In Deep

Strange Hobbies stays locked down on the slanted board, latex clinging to every inch of him, wrists and ankles caught in cold metal restraints. His head hangs lower than his feet, chest rising and falling faster already. Wires run tight: one probe buried inside his ass, the other looping around his cock, ready to bite. Elise carries the bucket over, sets it beside him, dips the heavy rag until it drips. She drops the soaked cloth across his face and presses. Water forces its way into his mouth, up his nose; he jerks, chokes, but the current kicks on anyway. Electricity claws through his hole and down his shaft in sharp, mean bursts while he fights for air. Elise feels his body buck under the wet cloth and smiles. She lifts the rag just enough for a single breath, then slams it back and cranks the power higher. Every flinch pulls another jolt through his cock and ass. His fingers curl, tendons stand out, latex squeaks against the board. The water keeps coming, each wave timed to the shocks, until the line between drowning and coming blurs and he can’t tell which one will break him first.