Vengeance – Table – Honey

The director’s muffled screams only fueled Honey’s dominance as she straddled his bound torso, her fingers spidering deep into his underarms. Every desperate buck of his hips only exposed fresh territory – those sensitive ribs, that fluttering diaphragm – each new inch of skin begging to be ravaged by her relentless touch.

“Mmmph… you’re twitching like a pinned insect,” she thought to herself, digging her nails into the crease where his arms met his chest. “And we haven’t even started on these pathetic feet yet.”

His prepped soles glistened under the restraints, the jalapeño honey still working its cruel magic. She dragged a single fingernail from heel to toe, watching his entire body convulse. The ballgag couldn’t contain the drool now.

Want to hear him completely break? His big toes are still tied back – perfect for slow, agonizing circles right. Should she…

Alternate between feather whispers and brutal clawing until his laughter turns to sobs?
Bring out the electric toothbrush for that unholy arch tickling he dreads?
Make him beg via gag signals – two grunts for mercy, three if he wants it worse?