Metal Kisses

The vaccube stands like a steel trap. A vertical cage with a rubber mouth at groin level, sucking and sealing around whatever's offered. Three women in black satin latex circle it. Kat Turner runs her hands across the bars. Lucid Lavender circles behind. I wait at the front, tapping a toe against the base. He's inside, locked in a spiked tube that bites every time his cock tries to swell. We told him we'd take him to the edge and leave him screaming. The tube keeps its promise. Each throb stings, then fades. He breathes hard against the rubber seal. We lean in, mouths inches from steel, letting our words crawl over him while the vacuum keeps its slow, merciless pull.