Kat and Kendra James

Kat works the late shift and her uniform starts to feel like armor she needs to peel off. She locks the door, spreads herself over the exam table, and touches the live pads to her own skin. The jolt knocks a gasp out of her and she grins, pushing harder. Every buzz rides her nerves straight to her cunt until she’s soaked and shaking. She comes once, twice, the cheap plastic table squealing under her. Then the handle slips, the door swings, and there’s Kendra, eyes flashing, crop already in her fist. Kendra doesn’t ask. She cuffs Kat’s wrists to the stirrups, hikes her hips up, and lines the violet wand against that tight, nervous hole. One flick and blue fire spits inside. Kat’s back arches like she’s been kicked and she howls, half pain, half filthy need. Kendra works the wand deeper, thumb on the dial, watching every twitch. Current snaps along slick flesh and Kat’s thighs quake, drool shining on her chin. The shocks keep coming until the only word left in her mouth is Kendra’s name, broken and begging.