Chapter 40: Obedience
The door to the backroom clicked shut, sealing them in the warm, sound-dampened silence of The Velvet Cage. The breeding bench, a sturdy monstrosity of polished oak and padded leather, dominated the space. Ben guided her to it, his hand firm on the small of her back, right where the curve of her spine met the new, subtle swell of her belly.
“Over you go, Magpie,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Let’s see how my son likes his mama getting stretched.”
She went willingly, the pregnancy hormones a relentless tide in her blood, making her skin hyper-sensitive, her cunt perpetually slick, and that magnificent two-foot length of her clit a throbbing, desperate second spine. The cool leather met her heated skin as she bent over. Her distended belly, just beginning to round, pressed into the padding. She felt obscenely open, presented.
Ben’s fingers, calloused from keyboard work, traced the puffy lips of her cunt, already gleaming. “So wet for me already. This baby’s making you a fucking faucet.” He slid a finger in, curling it, and she cried out, her hips jerking. “Uh-uh. Hold still. We’re just getting started.”
He reached for the toy on the shelf—a hefty, knotted silicone thing, dark as midnight and thicker than his wrist. He lubed it thoroughly, the sound obscenely slick in the quiet room. He pressed the bulbous head against her other hole, the one still fluttering from the toy he’d buried there last week. “Remember this feeling, Maggie? That fat knot sitting deep in your colon? Let’s see if we can make you feel it even better.”
He pushed. The stretch was immense, breathtaking. She gasped, her knuckles white on the bench’s legs. It wasn’t pain, not quite; it was a monumental fullness, an invasion that demanded her body’s total surrender. He worked it in slowly, mercilessly, until the widest part of the knot popped past her tight ring and settled deep inside. She felt it, a profound pressure against her inner walls, a companion to the gentle life growing in her womb.
“There,” Ben breathed, patting her ass cheek. “Now you’re properly stuffed. My cock in your pussy, my kid in your belly, and my toy way the fuck up your ass. You’re completely mine, every hole.”
Then his hand came down. Crack! A firm, targeted spank landed directly on her right ass cheek, jolting the massive toy inside her. She yelped, her inner muscles clenching violently around the silicone knot.
“Feel that?” he growled. Crack! Another, on the left. “Feel that toy move? Your colon’s gripping it like a fucking fist.” He began in earnest then, a rain of sharp, calculated spanks from every angle—high on the crest of her cheek, low near her trembling thighs, diagonals that made her whole body jolt. Each impact reverberated through her, sending shockwaves of sensation that forced her to clamp down on the intruder, making its presence an undeniable, throbbing truth inside her.
“Oh god, Ben!”
“God’s not here, baby. Just me. And I’m gonna play with my favorite toy.” His spanking paused. His fingers found the root of her enormous clit, where it protruded swollen and iron-hard between her legs. He wrapped a vibrating cock ring around its base, the silicone a tight embrace, and cranked it on. The buzz was immediate, a maddening tremor that traveled up the entire frantic length of her.
“Look at this beautiful fucking thing,” he muttered, almost to himself, giving her clit a long, slow stroke from root to tip. “So big and hungry. The hormones are making it even harder, aren’t they? It’s begging.” He punctuated his words with another sharp spank, making her jump and her clit bob heavily. “It knows its job. Its job is to get fucked stupid while I fill your cunt.”
He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her soaked entrance. He didn’t enter. Not yet. He just teased, the head rubbing through her folds, smearing her own wetness as his other hand continued to rhythmically spank her ass, each blow a bright sting that made her gasp and push back against him.
“Please,” she whimpered, a thread of pure need.
“Please what, you greedy girl? You’ve got a baby in you and a toy in your ass and this magnificent dick between your legs. What more could you possibly want?”
“You! Inside, fuck, please, Ben!”
He chuckled, a dark, possessive sound. Finally, he sank into her cunt in one slow, deep stroke. She screamed, the fullness becoming cosmic. He was at her womb, kissing the mouth of her cervix, while the toy in her ass pressed against him through the thin wall of tissue. He began to move, a relentless, piston-like rhythm, each thrust shaking her entire body on the bench.
His hand abandoned her ass and returned to her clit. He palmed the vibrating length of it, squeezing, then ran his thumb in tight circles around the hypersensitive head. “This is your life now, Maggie. This fat, beautiful clit and my kid in your belly. You’re gonna be so fucking sensitive, so horny, you’ll think you’re losing your mind.” He sped up his thrusts, his balls slapping against her. “And I’m gonna be right here. Every day. Making this clit cum. Making this pregnant cunt cum. Making you scream on this big fucking toy in your ass. You’re gonna cum constantly for the next eight months. Do you understand me? You’ll wake up cumming. You’ll make breakfast and cum. You’ll edit videos and cum. Your whole world is gonna be this.”
His words were a filthy promise, a glorious contract. She felt the orgasm building, a cataclysm starting deep in her fertilized core, amplified by the vibrations on her clit and the unyielding pressure in her ass. It wasn’t a single peak, but a crashing wave that broke over her and just kept going, turning her vision white, making her voice hoarse from screaming.
It wasn’t a single peak, but a crashing wave that broke over her and just kept going, turning her vision white, making her voice hoarse from screaming. Her body seized, every muscle locking around the triple invasion, her swollen clit pulsing a hot jet of cum onto the leather below. Ben rode her through it, his thrusts never faltering, his grip on her hipbones iron-tight.
“That’s it, squeeze me,” he grunted, his rhythm growing brutal, punctuated by the wet slap of flesh. “Squeeze that knot. Milk my fucking cock while you drip all over this bench.” Her orgasm began to ebb, leaving her trembling and oversensitive, but he gave her no quarter. He pulled out of her cunt with a slick, sucking pop, leaving her clenching at emptiness.
“Up. On your knees, facing me.” His voice brooked no argument. She pushed herself up, her arms wobbly, her enormous clit hanging heavy and glistening between her thighs. He sat on the edge of the bench, his cock standing thick and angry, beaded with her fluids and his own pre-cum. He gathered the long, fiery fall of her hair in his fist, not yanking, just holding possession. “Look at me, Maggie. Really look.”
Her green eyes, glassy with pleasure, focused on his. He saw the devotion there, the raw hunger he’d cultivated. It was what he needed. “Open your mouth.” She did, tongue lying flat in anticipation. He fed his cock into that wet heat slowly, watching her lips stretch, her throat work to accommodate him. “Good girl. Now keep those eyes open.”
He began to fuck her mouth with the same relentless pace he’d used on her cunt, shallow at first, then deeper, hitting the back of her throat until her eyes watered. She gagged, but she took it, her hands coming up to weakly clutch his thighs. “You love this,” he stated, pushing her head down further, his cock nudging her esophagus. “You love being used. You love what we’ve made you.”
He pulled her off by her hair, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening shaft. “Now, the main event.” He turned her roughly, pressing her chest back down to the leather, her ass high and offered. The puffy, dark rosebud of her anus was on full display, stretched wide around the thick base of the knotted toy, visibly fluttering. He picked up the anal spankers from the shelf—two flat, flexible paddles of dense silicone.
He tapped one against her left cheek, a teasing preview. “This pretty little hole is trying to hide. It can’t.” The first real swing cracked through the air, landing with perfect accuracy on the swollen rosette itself. The impact was electric, a bright, shocking sting that forced a choked scream from her lungs and made her entire body tense. The fluttering hole clenched violently, sucking the knot deeper for a second before the muscle rebelled, trying to expel it.
“See that?” Ben said, his voice thick with fascination. He spanked the other side of the target, another direct hit. Smack. Her ass jerked, the flesh reddening beautifully around the invading toy. “The knot forces it open. My spankers force it closed. It’s a war, and your ass is losing.” He set a rhythm now, alternating smacks, each one landing with unerring precision on the tortured, puffy ring of muscle.
Smack. Her hole clenched, swallowing silicone. Smack. It trembled, exposed. Smack. A tear tracked down her cheek, her cries muffled by the leather. “Please, Ben, please!”
“Please what? More?” Smack. “You want your brain fucked out through this ass?” Smack. “You want this clit,” he said, reaching under to roughly fondle the vibrating, two-foot length of her, making her buck, “to be so overloaded it’s just a dumb, happy animal?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes!”
He dropped the spankers. They thudded on the floor. He positioned himself behind her again, his cock finding her sloppy, used cunt, and slammed back into her in one devastating thrust. The force drove the knot even harder against his shaft inside her, a double-barreled fullness that stole her breath. He pistoned into her, hard and fast, his balls slapping a bruising rhythm against her throbbing ass.
His hands went back to her clit. He dominated it, one hand squeezing the base, the other working a slick, twisting fist over the engorged head. “This is your centre now. This stupid, beautiful cock you’ve grown. We’re gonna get you rigged, Magpie. Wires and nodes. So every time you move, you cum. So you can’t think around it.” He hammered into her, his voice a filthy, loving snarl in her ear. “Eight months of this. Your holes always stuffed. Mine, or a toy, or a fan’s. And this thing,” he twisted his fist, “always, always being played with. You’ll be a perfect, pregnant cum machine. Your world will be three feet long and throbbing.”
She was coming again, the sensation ripped from her, a raw, brutal orgasm that had no beginning or end, just a continuous electric current running from her battered asshole through her fucked cunt up into her tormented clit. She was babbling, promises, pleas, nonsense. He spanked her once more, right on the bullseye, as he emptied himself deep into her womb with a guttural roar, his cock pulsing against her cervix, claiming the space his child already occupied.
He stayed there, buried, as her tremors subsided into weak shivers. He gently withdrew the knotted toy, watching her exhausted hole slowly, reluctantly, contract to a mere hint of what it had endured. He turned off the vibrator on her clit. The sudden silence was louder than the screams.
“Perfect,” he whispered, kissing the hot, red skin of her ass. “You’re doing so perfect.” He helped her turn, guiding her to sit on the bench. She leaned into him, spent, her head on his shoulder, one hand instinctively drifting to the slight curve of her stomach, the other to the root of her sensitized, monumental clit. The promise hung in the air between them, sweet and depraved and utterly binding. It wasn’t a threat. It was a future. And she craved every filthy second of it.
And she craved every filthy second of it. The silence pooled around them, thick and syrupy, broken only by their ragged breathing. Ben’s hand, now gentle, stroked the sweat-damp fire of her hair where it fanned across his shoulder.
“You okay?” he murmured into her crown, his voice stripped of its commanding snarl, leaving just rough care.
“Mmm.” She nuzzled against him, her body a map of delicious aches. “Everything’s… humming.”
He smiled against her hair. “Good. That’s the point.” He shifted, helping her to lie back on the bench, her head cradled on a folded towel. “Don’t move. I want to look at my work.”
He fetched a warm, damp cloth and began to clean her with a clinical tenderness that contrasted violently with the previous hour. He dabbed at the mix of fluids smeared across her inner thighs, wiped the sheen from her monstrous clit, which even now twitched feebly at his touch. He inspected the reddened skin of her asshole, puffy and well-used, tracing the outline with a thumb that made her sigh.
“No lasting damage. Just a beautiful, well-spanked hole.” He tossed the cloth aside. “Now, the fun part.”
From a black equipment case, he withdrew a smaller, velvet-lined box. Inside, nestled in foam, were two delicate-looking devices: slim silver rings fitted with tiny, clear nodes, and a fine-gauge wire. “Told you I was going to rig you up. This is prototype one. Feedback loops.”
Maggie watched, fascinated, as he threaded one ring around the very base of her clit, where it met her mound. The metal was cool. The other he positioned mid-shaft. A faint, adhesive gel secured them. “These read muscle tension, pulse, temperature. The wire runs data.” He taped the hair-thin wire along her inner thigh, connecting to a small, flat processor he stuck to her hipbone. “It’s passive right now. Just listening.”
“What’s it listening for?” Her voice was hoarse.
“The language of this thing.” He tapped the silver ring. “When it gets hard, when it throbs, when it drips. We’re going to teach the system your arousal patterns. Then,” he said, meeting her eyes, “we can play them back to you. Amplify them. Loop them. So a five-second pulse of want becomes a five-minute feedback scream.”
“Jesus, Ben.”
“Not Jesus. Engineering.” He connected a final node just below her navel, on the gentle swell. “This one’s for the baby. Not for the kid, don’t look at me like that. It reads uterine contractions. Subtle ones. The kind that happen when you’re about to cum so hard you see stars.” He powered on the processor. A soft blue LED glowed on her hip. “There. Now you’re online.”
He helped her sit up. She felt the strange, minute weight of the gear, a cyborg intimacy. “It feels… weird.”
“You’ll get used to it. You’ll forget it’s there. Until I turn it on.” He pulled on his jeans, leaving his chest bare. “C’mon. Let’s get you some water. You’re drinking for two now, remember?”
He guided her out of the backroom, into the main lounge of The Velvet Cage. It was empty this early. Cool, dim light filtered through heavy drapes. She walked slowly, the fullness in her cunt a persistent, pleasant echo, the gear on her clit a secret whisper against her nerves. Ben handed her a bottle of cold water from a stainless-steel fridge. She drank greedily, leaning against the polished bar.
“The fans loved the suspension rig content,” Ben said casually, scrolling through his phone. “The numbers are insane. The pregnancy tag is… it’s a goldmine, Maggie. They’re obsessed with the belly. With the concept.”
“They want to see it grow.”
“They do. And they want to see what we do to you while it grows.” He looked up from the screen. “The futanari pair from last month messaged. They want a follow-up. They have… ideas. Involving the pregnancy. Involving their cocks and your changing center of gravity.”
A shiver that wasn’t fear went through her. The processor on her hip recorded it. “What kind of ideas?”
“The kind that require safety mats and a notary. We’ll discuss it.” He put his phone down and came around the bar to her. His fingers found the processor, toggled a switch. A faint, almost imperceptible vibration buzzed through the rings on her clit. It wasn’t stimulation. It was a presence.
“Feel that? That’s the system acknowledging a low-grade state of arousal. Your pulse down there increased by twelve percent when I mentioned their cocks.” He watched her face, a tech artist studying his living canvas. “Your body is telling its secrets, Maggie. Even before your mind catches up.”
He turned the setting up a notch. The vibration intensified into a soft, steady pulse, perfectly aligned with her own heartbeat. Her clit, exhausted and sensitized, began to stiffen again, swelling against the silver confines. “Oh, fuck. Ben.”
“See? It doesn’t need me to spank it or fuck it. It just needs me to remind it what it’s for.” He stepped closer, his bare chest brushing her nipples. His hand slid between her legs, over the wire, his fingers finding her cunt, which was still loose and slick from his earlier claim. He pushed two fingers back inside, easily. “Still so open. Still so mine.”
He crooked his fingers, pressing up. At the same moment, he used his thumb on the processor, sliding a control.
A sharp, brilliant charge of electricity, refined and targeted, shot through the rings on her clit. It wasn’t pain. It was pure, undistilled sensation, a lightning bolt of need that bypassed her nerves and went straight to her primal brain. Her back arched off the bar, a broken sound tearing from her throat. Her cunt clenched viscously around his fingers.
“That’s a feedback loop,” he whispered, his lips at her ear. “Your vaginal muscles clenched at eighty percent capacity. The system translated that into an acute stimulus for your clitoral nerve cluster. You just came from a fucking data point.”
He did it again. Another precise, shocking jolt of bliss. Her knees buckled. He held her up, his fingers still working inside her, now coated in fresh arousal. “And again. Your body is talking to itself. Learning to get off from its own reactions. This is how we wire you, Maggie. This is how we make you the perfect machine.”
He continued, a cruel, beautiful rhythm: the stretch of his fingers, the calculated, electric surge. She was panting, clinging to the bar, her mind blank, filled only with the cycle of clamp and shock, clamp and shock. Her clit was a rigid, throbbing rod, the metal rings heating with the energy passing through them.
“I’m gonna… I can’t…”
“You can. You will. Your limit is where I set it.” He pushed a third finger into her cunt, stretching her anew, and turned the intensity up. The charge was hotter, brighter. It sparked a chain reaction inside her, a rolling orgasm that had no peak, just a sustained, electrical whine vibrating through every cell. She shook, her toes curling against the cool floor, her free hand splaying over her lower belly as if to hold the convulsing reality inside.
He let it ride, watching the data stream on an app on his phone, a faint smile on his lips. Finally, he withdrew his fingers and dialed the system down to its passive, listening mode. She sagged against him, boneless, dripping onto the polished concrete floor.
“Good girl,” he breathed, holding her. “The first lesson is always the hardest. Your body is a quick learner.” He kissed her shoulder. “We’ll do another session tonight. Just a short one. While you sleep. To reinforce the pathways.”
The promise was absurd, terrifying, exhilarating. Her world was narrowing, beautifully, to the signals firing between her swollen cunt and her monumental, wired clit. To the data they created. To the man who controlled the translation. She nodded against his chest, her craving now a wired and programmatic thing, awaiting its next command. The future was not just filthy. It was algorithmic. And it was already inside her, growing, and listening.