The Dungeon Dentist

Christina Carter shows up every week. Tongue bound. Nipples clamped and stretched. The chair tips her back. The drill stays still. Her body doesn't. She comes hard, again and again, until the session ends and she walks out shaky, wet, already counting the days until she has to crawl back. The dreams start the next night. Cold jets hit her. Steel probes open her. Wet Dreams holds her tight, fucks her slow, then slams her until her screams echo off the tile. Once isn't enough. It resets and takes her again. By morning her wrists still ache from fighting the straps she chose herself. Later they come for her in the chair. The whole thing scrapes across concrete. She stays buckled in while two men lift and shove. The big tank waits. Water closes over her head. Up she comes, choking, coughing, hair plastered to her face, before they push her down again. Each dunk drags another orgasm out of her trembling thighs. Another perfect day with Christina Carter, bound, dripping, and already hungry for the next one.