The Girl Who Talked Too Much

Eric clamps a magic wand to Ava’s clit, straps her to the box and tells her he only wants numbers. She starts counting. Each time he can’t hear her, he chains her tighter, lashes her ass, adds another lock that digs into her skin. The wand buzzes harder. Her thighs shake. Sweat runs between her tits. She spits out numbers—four, five—until the ones he can’t catch cost her another round of strikes and fresh steel across her shoulders. Blonde hair sticks to her open mouth. She keeps counting through clenched teeth while the brunette in the corner watches the rising tally, chains rattling every time Ava forgets to speak.