Date With A Dominatrix (2 of 2)

Dominik Kross stares into the dim light of Cybill Troy’s dungeon, unsure how deep he’s stepped. She lands a few quick swats on his ass, then raises the whip across his back, each strike snapping skin and drawing a sharp tremor from him. His balls stay cinched tight, holding him in place while his body jerks forward. When she decides he’s taken enough, she unfastens his wrists, but humiliation lingers—she makes him bend and untie his own sack, fingers fumbling under the sting. Freedom lasts seconds. She clamps the head cage shut, then rips the nipple clamps free, swapping them for suction tubes that tug at the raw flesh. Electro-stim pads hug his cock and balls; every loud foot-stamp from her heel or desperate cry from him triggers a jolt that races straight through his groin. Worse, the buzz of a pair of garden weasels skimming his skin sets the pads off again, a double dose of voltage she delights in running from chest to thigh. She dots his torso and shaft with clothespins, each one a bright target for the whip’s next pass. Then the Elastrator appears, rubber band stretched wide, threat hanging thicker than pain. Will he walk out intact? This is part two of FemDom Dream Date.