Moving My Legs Stretches My Nipples, while Wand Torments Orgasms as I'm Strapped to Spreader Bar & Left to Suffer in Predicament Bondage

Cold steel pins my ankles. The spreader bar keeps them wide and the nipple clamps tug with every twitch, sharp and nasty. My arms cross above me, lashed to a post, helpless. The red ball gag wedges my jaws apart; every cry dies behind it. A vibrator stays pressed to my clit, strapped hard, relentless, driving one climax after another until I shake, drool, and lose count. How many will tear through me before the switch finally cuts? Or does the hand that put me here plan to leave me locked like this, gasping through the endless, brutal pleasure?