The Doll with a Dislocated Jaw and a White Milk Injection
"Hah... hahk! Nngh...!"
The wet slap of flesh on flesh filled the hospital room without pause. Na-bi's legs trembled against the mattress, kicking weakly at empty air. Three of the Director's fingers churned inside her cunt, scraping her inner walls, twisting, driving deep — and every thrust arched her spine like a drawn bow.
"Stop...... I'm going to die...... please......"
Her pupils rolled white. This was not pleasure. It was electric torture, a current set loose to burn her nerves from the inside. Beast-like cries tore from her throat as she gasped as if her breath itself were dying. If this went on, her heart would burst, or the shock would kill her outright. Even a body bound by Indomitable offered no promise that she would come back once her breathing stopped.
"I'm sorry...... I'll do anything...... please stop......"
Her hands shook as she seized the Director's wrist. She clung to him. She wanted to live.
"I'll...... I'll do it for you...... with my mouth...... with my hands...... I'll do everything......"
She begged through tears. The Director's fingers went still. He looked down at her, one eyebrow climbing with interest.
"Oh?"
He drew his soaked fingers from her cunt with unhurried care. A long thread of clear fluid mixed with semen stretched between them, gleaming.
"At this point, one might call that an invitation."
He took her chin and turned her face from side to side. A face glazed with tears, cheeks flushed dark, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. And below, her naked body, legs still spread, cunt dripping.
"Consider your attire. Consider the words you just spoke. One could hardly tell you apart from a bitch in heat."
"Nngh...... I'm sorry......"
Shame bowed her head, but she could not refuse him. The Director sat on the edge of the bed and spread his legs. Then he took out his cock.
Na-bi's eyes flew wide. This was nothing like the glimpse she had caught before. Erect, it was a weapon well over eight inches long, a monstrous thing. The purplish glans at its head, mapped with writhing veins, was the size of a child's fist. That... inside me?
"Well? You said you would do it for me."
The Director's voice was mild, impatient. Na-bi swallowed against a dry throat and reached out with a trembling hand. Heat kissed her palm. It was hard, and heavy.
She wrapped both hands around the shaft. It was too thick for one. She began to stroke, slow and careful, up and down, skin whispering against skin.
"Faster."
"Y-yes......"
She quickened her pace, thumb circling the slit of the glans, palms dragging down the column of flesh. A low sound escaped the Director's mouth. Relief flickered through her. If she could satisfy him like this, perhaps she could at least be spared the pain.
She was wrong.
"Far too slow."
His hand fisted in her hair.
"I'll have to educate you properly."
He yanked her face into his groin. The massive glans pressed against her lips.
"Open."
The instant her mouth parted, he snapped his hips and drove the head inside.
Her mouth was full at once — a dense, crushing weight pinning her tongue. It was not enough for him. One hand clamped around the joint of her jaw.
A hideous crack.
"Aagh?!"
The sound of rupture, and her jaw came apart. Lightning lanced from the hinge beneath her ear. Her mouth was forced wide, hanging, and she could not close it. She clawed for her own jaw in a flood of tears, but the Director gave her no interval.
"There. A little more room to work with."
He buried his cock to the root in the slack, dangling hole of her mouth.
With two fingers he roughly tugged her lower lip, hanging loose on its dislocated hinge, until the interior of her mouth lay fully exposed. Stretched until the gums showed, the opening no longer resembled a human mouth so much as a hole torn through a slab of meat.
"I was beginning to think I'd have to split your mouth open to fit. Dislocate the jaw, however, and the size is just right. Excellent elasticity."
He set the head of his cock on her lolling tongue with something like satisfaction. The scalding glans crushed the papillae flat. Na-bi tried, by instinct, to wrench her head back — but with her jaw dislocated she could not even scream. All that came out was a thick, animal uhb-uhb-uhh...
Pressure. The huge glans shoved past her uvula. Terror as her airway sealed. Capillaries burst in her eyes, flooding them red. And this was only the beginning.
A grind. A crunch.
As the thickest midsection of his cock tried to pass her lips, the ligaments around the dislocated joint stretched to their limit and screamed. The jawbone ground against the nerve cluster near her ear, and a burning, searing agony bloomed. In a pain so white it strobed across her vision, Na-bi heard the phantom sound of her own facial bones pulverizing.
"Nnnnngh! Ghk-k-k!"
"Relax. Unless you'd prefer I shatter the joint."
The warning was clinical, almost bored. He drove his hips up without mercy. His cock forced the narrow sphincter at the mouth of her esophagus, scraped down the soft mucosa, and bored deeper, still deeper, toward her stomach.
It was not merely a foreign object. It was the hideous sensation of an organ being invaded in reverse, from the wrong direction. Every time the veins ridging the shaft rasped along the inner wall of her esophagus, her body jerked as if electrocuted.
A wet gulp. A swallow. The sound of her esophagus writhing as it tried to take him. Clear snot ran from Na-bi's nose in a sheet. She could not swallow her own saliva; it sheeted down the shaft of his cock and soaked his groin.
The Director savored the wet sounds and the tight, convulsive grip of her esophagus. One hand locked on the back of her skull, pinning her, and he began to piston in earnest.
"Ghhk! Khk! Nngh!"
Each thrust sent the glans slamming deep into her esophagus — a dull, heavy knock, as if he were striking the space beside her heart. Her entire ribcage rang with the impact. Her dislocated jaw wobbled freely, rattling, and the clack of bone mixed with the slap of flesh into a grotesque dissonance.
He drove in. He dragged out. He drove in again.
"Ghhk! Khk! Nnnn——!"
Her airway was gone. The rigid column had punched through her throat and into her esophagus. Na-bi's eyes rolled. She could not breathe. Her uvula was crushed; the lining of her esophagus felt as if it were tearing.
The Director took her hair in his fist and rocked her head back and forth, using her mouth the way one uses a hole. Spit and gastric fluid drooled from the corners of her lips and soaked his thighs.
"Yes...... the tightness is excellent......"
His breathing roughened. His hips accelerated. He hammered the deepest part of her throat, knock after knock.
"Mmph! Nnnnph! Uekh!"
Na-bi gagged and thrashed. But her jaw hung useless; she could neither close her mouth nor bite down. All she could do was hold her throat open and take it.
A thick, wet pulse.
"Swallow."
Hot fluid fired directly into the lining of her esophagus. The volume was enormous. Her throat convulsed. A raw, nauseating stench flooded her nose and mouth.
He did not pull out. He pinched her nostrils shut. If she wanted to breathe, she would have to swallow.
Gulp. Gulp.
"Nngh...... khh......"
She forced the semen down. The sensation of the viscous fluid sliding down her esophagus and into her stomach was hideously, vividly clear. Only then did he release her nose.
Na-bi collapsed to the floor, hacking. Her jaw still hung open, so the semen she had failed to swallow ran from the corner of her mouth in a thick rope. Tears, spit, and semen glazed her face into something wrecked.
Hell was not finished with her.
"We're far from done."
He presented his cock to her again, already erect. He had come only moments ago, and still it swelled, vicious and undiminished. The stamina of a monster.
"Get up. Open your mouth."
Na-bi shook her head and scrambled backward. She wanted to run. She wanted to tear through the wall itself if she had to. The Director caught her by the ankle and dragged her back.
This time he braced her throat against the headboard, tipping her head until her airway lay in a single straight line — the posture that would take him deepest, and hurt her most.
A wet drive. A crunch of flesh.
"GAAAAAAAAH——!!!!!!"
The scream died against his cock, smothered into silence. He fucked her throat without a shred of mercy. Her pharynx swelled and tore; blood welled along the shaft. He did not care.
He drove her to the brink of asphyxiation, and when her eyes went slack he pulled out for a breath of time.
"Hah... hah... khk..."
The instant she dragged air into her lungs as if drowning, he used the interval to toy with the mouth of her cunt, fingers rolling and pinching. A wet, filthy squelch.
"Dripping down below as well. How thoroughly lewd."
Above, the terror of suffocation. Below, pleasure forced into her against her will. Na-bi's mind came apart in pieces. Before she could finish catching her breath, the massive column invaded her mouth again.
"Mmph! Ghk!"
Again. And again. She lost count of how many times he spent himself. Her stomach was heavy with semen; the inside of her mouth was raw, shredded to rags. The joint of her jaw had gone numb some time ago.
"Kh...... coming!"
He slammed in to the hilt one last time and came. This time he pulled free and painted her face.
A long, shuddering pulse. A spat. A drip.
White, cloudy fluid splashed across her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the wreck of her open mouth. Na-bi did not move. She was gone, fully unconscious.
The Director caught his breath and put himself away. He looked down at the face glazed in his semen and clicked his tongue.
"Tsk, tsk. Passing out already, and this was only the first lesson."
He licked the semen from her cheek, a single, unhurried stroke of his tongue.
"Pathetic."
He fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom and began, with painstaking care, to clean her unconscious body. He wiped the semen from her face. He eased her jaw back into its socket with delicate, precise pressure.
A dull click of bone seating home.
"......Nnh."
A faint sound escaped her, but she did not wake. He washed the sweat from her skin and smoothed ointment over the swollen mouth of her cunt and the bruises on her breasts. His hands were thorough, almost tender — the hands of a man repairing a toy he had broken.
"Tomorrow is Day One, after all. You may look forward to it."
He dressed her, now clean, in a fresh hospital gown, laid her on the bed, and drew the blanket to her chin.
That was not the end. The Director dragged the empty bed from beside them, set it flush against hers, and locked the frames together.
A heavy click.
He lay down on his own mattress — the place beside her — and reached out, gathering her limp body into his arms. He settled her head against his chest and tangled their legs. It might have looked like lovers sharing a bed. For Na-bi, it was a cell.
"Sleep well. Please don't break. Though perhaps breaking would be easier on us both."
He kissed her forehead. Then, with her waist held firmly in the circle of his arm, he closed his eyes. In the dark, the faint tap... tap... of his ball-jointed fingers traveled the length of her spine.