Breaking of Bobbi Starr

Over two years since Bobbi Starr last walked through Device's doors. The metal rig is already waiting, arms cuffed high, a steel yoke locked around her throat, knees barely off the floor, ankles spread wide. Every flinch jerks her neck back. The whip slices across her ass again and again, then a thick cock slams in, stretching her open, fucking the helpless brunette until she groans around the ball jammed on its stick. Nipples crushed in clamps, chest straining above the floor, her rim red and gaping, cane welts burning across both cheeks. A vibrator buzzes low and mean between her legs while she hangs in that torment. For the final gift, a plug seats deep inside her ass, a tit-stretcher clamps on and ratchets tight, a harness gag buckles over her mouth. They strap her onto the Sybian, legs wrenched apart so her clit grinds against the relentless pad with nowhere to go. The cattle prod crackles against her skin, again and again, until every muscle spasms and every breath comes out ragged.