Mad Scientist

Beverly Hills spots him at the bar and lets the night pull her to his bed. She wakes up stripped, blindfolded, gagged, her body locked into a modified electric chair deep in his basement. Metal cuffs bite her wrists, ankles and thighs. The mad scientist, James Deen, watches the monitors flicker, then starts the current. Low voltage jolts race straight into her cunt. Her hips jerk; a hot, unstoppable squirt arcs from her and splashes the concrete floor. He watches her soak the seat, then cuts the power just long enough to replace the electrodes with his fingers. Two thick digits slam into her ass, twisting, stretching, owning the tight ring while she howls around the ball gag. He drives in deeper, knuckles grinding, then rips them out and swaps them for his cock. He fucks her ass in short, vicious strokes, the heavy chair squeaking under every thrust. Between thrusts he lands the cane across her tits, her belly, the undersides of her thighs. Each strike snaps her spine straight against the straps. Clamps snap onto her nipples next, weights swinging with every impact. He paddles the curve of her ass raw, the wood cracking loud, then rams back into her hole, pushing the burning skin against cold steel. She comes again without warning, squirt shooting past his shaft while the current is switched back on, electricity making every muscle seize around him until he pulls out, leaving her gaping, dripping and shaking under the red lab lights.