As distorted as the doctor's words were, it didn't matter.  Lisle's body was awash with sensation - the feeling of drowning as what felt like gallons washed into her throat, the heady rush of those fingers dancing on her inhumanly long clitoris, the self-disgust at what she was doing in exchange for a reprieve from pain.<br/><br/>Some of the semen went down her throat.  It wasn't that she tried to swallow it, but a startled rush of air through her nose as<em>something</em>brought her back up in an arch swept the clots of seed along with it.  She started coughing as some inevitably went the wrong way, cringing back to try to catch her breath.<br/><br/>Some of it had gone down - partly swallowed, partly inhaled.  The rest dribbled from the sides of her mouth, trickling down her reddened cheeks with the same sluggish flow as the fluids trickling out of her vagina.