Shortly after Foxxy had crammed you into her shorts and buried you beneath her womanhood, you still found yourself unsure of your location. The pressure was suffocating, immense weight pushed you downward, and an organic heat penetrated your bare body. Your head had finally stopped spinning so you began to look closer at your surroundings.
The surface at your back was most definitely a heavy cloth, denim judging by the texture; however you now realized the cord as a twisted length of cloth, meant to unfold but obviously neglected. Some sort of metal teeth sat behind the cord, luckily shielded by the gnarled, damp cloth. Although you weren’t sure what the musky, damp object you were pressed against was it still seemed familiar. Its damp surface began to coat you in a warm, clinging slime, leaving your body somehow itchy and uncomfortable.
“What did you do with him, cow?” Clara’s voice was muffled, but her outrage was still palpable.
“It’s a challenge, remember tramp? And I don’t even have him, you do!” Low as Toot’s voice was, the denim reduced it to a nearly unintelligible burble.
The stink of earthy musk had gradually grown more prevelant, warm and thickly permeating the air. The humidity was unbearable, filling your mouth with a taste both repulsive and alluring. The spongy surface had shifted to enfold your body, two distinct flaps on either side of you. They sloped until they met at in a small knot which protruded so as one side of your face was firmly pressed against it by the ever present denim wall. A dull, monotonous pounding beat against your ear. A thought tickled in the back of your mind, but it didn’t quite solidify.
Dismissing the thought, you decided to take a chance and shift around, trying to access your range of movement. You could shuffle most of your body slightly, but you doubted you could slip free with all the pressure against you. However, you were delighted to discover that the pressure lessened around your feet. The delight soon turned to shock, however, as your prison suddenly jolted and Foxxy’s voice thrummed through you body.
“Enough!” She said. “Foxxy’s tired of you two always getting at each other’s throats over these challenges.”
It wasn’t her voice itself which shocked you, but the way it penetrated you. While it sounded from above, far closer than either of the other voices, it was the way in which it resonated through the spongy surface that caused you fear. The spongy folds were a part of her!
Your mind raced. The musk, the moisture, the hugging lips, and the steady pulsation which continued to thrum throughout the swelling structure slammed together with that itch at the back of your mind to paint a picture of your prison. With a growing sense of dread, you became sure of two things; One, Foxxy was your captor. And two, the sticky substance coating your body wasn’t water.
“Look who’s all nice and calm after all the ruckus broke out, how do we know you don’t have him,” Toot’s words were lost on you as you panic continued to rise.
Before you could calm yourself, Foxxy’s womanhood pulsed. The sudden movement causing your body to slide downward, trapping your head within her folds and cutting off your air supply. A primal fear of drowning sent you into a maddening panic as you fought with all of your might to tear your head free.
All sound save the growing pulse of blood and the unintelligible buzz of Foxxy’s voice were stolen from you as your head remained ensnared. Fear blinded you as you flailed and writhed to free your head. The lips around you pulsed on occasion, even in your panic reminding you of your location. Your desperate struggles failed to have an impact, save the gradual increase of the rate of the dull thrum and amount of in feminine fluids.
Violently, you continued to struggle. Your panic lessening as a dull tiredness filled your vision. Had there been any light, it would surely have been eclipsed out by the dark spots that would have filled your vision. Then the unexpected happened; a crushing spasm shook the quivering flesh, allowing one desperate gasp before your were once again smothered.
The breath was enough to renew your struggles. You kicked out, feeling resistance on your foot and a throb through the flesh. You punched, striking flesh which yielded like dense fabric. Your squirmed, and struggled, until once again the walls around you thrashed, granting you another gasp of air.
You continued like this for what felt like an eternity. The desperate fight not to suffocate filled your mind. Panic granted you strength you had never known you had, until you noticed the spasms coming more frequently and air becoming more and more prevalent.
You had hope of survival until disaster struck. As exhaustion started to take you another spasm struck. However, when you opened your mouth for air, vaginal juice filled it instead. You were filled with an exhausted panic. Would all of your struggles be for naught, only to drown after so much effort?
With a steely determination, you put up one last struggle. You strained with all of your being, fighting to survive, fighting not to drown in this dark, tight pit; and as you fought, the throbbing walls seemed to go insane as a series monstrous pounding ripped through your reality.
Your tiny body way shaken by its intensity, and you were crushed with such intensity. The hot flesh gripped you, clawed at you, refusing to release its prize. You were nearly unconscious as it finally began to subside. The thrumming folds weakly loosened and you weakly removed your head from their grasp, gasping for air. You had never felt so tired as you lie there, soothed by the dull thrum of Foxxy’s heart beat. “Fine then, so long as we have an understanding.” Clara’s words were the last words you heard before your world began to sway. Foxxy's steps rocked you as she drunkenly swayed towards her room.
As Foxxy unknowingly soothed you with the swaying of her walk, you began to relax. You were exhausted from your struggles against the monstrous womanhood and your near death trial. To think, you had almost been smothered by some black chick, and solely through the forces of her climax. What would it be like when she turned her full attention upon you, free of distraction?
The thought was too much. The exhaustion, the swaying, and the warmth of Foxxy’s wet flesh pressed against you was too much. You passed out.