MX RYDER: Never ending fucking machine orgasms!

Mx Ryder’s alone with the machine that never tires. Lights low, the studio empty, they line up the dildo, hit the switch, and the first thrust hits home. A row of clothespins marches down their chest; a quick tug and the sting flares hot while the machine keeps pounding. They slap their own thigh with the crop, swing the flogger across their tits, then bite the crop handle when the first orgasm rips through. The machine doesn’t slow. It slams harder, deeper, the motor humming like it knows exactly what Mx can take. The Hitachi gets taped low, buzzing right on their clit, turning every new thrust into another jolt. Another yank of the zipper, fresh welts from the paddle, and another climax crashes in. Mx’s moans get raw, their breath short. Still the machine strokes on, relentless, and Mx rides every inch, lost in the cycle of hurt and heat until time disappears and they can’t even count the spasms that have torn through them.