the volume growing. “It’s… it’s so deep. I can feel it in my spine.”
Ben watched the fluid level in the reservoir drop. He reached between her legs from behind, his fingers finding her clit, now merely heavily engorged rather than monstrous. He rubbed slow, firm circles. “Half a liter in,” he cooed. “Your greedy shithole is just drinking it down. It’s so empty, it’s just a sack waiting to be filled.”
He entered her cunt in one smooth, blunt thrust, his cock a familiar, burning stretch after the silicone monstrosity. The dual sensation was obliterating: the deep, chilling, liquid fullness invading from behind, and the solid, hot reality of him claiming her from the front. He moved, a slow grind, and the internal pressures shifted, the serum sloshing against his cock through the thin tissue separating them.
“You feel that?” he grunted, picking up pace. “You feel my dick pushing against the lake I’m putting inside you?”
Maggie could only nod, her forehead pressed to the silk, her fingers clawing at the sheets. The pump whirred on, relentless, adding cold volume to the tumultuous heat. She was the conduit, the contested space, the living, breathing filter between sensation and fluid. The chat watched, the numbers climbing, as Ben fucked her with a steady, punishing rhythm, his hips driving the serum deeper with every thrust, her body becoming a vessel at the point of overflow.