"Kim Possible is caught attempting to infiltrate a secret compound. Usually, the penalty for this would be death, but the girl would be much better used as a sex slave."

Image credits: Sketch; dukenukem (Hentai Foundry, image deleted)
Inks and Color; Phillipethe2

Everything was blurry, unfocused.  Faint outlines danced behind closed eyelids, hints of something more hidden behind a veil.  The world felt unsteady, rocking on some ever-changing point.  Dull aches throbbed all over, distant and easily forgotten, like faint pressure at the back of her neck, in her shoulders, her knees and her thighs.  A pinch constantly tugged at her consciousness, somewhere on her arm, where it was warm: even warmer still than the rest of her body, which felt as if it were wrapped in a sweltering blanket.  She felt a profound dismay as she wriggled in place, somehow restrained, her muscles kept from freely flowing as she desperately wished they could.  Those struggles reached her ears as an amplified, leathery rustling.  Intense: it sent chills through her.  She took in a sighing breath, surprised to find that she could smell a familiar musk, and strange, earthy aromas all around her.

"Looks like it's kicking in, boss," a gruff voice rang out.  Was it close? far?

A rough chuckle resounded in response.  "Wake up, Ms. Possible."

Kim heard the sharp crack of flesh against flesh before she felt the stinging, distant through her fuzzy mind.  Her eyes pried open, squinting reflexively as light bombarded her blown pupils.  It was so bright, and it stung terribly.  The captured spy's head drifted from left to right, a flowing oscillation that just served to smear the already-blurry images of her captors.  One...two...three...was it three?   It could be six, for all she knew.  Some part of her, floating in her groggy consciousness, realized that she should be very frightened.  Something had happened: she'd been hit, maybe, or was there something about the light, misty clouds that kept popping into her memory?  The teen agent groaned, surprised to hear her own voice muffled, to feel her jaw stretched wide.  Her lips and chin felt wet, very wet, and she couldn't close her mouth.

"How do you feel?" asked someone.

That someone fell into her line of sight, his face smudged and glowing where the light hit it.  There was something about his tone too: like he was mocking her, maybe.  Kim tried to focus in on him, see through the haze that was veiling her sight, but her eyes just would not stop moving.  She squirmed, forcing strands of her red bob to stick to her forehead.  The motion coiled and twisted her body, prompting a sharp twinge between her legs to spread through her, a gasp forced out through the holes in her gag.  It felt good.  Really good.  She tried to dip her head, to find out why even those gentle shifts of her body were spreading such an ecstatic sensation through her body, but the stranger before her snapped a gloved hand around her slick chin, yanking up.

"Keep your eyes up," he spat, "we've got a surprise for you and it would be a shame if you ruined it."

Something cool pressed to her chest, just under the tight, rough leather that wrapped around her neck.  The spy was slowly becoming aware of her body again, able to feel that same sort of restraint on her arms, wrapped around her thighs.  Her calves were locked by shackles that pressed against her skin, hard and chilled.  Something was filling her, too, stretching her cunt with a wide and solid center that broke off into what felt like thousands of rubbery tongues.  She felt that intrusion deep in her core, her muscles clamping down around it, rippling in erratic spasms against the thick object.  Kim's eyes popped fully open, shock overriding the piercing glare of what little illumination bathed her.  The masked stranger before her lifted up, laughter shaking his form as he back-pedaled to the other two men.

"Okay," he announced, clapping his hands together, a glint of metal flashing briefly, "let's get started.  Turn it up."

The figure to his right brought something up, an object that she faintly recalled in some dim, distant recollection.  His fingers gripped against what looked like a knob, and the spy felt a thrill of anticipation shoot up her spine.  She didn't pause to wonder why that response came, or to consider how strange it was that her quim roiled against the object stuffed up into her.  All she felt was a base excitement, her heart thumping a wild beat against her chest as her breathing hastened.  Her nipples, already crinkled against the air, almost stung with each pulse that ran through them.  It felt as if her crotch was caught in an inferno which ebbed and flowed with the throbbing of her clit.

The tiniest vibration began, rumbling in the machine that that Kim straddled.  She felt the buzz first against her legs, a split-second before the dildo stretching her began to blur subtly.  Even that lowest of settings jolted through her, spreading like wildfire through her nerves.  Her arms struggled uselessly against the cuffs laced around her arms, her knees wobbled, her back arched and her stomach rolled: a concert of contortion conducted by the dildo's subtle whirring within her.  The three figures chorused in cruel guffaws as the device pinged out a tone.  The spy-turned-slave had missed it, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her eyes rolled back in their sockets.

There was something so familiar about this.  A faint feeling of recognition clawed at Kim's mind as her hips bucked against the embedded phallus.  She knew what would happen next: the faux-cock would begin to piston, shallow strokes would violate her deepest parts, the rubbery tongues would lick at her oversensitive inner walls.  It would feel incredible.  It was feeling incredible.  Each robotic thrust jammed into her, forcing her body to jolt as it pushed her juices out against her thighs, dripping onto the plastic cover below them.  It would go on like this for hours, picking up speed and easing down at varying rates, alternating between teasing her and tearing as many earth-shattering climaxes as it could from her.  She began to scream, drowning out the machine's high-pitched bell as it announced each one, over and over, and over...

"Forty-five this time," the leader announced, his voice was thick with amused interested.

The hollow plunking of his boots against the floor rang out in Kim's ears.  How long had it been since they'd started on her?  An hour, two hours, half a day?  She dragged her head up, the weight of it wobbling against her weak and trembling muscles.  However long it was, her thighs were coated with her release, slick rivulets that dripped down to her ankles.  Focusing was even more difficult than before, her vision swimming and bobbing from side to side.  The figure loomed over her, reaching his arms around to the back of her head.  The spy jolted forward, quaking as she was yanked off the soaked dildo.  Her captor pulled off the gag stuck between her lips, leaving them swollen and gaped open, before he dropped her to the ground.  She squirmed against the shackles, still locking her legs in place, staring up at her captor with wide eyes.  His hands were moving, near his belt: that was all she could tell before she saw the captor's trousers slump to the ground.

"Say: Thank you," he grumbled.

Her tender lips worked wordlessly, her sore jaw felt as if it was grinding as she fought to find her voice.  Hoarse croaks tore out of her throat, which burned with hours of screams etched into it.  Kim's captor watched, a scowl chiseled onto his face as her throat worked, straining to remember how to form words.  He was just about to turn as he heard something wheeze out of her, and he kicked forward against her side, prodding the spy with the solid tip of his boot.  She looked up at him, her figure heaving awkwardly in her bondage as she panted.

"Thank you," she rasped.

Her captor's mask folded at the mouth-hole, a triumphant grin spreading his lips wide.  They'd been at this for weeks by now, and he had almost begun to worry that she would end up just another vegetable.  Sometimes she had responded with pith, but lately it had merely ended with her losing consciousness on the ground, completely unresponsive.  He stared over her body, glistening with sweat, red with flush, and marked at several places where they had beaten her in their crude attempts at forcing her submission.  This effort had been inefficient, expensive, and had lasted far too long.  He didn't care, though, because it had all been worth it at the end.

All Kim could do was lay there, forced into involuntary squirming by the aftermath of her long torture.  Thanking him seemed strange, as if some other person than her had borrowed her voice, and spoke the words.  Flopped on the ground, her twitching holes exposed, not even a flicker of interest or fear crossed her mind as the captor pulled out his prick.  Her eyes bobbed with it, the shaft vein-ridden and the head a vibrant crimson, but only for the repeated motion that transfixed her and ensorcelled her drugged mind.  Disappointment flashed through her as he left her field of vision, but she jerked and felt a hoarse yelp press out of her as the backs of her thighs tingled with warmth.

How long had it been since she felt human warmth?  Kim's muscles strained against their binds as she struggled to press up against the presence behind her, the long-lost sensation of flesh outside of careening slaps, punches, and kicks.  A whine escaped her throat, cut short by the sharp crack of her captor's palm against her ass.  The prickling heat of the impact flared up for a moment before it was covered, once more, by anesthetic haze.  Finally, though, she felt flesh against hers, at first brushing against her, then pressing tight to her legs.  The thrumming pulse of another heartbeat seeped into her senses, originating from the thick shaft planted between her cheeks.  Some hidden part of her consciousness urged her to keep still, despite the swelling desire to rub up against her captor's body.

"Beg," he commanded, in monotone.

"Please," she whined out, "push your thick dick in me; please, use your slave."

The words came to her like lines memorized from some script she couldn't remember reading.  It was just another incongruity that tugged at the last shelter of reason in her broken mind, struggling toward comprehension and recollection.  Right then, the spy was ignorant but at the cusp of clarity, almost able to recall the series of events before she had been taken.  Her captor's prick, which had dragged down along her skin, almost unnoticed by her in her mental struggle, shoved between her pussy's swollen lips, stretching her battered walls once more.  It also shoved another rasped cry from her, and so also were her ruminations thrust out of mind.  He sank deep into her, and she rolled back against him the best she could in her bonds, desperate for more intimate contact.

All she received, though, were fierce and pounding jabs from her captor, his cock punching in and out of her quim.  The sloppy slaps filled the air as he ravaged into her, the moments where his hips met hers too short for her to truly enjoy.  Kim leaked around him, nonetheless, her body responding in automatic obeisance, drilled into her even without her reckoning.  Her captor was quick, barely two minutes passing before he jammed himself into her, his heavy balls smashing against her swollen and abused clit.  She felt the warmth of his eruption spread through her, setting her muscles off into rippling, uncontrollable spasms.  They continued even as he pulled out, spending the last of his cum on her back and rump, the hot fluid spreading chills through her skin.

"Next," he called out, lifting himself to his feet.