A Laughing Stock

Tony's locked down tight, spread across that heavy stock table, every limb pinned. His neck, wrists, waist, thighs and ankles trapped in thick wood that won’t budge. You watch fear and hunger hit him all at once, and the sight makes your own pulse kick. Mercy and I circle like we own every inch. Electro clamps bite his nipples, current crackling through metal. Bands cinch tight around his cock, sending jolts that make his hips jerk against the stocks. We laugh at how quickly he hardens, how loud his breath gets when we dial the power up. The rubber creaks when Mercy leans in to twist the dials, and Tony whimpers, trapped between pleasure and panic. Every shock leaves him straining, muscles jumping, sweat sliding down his chest. We keep him right on the edge—never enough, always too much—until his whole body shakes and the only sound in the room is the low crackle of current and the helpless sounds he can’t hold back.