A strained gasp escapes your lips, clawing its way through the cracks of your abnormal breaths. Your eyelids flutter like moths, shuttering the sight of the ER like a disappearing act on repeat. In a moment of electric stillness, cold steel brushes against your slick button. Your thighs instantly move away from each other of their own volition as your clitoris makes full connection with the Kegel, your upper body sinking closer to the soiled floor again.

The mingling of metal and flesh produces more sounds, a crescendo of whimpers wrenched from your throat by an unrelenting buzz. Whimpers that quickly turn loud. You guide the Kegel along your engorged clit, your hips thrusting forward, rolling into it, your fingers growing insistent as a delicious sensation floods your core, radiating outward like tendrils of liquid fire. Air stammers out of you, your voice cracking at the sensation of Frost’s crop against the back of your pussy again.

“Do you want to come?”

Five words. One question. That’s all it takes.

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