Chapter 327 Her Cock Night:>>23

• He reloaded the injector, inserted the tip into the cunt funnel and fired. "Fuck!" she yelled. He wished he could simultaneously shoot a hot load up her ass. He controlled her sucking by pulling the shoelaces. As he did with the tea clamps, he yanked on them rhythmically when he wanted her to deep throat him. She buried his shaft down her throatdesperate for him to cum as her crushed breasts were forced against the burning metal. Each time he pulled, he'd enjoy the sight of more cum oozing out of the funnels and running down the shoelaces. That view, plus her face against his pubic hair, was enough. Still yanking her nipples, he pushed back her head and spewed his load onto her contorted face as she came in unison, yelling "Fuck! Yeah! Do me!" and other words as she jumped and twisted frenziedly in the chair, banging the cunt funnel and anal carrot dildo into the seat of the stool.
• When he'd squirted the last of his discharge across her now-blank face, he turned off the coil but left the hot funnels to cool off on her chest. He photographed her for ten minutes, including the small river of juices pouring down the funnel in her cunt and onto the stool. She gritted her teeth in pain when he used the eraser tip of a pencil to force the raw, turgid nipples back inside the funnels. Then he rotated the still-warm coils off her greasy breasts, a mixture of oil and cum covering the reddened mounds, pulled the third funnel out of her grasping, sucking cunt, and removed the carrot from the depths of her bowel. She gasped in relief as the kitchen air-cooled her throbbing mammaries.
• He slapped her fully awake and removed the eye mask. She gazed at her abused, livid breasts and bound nipples as if they belonged to a stranger. "Don't wash your face or tits," Matt warned. "Leave the laces. Put on a blouse and skirt and make dinner." She trudged to the staircase, holding onto the railing to hoist herself upstairs. He thought he heard her moan of suffering from upstairs as she buttoned the tight blouse across her throbbing breasts. When she returned a couple of minutes later, he could see the two cum-slicked shoelaces beneath the fabric wet with oil and cum, the black leather cords extending down beneath the blouse. She looked disgustingly obscene. It was a clear admission of servitude: as his slut mother, her tits were his, and he could play with or abuse them any time he liked.