Graviton Screamed

Photomanip by Piston Thorn. Caption by Mr. K.

She had moaned for hours. She had mewled and she had panted, gulping air and trying to form words of protest that only came out as a muttered “n .. no,” or “uhhhnnn.”

She clenched her jaw at one point, trying not to emit a sound at all, but a new surge up from her engorged womanplaces, pried her mouth open. She let go with a pathetic moan when that happened.

This time, though, she screamed. With her mouth wide and her eyes squeezed shut, she let out an animal howl. The power that swept through her demanded it, and the shame and anger that she felt did nothing to quell it.

Graviton screamed.

She strained against her ropes, which on any other given day she could have torn like tissue. She bucked against the metal chair that, on any other day, she could disassembled or hurled through the air with her gravity manipulation powers. She screamed and she howled in her helplessness.

Graviton looked down. She looked down into the crotch of her costume – where the yellow of her bodysuit met the purple of her leotard tights. They were always vivid, but now they almost glowed. Her thighs were soaked, the wet costume material shining with a dark wetness.

Graviton looked down to see the seat cushion soaked with a dark slick that consumed its material and dripped over the edge of the chair. She could see the puddle that surrounded her captivity chair.

Her scream was subsiding now, and her eyes were open. She could see what she had been feeling, the wide, powerful geyser of her juices shooting through the material of her costume. That last finger of juice was arching though the skintight yellow and purple, laying some of itself on the chair and rest of its mass on the tile of the floor below her.

They had bound her breasts tightly. Her big nipples were hard, jutting fiercely against the material of her costume. She couldn’t see her skin, but she knew that her breasts must have been purple. They had made it a point to twist the ropes tightly.

Graviton looked up. The camera still stared at her with its glowing red cyclopes eye. It seemed slightly antiquated with its turning lens and its long, black mechanical snout. It rotated, readjusting its focus, zooming in and out at her. There were moments, when she was shuddering and her head was sagging on her chest, that it would push forward and zoom in. It was as if it was scrutinizing to see whether she was still awake … or alive.

That is when he would speak.

“Graviton, are you awake? You okay, there? Ah. I heard you moan. You’re doing just fine.”

When she screamed, when the juice shot out of her like a faucet, he spoke up with a new verve.

“I like the way you just spurted. Did you know that that was your 98th orgasm of your captivity to me? Not 100. 98. Since I’ve had you like this – with your powers sapped and your body tied to that chair, I’ve forced to have 98 orgasms. One on top of the other. You know, you should appreciate this. Some women go through all of their lives never having one. Don’t think of it as torture. Ha! In the time that I’ve been talking, you’ve reached 103.”

Graviton screamed. Her legs shook and shuddered in their bonds as another shower sprayed out of her.

“So, you came here to rescue Maxim and got all ambushed. I just used The Frequency to knock you out and knock you down. I’m using it now to punish you with one orgasm after another. It must be excruciating at this point.”

Graviton screamed. It was as though her clit and her vulva had minds of their own. They were working like addicts, frantically to consume her from within as they gushed sex.

“I’m going to let you just sit there and cum for awhile. The Frequency will keep you cumming. This is your punishment Graviton. Wow. Look at the puddle you left on the floor. You are juicy girl. I’m filming everything. This will be on the market soon. Look, you just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Graviton screamed.