Rose

Rose is back. She wants more of the machine's steady grip. They lock her wrists into the stocks, force her forward. Her ankles fixed, she cannot close. One device after another finds her, none of them gentle. Her mouth is packed with rubber, straps drawn tight behind her head. Leather cuffs bite deeper into skin already bruised from the last visit. A thick plug vibrates hard against her clit, then pulls away just before she breaks. She sits on the sharp wooden edge, legs spread wide over the triangle, the point digging upward. Inside her an electric probe starts to pulse and her thighs start to jump. The current climbs. Her whole body shakes, helpless, until sweat runs down her back. Nothing is left to chance. Every strap, every jolt, every forced sound comes from the same tight script they wrote for her.