Veruca James Submits!

Veruca James can take a lot. Tonight she gives it all up. Daisy Ducati straps her down hard—ankles wide, wrists locked, every limb screaming tension. Metal bites skin. Current hums beneath it. The cattle prod kisses bare flesh first, testing, teasing. Then the steel plug slides in, cold and thick, wired straight to the same box that controls Veruca’s nerves. Daisy twists the dial. Veruca’s back arches like a live wire, breath punching out in ragged bursts. The plug pulses, fucks, shocks, and she can’t decide whether to beg or curse. Daisy doesn’t ask. She sits on Veruca’s face, grinds down until the only air left is her. Every breath tastes like Daisy’s cunt. Meanwhile the current keeps crawling—through the toy, through the clips on sensitive toes, turning every twitch into a fresh jolt. Veruca’s thighs tremble, muscles locked, pussy dripping onto the floor. She comes hard the first time, body jerking against the restraints. Daisy doesn’t ease up. Another shock, another climax, another broken sound muffled by slick skin. Veruca’s dark hair sticks to sweat-slick cheeks, mascara smudged, eyes glassy. She keeps coming until the current finally drops and the only thing left is Daisy’s weight and the slow ache of used muscles.