Chapter 51: The Filming of a Ruin
The chrome housing whined its high, thin note, still spinning. Evonleigh's body trembled on the platform, her thighs slick, her breath coming in ragged, animal gasps. Milk beaded at the stretched tips of her nipples, the cylinders still sealed over her breasts, the motors ticking down into a low rumble.
Aurelian stepped back, wiping her fluid from his jaw with the back of his hand. He looked at her, splayed and ruined, and smiled. Then he walked to the far wall and returned with a tripod.
He set it up with deliberate care. The camera he mounted was sleek, matte black, professional. He adjusted the height, then angled the lens down until it hovered inches from the platform. The macro lens was a fat, glassy eye, and he was positioning it directly over Evonleigh's groin.
"No," she whispered. Her voice had gone hoarse. "Aurelian, don't."
He ignored her. He leaned into the camera's monitor, fiddled with the focus. The image on the small screen zoomed in on the chrome housing, on the dark, engorged mass of her clit still swelling visibly through the viewing port. He smiled, crooked, hungry.
"Perfect." He straightened, stepping behind the camera. "One last calibration, baby. Dr. Guerin's got her data, but I want some of my own. Private stock."
Evonleigh's hips bucked weakly against the restraints. Her wrists and ankles had gone numb. "I can't. I can't anymore. Please."
"Nonsense. You've got plenty left." He reached down and ran a thumb along the top of the chrome housing. She shrieked, her body arching off the platform. "See? Sensitive little thing. And look at that." He angled the monitor so she could see. Her clit, dark and swollen, pulsed visibly within the sleeve. "It's getting fatter. Greedier. It knows what's coming."
Dr. Guerin watched from the console, her tablet held loosely at her side. She made a small considering sound. "The engorgement is persistent. Capillary recruitment remains elevated. She could sustain a prolonged stimulus program." A pause. "Do you want this recorded properly, or your amateur voyeur work?"
"Properly." Aurelian shot her a grin. "Hook your equipment into the primary feed. I want every angle."
Dr. Guerin walked to the wall panel and tapped a sequence. Red lights blinked. The camera's lens whirred as its focus re-synced. "Primary feed engaged. Full-spectrum capture."
Aurelian turned the focus ring one more notch, his tongue sliding across his lips. "There. Crystal clear."
He came back to the platform, stood over her.
He came back to the platform, stood over her. His shadow fell across her groin, and she whimpered, her hips twitching before she could stop them. The chrome housing still hummed, the pressure band around her clit a dull, insistent pulse.
"Watch the screen, baby." He angled the monitor toward her face. "Look at it. That fat little button, all swollen and purple. It looks like it wants more. It looks like it's begging.
The chrome housing hummed against her, a low, patient pulse. Evonleigh stared at the monitor, at that swollen dark mass of flesh, and felt something twist in her gut. It wasn't fear. It was hunger.
"Training." The word came out as a cracked whisper. Her hips rolled of their own accord, the slick sound of her own wetness audible in the hum of the room. "You mean... you're going to train my clit?"
Aurelian's eyes glittered. He saw the shift in her, the way her breathing changed, the way her thighs parted wider. "That's right, baby. I'm going to overstimulate that fat little shaft until it's so sensitive you can't think straight. Until every breath makes it twitch. I'm going to force orgasm after orgasm out of that bitch of a button until you're a drooling, squealing mess."
She moaned, long and low, her head falling back. "Fuck. Yes. Train it. Please."
Dr. Guerin's eyebrows lifted a fraction, but she said nothing, only adjusted the feed.
Aurelian moved to a cabinet at the far wall. It slid open with a hiss, revealing rows of gleaming instruments. He returned with an armful. Vibrators of every shape, a coiled leather crop, a wand with a powerful motor, a thin steel rod with a ribbed tip. He laid them out on a tray beside the platform, arranged with ceremonial care.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said, picking up the wand. He flicked it on. The hum was deep, primal. He pressed it against his own palm, then held it an inch from her engorged clit. She gasped, the heat radiating from it washing over her hypersensitive skin. "I'm going to use all of these on your greedy little cock. I'm going to make it pulse and stretch and get so hard it stands up tall and proud. And you are not allowed to cum until I say so."
Her eyes went wide. "What? No, I can't—"
He pressed the wand directly onto the chrome housing. The vibration traveled through the metal, straight into her tormented clit. She shrieked, her body bowing, her cunt clenching around nothing. "Yes you can. You will. Because when I finally let you cum, it's going to be the most violent, squirting mess you've ever had. And the camera will catch every second."
He moved the wand in slow circles over the housing, the vibration pulsing into her swollen flesh. Her breath came in frantic hitches. The clit visibly surged within the viewing port, darkening further, stretching the sleeve tighter. "Look at it, Evie. Look how hard it's getting. You've got such a fat, needy clit. It wants to be touched. It wants to be abused."
"Please," she begged, her hips bucking into the wand. "Please, I need to cum. It's too much."
"Not yet." He set the wand down, picked up a bullet vibrator. It was small, fierce. He pressed it against the base of the housing, where her clit emerged from her body. The high-frequency buzz drilled into her. She screamed, scrabbling at the restraints. "That's it. Feel that? That's your clit waking up. It's been asleep all your life. Now it's going to live."
He swapped the bullet for the ribbed steel rod. He traced its tip along the housing, tapping it lightly against the port. Each tap sent a jolt through her. Her thighs trembled with the effort of holding still. "You're going to beg me for the crop soon. I know you will. Your fat little button is going to be so swollen and desperate that you'll want the sting."
"No," she gasped, even as her hips lifted. "I won't."
He smiled. He reached for the wand again, switched it to its highest setting, and clamped it directly onto the housing. The vibration rattled through her bones. Her eyes rolled back. A thin stream of slick escaped her cunt, splattering onto the steel. "Won't what, baby? Won't beg? Won't cum? You're already soaking the platform. Look at that greedy pussy drooling for attention."
The wand moved. It traced circles around the housing, then drove straight down onto the most sensitive point. Evonleigh's scream tore raw. Her clit engorged impossibly further, thick and distended, pressing against the viewing port like it was trying to escape. "OH FUCK! IT'S TOO BIG! IT'S SO FUCKING BIG!"
"That's it." Aurelian's voice dropped, low and intimate, meant for the camera as much as for her. "Stretch it tall. Let that fat shaft stand up and beg. You're a cock slut, Evie. You just have the wrong cock. This one's all yours."
He traded the wand for the crop.
He traded the wand for the crop, then set it down untested. Instead he reached for the chrome housing, his fingers finding the release latches on the side.
"Wait," Evonleigh breathed. "What are you—"
The housing came away with a soft hiss of pressure. Cold air hit her exposed clit and she screamed. It stood there, bare and monumental, a thick, distended shaft of dark purple flesh rising from the slick pink folds of her cunt. It was longer than her thumb, swollen to an obscene thickness, the crown glistening with her own slick. It pulsed visibly, a fat, erect cock of pure nerve ending.
"There she is." Aurelian's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "There's the real you, Evie. Look at it."
He angled the monitor toward her face. The macro lens zoomed in. Her clit filled the screen, every vein, every ridge, every trembling pulse of the engorged shaft captured in brutal detail. She stared at it, her own flesh, monstrous and alive.
"Do you want me to touch it, baby?" His fingers hovered an inch from the crown.
"Yes." The word tore from her before she could stop it.
"Say it properly."
"Please. Please touch my clit. Please make it bigger."
He grinned. He took the crown between thumb and forefinger, pinching gently, and pulled. The clit stretched, elongating further under his manipulation, the shaft drawing out until it stood thick and tall, a proud, rigid column. She howled, her hips thrusting up into his grip.
"Fuck, look at that. You want this fat thing trained, don't you? Want it hard and thick and obvious, something everyone can see pulsing between your legs?"
"Yes! God, yes! Train it! Make it so big and hard, I want it to be so obvious, I want it to beg!"
He laughed, low and dirty. "Begging already? I haven't even started."
He turned to the tray and came back with an armful of new instruments. A thin vibrator wand with a pinpoint tip, a forked vibrating attachment, two small bullet vibes on flexible arms. He arranged them around her splayed thighs with methodical care. The forked attachment he positioned so its twin prongs cradled the shaft from both sides. The pinpoint wand he aimed directly at the crown. A third device, a thin ringing band of black silicone, he held up for her to see.
"This is going on the base." He worked it over the engorged root of her clit, the tight ring sliding down until it cinched snug where her flesh met her body. The pressure was immediate, a snug, constricting band. Her clit surged forward, forced to stand even more erect, dark with trapped blood. "This little ring is going to keep you hard. Keep you standing tall and proud and begging. Ready. Waiting. Everything I want you to be."
Evonleigh stared down at it, her breath hitching. Her clit stood thick and rigid, a fat, unmistakable target, the ring at its base forcing every pulse of blood into the swollen shaft. It was the most obscene thing she had ever seen, and she loved it.
"Please," she heard herself say, and her voice was already wrecked. "Please don't make me wait anymore. Hit it. Touch it. Fuck it. I want it so bad."
He leaned into the camera, adjusting the lens one final millimeter. Then both vibrators came on at once.
The forked prongs buzzed violently against the sides of her clit while the pinpoint wand drilled into the crown with a brutal, concentrated intensity. Her scream drowned in the motor's whine. Her hips bucked, but the restraints held her thighs wide open, her legs unable to close, everything laid out bare and vulnerable for the lens.
"That's it, baby." He watched her convulse, his own cock straining against his trousers. "That's my good little target. You just lie there and take it while I abuse this fat shaft."
He picked up the crop. The leather tip tapped lightly against the swollen crown, and her whole body seized. "No, no, no, fuck, don't—"
He tapped again, harder. The tip cracked against the engorged flesh. Pleasure and pain detonated together, white-hot. Her cunt gushed, soaking the platform.
"Don't what?" He tapped again. "Don't make it harder? Don't make it fatter?" He flicked the tip across the crown, and she shrieked, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth. "You want this cock trained, Evie, then you take what training gives you."
He dropped the crop. He wrapped his fist around the shaft, the cock ring biting into his fingers, and pumped once, twice, the full length of her fat clit sliding through his grip while the vibrators roared on either side. Her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled. The monitor showed everything: the monstrous distended shaft, the tight ring at its base, the slick, gaping cunt beneath it endlessly producing more fluid.
"Look at yourself," he whispered, his voice now aimed at the lens. "Look at that fat clit standing up and begging for it. Hold it right there, baby. Hold it hard for the camera."
She couldn't speak. She could only moan, her head thrown back, her legs twitching uselessly against the cuffs as his fist worked her clit in a steady, brutal rhythm. The vibrators kept battering her from both sides, the pinpoint wand never leaving the crown.
He pumped faster. Her body began to convulse, the orgasm building like a seismic event.
"Don't cum yet," he warned. "I want to hear you beg for it first."
His fist worked her shaft, thick and slick with her own wetness, pumping the length of it through his grip. The sounds she made were barely human, wet sobs and broken vowels, her back arched so hard the tendons stood out in her throat. The forked prongs vibrated against the sides of the clit in a constant, buzzing torrent, and the pinpoint wand drilled into the crown, relentless.
"You're so close," he said, not a question. "I can feel it twitching. That fat little cock of yours is begging to blow."
She nodded frantically, her jaw slack, drool running down her cheek onto the steel platform. "Please please please. Please let me. I'll do anything."
He pumped her clit faster. The shaft slid through his grip, the cock ring at its base holding everything rigid and tall, dark with trapped blood. Then he picked up the crop with his free hand. The leather tip tapped the crown, light as a feather. Her hips bucked.
"No, stay still." He tapped again, Firmer. She moaned, high and desperate. "You want it to cum, you take the sting first. That's the deal, Evie."
He tapped the crown three times in quick succession, the leather flicking across the swollen, distended head. Pain and pleasure fused, white-hot, and her cunt gushed, fluid arcing across the platform. His fist kept pumping, harder, faster, the shaft sliding through his grip in a brutal rhythm while the crop came down on the crown again, a sharp crack that sent electricity through her entire body.
"Fuck, yes!" she screamed, her knees drawing up against the cuffs. "Do it again! Fuck! Make it harder!"
He obliged. He set the crop rhythmically against the crown, a steady tattoo of sharp, stinging hits timed to the pump of his fist. Each crack made the shaft jerk, made her body convulse, made fresh fluid spray from her spasming cunt.
He reached down with his free hand and switched the wand to its highest frequency. The buzz went from deep to piercing, a wasp's drone filling the room. He pressed it directly against the shaft, the vibration drilling into the already abused flesh, and her scream tore her throat raw.
"That's it," he growled, pumping harder, faster, the crop cracking against the tip. "That's my good little cock-sleeve. You want it bigger, don't you? Want it longer? Want it to stand up so tall and proud it's all anyone can see?"
"Yes! God, yes!" she wept, her body a live wire.
He stopped pumping. He released the shaft and instead took the crown between thumb and forefinger, pinching hard. The vibrator stayed pressed against the underside. He pulled. The clit stretched, the ring at its base resisting, holding it firm while he drew the shaft out to an impossible length. It elongated, thick and dark, standing straight up from her body like a monument. On either side, the vibrators kept roaring, and the pinpoint wand drilled into the tip.
Her huge tits heaved with each ragged breath. Milk wept from the edges of the cylinder seals, thin white rivulets running down her ribs, pooling on the steel. The cylinders were still mounted, the suction still active, and with every shudder of her body more milk leaked through the seals, smearing obscenely across her chest.
He pulled her clit out further. She howled. The shaft stretched, skin taut, every ridged vein visible in the macro lens. She could see it on the monitor, her own flesh drawn out long and thick and desperate, the cock ring biting at the root, milk streaming from the massive tits above.
"Hold it here," he ordered. "Hold it nice and long for the camera."
Her body obeyed, locked in the stretch, trembling. The wand roared against the underside, max frequency drilling into her.
He brought the crop down on the stretched, rigid crown. Once. Twice. Three times, sharp and hard.
She came apart.
The crop cracked against the crown and she came apart, her body snapping like a whip, cunt erupting in a violent spray that caught the macro lens full-on. On the monitor, her distended clit shuddered, dark and rigid, every vein visible, the shaft twitching in spasms so violent the cock ring at its base seemed to strain.
Aurelian watched the display with reverence. He didn't blink. He pumped her through it, his fist sliding along the slick shaft while the vibrators roared, dragging the orgasm out until her screams had gone hoarse. Milk sheeted down her ribs from the cylinder seals, mingling with the sweat pooling beneath her.
"Look at that," he breathed, his lips inches from the camera's microphone. "Every single spasm. Every twitch of that fat, needy button. The camera's got it all, Evie. Every drop of your greed."
She lay panting, her eyes rolled back, her body still twitching through aftershocks. The clit stood tall and dark between her spread thighs, the ring holding it rigid, the crown glistening. It pulsed. Even in exhaustion, it pulsed.
"More," she heard herself rasp, and the word came from somewhere beneath her ruined dignity. "Please. I want it to spasm for you again."
He smiled down at her, then angled the camera's monitor toward her face. "Of course you do. That's what you are now, isn't it? A little target. Just a fat, swollen clit and a cunt that won't stop leaking."
She nodded frantically. His praise hit her like a drug.
He reached for the tray. The instruments gleamed under the sterile lights. He selected a new toy, a heavy glass wand curved at the tip, its surface ridged in concentric rings. He swirled it through the air once, testing its weight.
"This one," he said, bringing it into frame, holding it up for the lens, "is going to make you cum until your cunt's running dry. And then I'm going to make you cum some more."
He switched the vibrators back on. The forked prongs buzzed against the sides of her clit, the pinpoint wand resumed its drill against the crown. Her hips bucked, a fresh moan tearing from her throat. He ran the glass wand along the underside of the shaft, the ridges catching on her slick flesh, dragging slow, deliberate pressure from root to crown.
"Feel that?" He kept his voice low, pitched for the microphone. "Feel how hard it's getting? That's your clit begging for more. That's that fat little cock of yours standing tall and proud, saying, look at me, look at how big I am."
She wept through it, her jaw slack, drool pooling on the steel platform. The wand dragged, the vibrators roared, and her clit surged, thickening further within the macro frame. The ring bit deep. The crown flushed an even darker, angrier purple.
He brought the glass wand down in a slow, deliberate arc, tapping the ridged tip against the crown. She screamed, her back bowing off the platform. Her cunt gushed, a fresh torrent of fluid splashing the steel and arcing toward the lens.
"There it is." He tapped again, softer this time, and she whimpered, hips twitching. "Look at that. One tap and she sprays like a fountain. You'd think I was milking you dry."
He set the wand down and picked up the crop. The leather tip traced a slow circle around the crown, so light she could barely feel it, but her body knew. Her thighs trembled against the restraints. The clit swelled visibly, straining against the ring.
"No," she whispered, even as her hips lifted toward it. "Please, not yet. I'm still sensitive from the last one."
"Exactly." He flicked the crown, a sharp, clean snap. Her scream pitched high, her cunt convulsing, squirting in a violent burst that painted the camera lens. "You're going to stay sensitive. You're going to stay right on the edge. I'm going to keep you there until the only thing you can think about is that fat bastard of a clit and my crop on it."
He wiped the lens clean with a cloth, then resumed the program. A new toy, a long slim vibrator with a corkscrew texture. He slid it along her shaft, the corkscrew catching on her slick skin, twisting as it moved. The forked prongs kept their steady buzz, the pinpoint wand drilled, and he worked the corkscrew in slow circles around the crown.
Her second orgasm hit within minutes, violent and unexpected, her body convulsing so hard the platform rattled. The spray caught the lens mid-flight, a crystal spray of slick that the camera captured in perfect detail. Her clit engorged further, if such a thing were possible, the shaft standing thick and tall, drooling a thin bead of pre-cum from the swollen tip.
"Beautiful," Aurelian breathed, his eyes fixed on the monitor. "Look at that. It's getting fatter. It's getting longer. It's learning. That's what training is, Evie. Your greedy little cock learning how to beg."
He didn't let up. He kept the vibrators on, kept the crop flicking at the crown in sharp, stinging intervals, forcing her through orgasm after orgasm. The third one came quickly, a shuddering, sobbing release that left her gasping for air. The fourth was a long, grinding wave that she floated through, her mind gone blank white. The fifth came before she'd even recovered from the fourth, a violent convulsion that drained her completely.
On the monitor, the camera captured everything: the hard, dark shaft, rigid and swollen, the crown pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat, the folded wet lips of her cunt beneath it, gaping, dripping, endlessly producing. He zoomed in further until her clit filled the frame entirely, every ridge, every vein, every micro-spasm caught in brutal, unforgiving detail.
"Tell me, Evie." He aimed his voice at the mic, soft and intimate. "Who does this clit belong to?"
She could barely form words. Her tongue lolled, her eyes glassy. "You. It's yours. It's all yours. Please, please make it cum again."
"That's right." He stroked the shaft with one finger, a feather-light touch that made her whole body clench. The ring held her rigid, the trapped blood darkening the flesh. "It's my toy. My swollen, greedy toy. And I want to see it spasm for the camera again."
He picked up the crop. She watched it come down, her eyes fixed on the leather tip, her lips parted, drunk on anticipation.
He cracked it across the crown, hard.
She came apart. The orgasm detonated with a violence that tore a scream from a throat already shredded raw. Her cunt erupted, a pressurized jet of fluid slamming into the camera's lens, spraying the monitor, drenching the steel platform. Her clit convulsed in the frame, the shaft jerking in frantic, uncontrollable spasms, the crown distending further with every pulse of her heart.
Aurelian watched the monitor, his face split in a hungry grin. The camera held the shot, unwavering, capturing every violent tremor as her body shook itself apart. On the platform, Evonleigh lay still, her chest heaving, her milk-swollen breasts shivering with each ragged breath.
"Good girl," he whispered. "Now we're going to do that again. And again. And again, until your fat little clit is so ruined and so swollen it can't stand up anymore."
Her hand, weakly, reached down toward her own drenched, abused flesh.
"Please," she managed, her voice a broken thing. "Please. Don't stop."
He looked at her, at the greedy way her hips rolled, the desperate hunger in her ruined voice, and he understood with a dark, curling satisfaction that he had already broken her into something new.
He reached for the camera and adjusted the focus ring one more notch. The lens whirred, sharpening onto the swollen, pulsing target.
"Perfection," he said, and the camera kept rolling.