My head’s pounding like a fucking sledgehammer, that sound wave’s buzz still screwing my brain as I snap awake. I’m buck-naked, skin crawling in this sterile glass box, my body locked tight. Rough hemp ropes rip into my wrists and ankles, yanking my arms and legs wide, spread-eagle against the slick, cold walls. The knots are brutal, the waist ones worst, grinding my skin raw, pinning a Hitachi so tight to my pussy it’s like it’s part of me. Every move to break free cranks its buzz, a twisted machine that fucks me for fighting. My blonde hair’s plastered to my sweaty face, my gymnast body, huge tits bouncing, muscles carved, straining against this shit. I snarl, rage on fire. This setup’s screwing me, but I’m not breaking.
I wrench my wrist, nails clawing the hemp, trying to pick the knot apart. My gymnast arms flex, biceps bulging, but the rope bites deeper, shredding my skin. The move sets off the Hitachi, vibrations slamming my clit, making my pussy throb wet. I grit my teeth, cursing, my scream bouncing off the glass, lost in the iron room’s dead air. The camera’s red light blinks high, watching, pissing me off. My tits heave, sweat pouring down my back. I twist my shoulder, like I’m swinging on the bars, hunting for a loose knot. The rope holds, and the Hitachi roars, buzzing my slit raw. My hips jerk, soaking against my will, and a climax hits, gushing hot, my legs shaking. I roar, furious at my body caving.
I’m not fucking done. I arch my back, gymnast core tight, pulling against the waist ropes to shift the knots. The hemp burns, carving red lines into my skin, the Hitachi glued to my pussy. My twisting spikes it higher, vibrations pounding my clit, my hole dripping. I snarl, yanking harder, abs screaming as I bend like I’m mid-routine. The ropes don’t give, and the Hitachi’s hum fucks me harder, forcing my hips to buck. Another orgasm slams me, my pussy pulsing, thighs slick. I dig my nails into my palms, screaming in my head, refusing to let this win. My body’s trembling, but I’m still fighting, still pissed.
I kick out, my long leg stretching, toes pointed, smashing the glass with a thud, praying for a crack. My gymnast thighs flex, power surging, but the box doesn’t budge. The move jolts the waist ropes, and the Hitachi goes wild, a relentless buzz ripping through my snatch. I try to hold still, but my muscles twitch, and the vibrations keep pounding, my clit raw, my pussy soaking. Another climax crashes, my hole spasming, sweat streaming. I snarl at the camera, at this fucking kennel, at my own skin for giving in. I twist my hips, desperate to loosen the waist knot, but it’s too tight, and the Hitachi maxes out, another orgasm tearing through, my scream echoing, legs shaking.
I’m trapped, spread wide, the glass mirroring my sweat-drenched, straining body, my rage. The ropes are a fucking torture rack, the waist ones shredding my skin, the Hitachi a cruel bastard that wakes when I fight. I yank at the wrist ropes again, muscles burning, ignoring the pain, the chafing, the way my pussy keeps gushing against my will. The camera’s light blinks, mocking me, but I don’t give a shit. I’m Jade, and I’m not done. I thrash, one last desperate move, the Hitachi roaring, another climax hitting, my body shaking, but I grit my teeth, defiant. This box, these ropes, this machine, they can screw my body, but I’m still fighting.
