Crystal Frost

Crystal Frost steps into the wrong room and everything turns hard fast. She’s slammed against the bed, arms yanked back and cinched tight. Clothespins bite down on her breasts in tight rows, white on pink skin, every breath making the wood pinch deeper. A ball gag is forced between her teeth, straps buckled behind her skull, and the first orgasm rips through her while those pins shake and click. Water sluices over her body, dripping from clamped nipples as she’s dragged to the next room, wrists and ankles locked in heavy shackles. Wires kiss the wet folds between her legs. Electricity snaps through her sex, making her hips jerk and her muscles seize; cold water follows, shocking her again. She comes hard, again, again—helpless and dripping. Later she’s lashed into the swirling tub, head forced under the churning surface, up again for air, then under once more. Each rise finds her rubbing the jet that pounds her clit, every dunk and jolt pushing another climax out of her until she’s left bound and shuddering, water climbing higher with each gasping breath.