Clayed In The Face (Patreon)

Barbara groaned. Her wrists hurt, clamped by the iron manacles she hung from. By stretching her legs, she could touch her toes to the concrete floor of the sewer, relieving her arms of some of her body weight. But she could only stand doing that for a few minutes before her calves and thighs knotted with the effort, hurting her worse than her overexerted arms.

Another groan rose from beside her. Barbara turned her head, still not sure she believed her eyes.

There was Selina, as naked as Barbara was. Hanging beside her. The blonde was shorter; she couldn’t touch the ground even by stretching. And she still had a body like the cheerleaders Barbara went to school with, compact and tight, except for her breasts, which were almost too big for her dancer’s body. And, Barbara noticed, she was a natural blonde. Her pubic hair looked like some golden harvest out of some Americana about the heartland. Surprisingly aesthetic for such a seductive, seedy personage.

On the other side of Selina was Talia, lean and willowy. She hung from chains of a shorter length than the other two, compensating for her height. Only her toes could touch the ground. On her narrow chest, her tits seemed visibly swollen, as if they still retained the fullness left behind by her pregnancy. And her nipples were so red they could’ve been rouged.

She clenched her teeth, working them together so loudly that Barbara could hear them gnashing.

A creak sounded at the other end of the room. The hatch that was entrance and exit to this dank underground space opened slowly, allowing a little more light into the room than what filtered down from far overhead, like sunlight at the bottom of a mineshaft.

A shadow ate into the brightness. It could’ve been distorted, a trick of the light, but Barbara knew that amorphous, vaguely humanoid blotch was an accurate representation of the man casting the shadow. Clayface.

Stopping in front of the row of captive women, Clayface reached out and grabbed a handful of Barbara’s left breast. He squeezed like a vise tightening; Barbara cried out in pain, her shriek ripping through the silent air.

His other hand slapped harshly at Selina’s thighs. He made her open them, though she swore harshly, spitting invective at him even as he entered her with a clay finger. Barbara winced, thinking that as repulsive as his wet, muddy ‘flesh’ was to the touch, at least it must somewhat ameliorate how dry Selina was. Lubricating the roughness of the penetration.

Selina sobbed, but there was a hitch in her voice. Her face flickered between disgust and an expression of praise at how Clayface was touching her. Then disgust at herself for enjoying it.

Clayface didn’t appear to notice or care. He leered at Talia instead, an ugly sneer on his already ugly face. A third hand emerged from the blobby trunk of his body and he grabbed between Talia’s legs, fingers going between her buttocks and thumb planted against her mons. Gripping her there, he lifted her up into the air.

“Ahhhh!” Talia cried, a sound of relief at having the weight taken off her arms, coupled with distaste at how intimately Clayface was touching her. It added to the din filling the room and with the two women both making noise, it was hard to tell whether the place sounded more like a torture chamber or an orgy.

“What a bunch of crybabies,” Clayface spat. “I wonder which of you I could get to scream the loudest.”

“Why are you doing this?” Barbara demanded.

Clayface laughed at her. “Ain’t it obvious? The Bat ruins all my plans, sends me to jail. I can’t kill him and no matter how hard I hit him, he’s got you bitches to nurse him back to health. So this time, I’m going to hit him where it hurts. And I’ll do it like the actor I am! After I make a little movie of you three sucking my cock and swallowing my cum, he’ll know better than to mess with me!”

“No!” Selina cried, thrashing in her chains.

“I might even put our scene together on the internet! With your addresses and phone numbers attached, of course! I wouldn’t want to deny you your credit!”

Barbara wasn’t just shocked by his vindictiveness, but scandalized by the sexual sadism of his planned revenge. She had never dreamed that even a villain like Clayface would do something so unhinged.

Clayface rubbed his hands together. “I know you all must be eager to go first, but I’ll try to be fair. I chained you up here in the order you came down…” He grinned ghoulishly. “Lured by your precious Bat giving you a call… that’s as close to random as we’re going to get, so let’s start on the left and work our way down.”

For a second, what he’d said didn’t register with her. Then Barbara realized that she was on his left. Fear chilled her. As much as she’d grown to hate the painful tedium of hanging there, right then she would’ve given anything to have a few more hours of going unmolested.

But Clayface wouldn’t brook any delays. He reached up and tugged the tongue out of Barbara’s manacles, then twisted her arms behind her body. Barbara cringed as she felt clay handcuffs ooze into place around her wrists and then harden. They were easier on her tender flesh than the cold metal from before, but the implication was far more chilling.

“Let’s go, girlie, over here!” Clayface demanded, leading her to something of a mud pit in the center of the room. It was ten feet on all sides and, as Barbara watched, clamps and clay stalagmites rose out of the muck.

Clayface shoved her from behind. Barbara fell forward into the mud, unable to break her fall with her hands locked behind her body. She turned her head to save her nose and hit the murky clay with her cheek. Color swam behind her eyelids; she turned over onto her back. Her bound hands propped her hips up, thrusting her sex into the air.

“I can see you’re gagging for it!” Clayface laughed. “So let’s give you something to gag on!”

Barbara’s eyes cleared from the impact. When they finally focused, she saw a new appendage extending from Clayface’s previously featureless crotch. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bulged, seeing the lump of wet clay form itself, like a project on a pottery wheel attended by phantom hands, into the semblance of a phallus. It was ten inches long and its thickness stole her breath, as big around as her wrist, the knob bulging like a ripe apple.

“I can’t suck that!” she breathed fearfully, her expression quailing. Just the thought of all that cock forced into her mouth had her jaws aching.

“Would you rather I put it in your pussy?” Clayface asked, mock-solicitously. “Or maybe your ass?”

Barbara let out a dismal wail. She didn’t want that bulky club in any of her openings. She tried to scramble away, digging her heels into the mud, but like a woman immersed in quicksand, the more she struggled, the deeper she sank.

Clayface reached out with both thick, powerful arms. Grabbed her legs and hooked her feet high into the air. Barbara squirmed, but Clayface’s hold on her was absolute. Eventually, she had to look at him… her eyes going up the hulking pillars of his legs until they reached the sheer bulk of the phallus he’d made for himself.

As she watched, it stuck out even further, standing rigidly out from his colossal body. Underneath her, Barbara’s fingers curled. She couldn’t imagine being able to wrap them around that thing. She doubted if her pussy, if any pussy, could swallow that entire length or even handle its girth.

But it wasn’t her cunt that was in danger, it was in mouth. Still holding her in place by her legs, Clayface stepped forward—his amorphous body allowing the contortion as his arms stuck straight out behind him, holding her legs in a vee, while the rest of him stood over her chest. His cock swayed and jerked in front of him, moving entirely unlike the seething, shuffling mud that made up the rest of his body. It pulsed like the real thing, despite what it was made out of.

“No!” Barbara shrieked as he came down onto his knees, his weighty cock slapping down on her chest.

Barbara felt as if she’d been hit by a truncheon. Her breasts jiggled from the impact. She could only imagine what would happen to her throat.

The redhead gritted her teeth, her lips pinched into a tight, thin line. As Clayface oozed forward, like a mudslide washing over her body, Barbara became even more determined to deny her mouth to that terrible cock he’d fashioned.

Suddenly a third hand slashed out from his chest, smacking against her cheek. Barbara cried out in pain, then the hand held her by the scalp, forcing her head forward, into the thick battering ram of his phallus. Her outraged shrieks were muffled by the thickly packed clay, seething with heat, that suddenly filled her screaming mouth.

“MMMMPH!” Barbara gargled, feeling her jaws being stretched apart.

Only his gargantuan knob had entered her mouth and already her chin felt like it’d been unhinged. It was like trying to swallow an entire apple whole and there was still more shaft beyond what was already being forced into her mouth.

The taste pressed down firmly on her tongue, driving it into the bottom of her mouth. It was a surprisingly neutral taste and the texture, while wet and dirty, wasn’t really like mud or clay. It reminded Barbara of her childhood and chewing on Play-Doh more than anything else.

But there was so much of it and when she dug her teeth into it, the stuff refused to tear. It was like biting into rubber. She might leave teeth marks on it, but there was no way she’d be able to damage it.

“Goddamn!” Clayface shouted, right in her ear, and Barbara slanted her eyes to the side to see that he’d moved his head right beside her… only a foot away from where his cock was penetrating her mouth. “You’d better get to work on that gag reflex in a hurry, sweetie! If you don’t get some of that cock out of the way, breathing’s gonna be a real bitch!”