There is really little you can do. You and Pam can't even stand, much less run away. But you have to try something, or... "Pam, that monster will just tear us apart." [Maybe not. You are rather flexible as a vore, but you don't want to find out for sure.] "I'll just relax and you should be able to run away..." It's a faint hope, but maybe...
"Do you think it will wor...?" Well, not if Pam is going to stop and ask dumb questions. You feel Sam's hands grabbing your hips. And then you feel that gigantic staff being positioned, at the wrong hole..."Wait! Not that way! It can't possibly fit in there! [That was probably Pam screaming. Not that you disagree at all.]
"It's going to fit easily." Sam disagrees. "When you girls merged, you became a blob. I can stick it in anywhere at all, and it will fit fine."
"That's impossi-BLE!" Again you are not sure who is talking. It hardly matters. Sam has shoved a football into a dime-sized hole! And to make matters worse, that football is at least a yard long! In fact it you think you feel the head of his tool in your throat.
"See? I told you it would fit." Sam happily announces. You are in no shape to answer even if you and Pam could get together on what to say. "Now let's get to it." With that, Sam pulls back and then shoves forward. The age-old rhythm is in action.
For all the shock, you are even more shocked to find this is more pleasure than pain, and that the pleasure is increasing. Your excitement rapidly increases until you just shutter with joy. As you feel your happiness, you feel Sam explode within you. "Pretty good, eh? Now let's really get it on..." With that, he resumes plumbing your depths.
This time, your pleasure increases only slowly, but it continues to increase. Indeed, it increases to painful levels. You are getting desperate to climax. And you are unable to tell him that. Whereas before you had thought his piece had reached your throat, now you know it is in your mouth. It batters at the back of your teeth until you open your mouth enough for it to pass.
Sam too is eager to finally get over the top, and is stimulating you and himself vigorously, and you realize release is only a little ways off. You strive for that little bit, and suddenly you are hit by wave after wave of rapture. You fall to the floor, unable to control your muscles.
As you do, Sam has an equally massive climax, which spurts out your mouth. A milky pool forms in front of you and you find yourself roused enough to lick it up and swallow it down. Pam? Possibly. You are not sure you have the energy to do this. You certainly don't have enough to stop it. And you don't think you are trying.
Sam pats you on the hip. His tool is now back to more normal size. However, his interest is not completely gone. "That was great, but you just do well on your practice and we can have some more fun. You can be on top."
Somehow this sounds like encouragement to you, and it seems to be working. You resolve to work to co-operate with Pam.