...et out a soft whimper, shaking her head, afraid that it would slither down her throat. It seemed a little more than an inch thick, perhaps one and a half. It was not so thick that her jaw was uncomfortably stretched open, but she knew that if her jaw was kept like this for longer than a little while, it would become sore.
It drew back a little and wiggled around and she whimpered softly. It paused, then thrust in and out slowly, going near the back of her throat with each thrust, but no further. She pressed her tongue against its underside and started to suck on it, knowing nothing else she could do with her mouth at the moment. It tensed for a bit then wiggled around again, as if showing its approval and she was rewarded with a few more drops of the sweet liquid. As she continued sucking, it resumed its thrusting, going at a slow and languorous pace, beading a bit more of its fluid at intervals as if to encourage her.
The tentacle around her middle loosened, and before she could react, her robe was yanked down, ripping again as the fabric was rent in more places. She gave out a muffled cry and bit down. That tentacle tensed and stilled, as if it was startled by the bite. She looked down, leaning her head as much as she could to see the robe lying on the grass, torn badl...