The Fairy Skin Art did not care about the source of stimulus. A tentacle pressing against her nipple reported as exactly what it was, with full resolution, with no capacity for her to scale it down or mute it. The suction 'pulled', and her body processed this with the same attentive thoroughness it processed every physical event, and her pussy — which had been cold and appropriate and utterly uninvolved in any of this — clenched.
She did not have time to be mortified by this. She was busy being pulled underwater.
"MNGHH~!! — LET GO — LET—"
They dragged her under.
The pond was deeper than she'd read. She went down six feet before the pull stopped, the tentacles holding her in position — wrist, ankle, waist — while two more from below found her thighs and separated them with the slow, deliberate pressure of something that did not have goals but had instincts.
