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arms then behind the
surface supporting me. The process is repeated on my other side. Soon, the
tinsel forms an X before me, locking my upper body to the form.
    When the soft, shiny rope runs out, I strain, testing my
limits. I start with subtle wiggles that escalate to full-out yanks when I
confirm I’m well and truly held. Whispers race through the shadowy seats when a
moment of fear widens my eyes.
    Rick is there in an instant. “Shush, Star. Let me give you
what you need.”
    There’s no hesitation in his baritone. Only sweet comfort
and steely reassurance.
    “Yes,” I moan.
    He grins, feral and full of anticipation as he retrieves the
strand of lights. Soon my ankles and legs receive the same treatment as my arms
and torso. Bound, captured, trussed in a flash of silver and white. The
lingering heat from the extinguished bulbs singes my flesh. The bite fades
before I can complain.
    I whimper.
    “You like that, don’t you? A little sting.” Rick strokes his
fingers from my ankles to my waist as he verifies my bindings are comfortable
yet inescapable. Exactly what I’ve requested.
    A surge of moisture floods my pussy, dampening the aching
center of my body.
    “You need more?”
    He knows that I do. Still, his hands hover a hairsbreadth
from my chest until I tender my admission. “Yes please. Something stronger.”
    “Like this?” He stands to the side so our witnesses don’t
miss a single detail when he teases my breasts with gentle pinches, firm slaps
and finally the nip of his teeth.
    “Yes!” Heat races through me, centered around the contact of
his consuming lips.
    “Mmm.” He steps back to admire his handiwork with a critical
eye. “You do look lovely. I think it’s time to illuminate you for our guests.”
    He monitors my reaction carefully. His gaze flicks to the
pulse hammering along the side of my neck and the juice spreading onto the tops
of my thighs from my saturated pussy.
    When I don’t object, he crosses with two strides to the
pedestal nearby. He bunches the cheery red-and-gold tablecloth covering it in
his fist then whips it to the side, revealing the digital power box beneath.
    I shiver as the crowd surrenders a collective gasp.
    The industrial unit looks far more powerful and imposing
than the moderate Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator I’ve employed for
some of my specialty customers. The TENS works wonders by supplying a variety
of sensations from a mild oscillation to a substantial muscle spasm used in
BDSM edge play.
    Grown men have fallen apart, begging me for more at the
first pulse of its power. They keep groveling when I extend their orgasms,
tumbling and crashing them through wave after wave of contractions in the grip
of nature’s greatest force.
    This equipment can take things to a whole new level. I’ve
heard of the programs available to modulate the current, mutating common
electricity into an invisible hand that strokes muscles and nerves beneath the
skin. Almost like an internal vibrator.
    Each person reacts differently to the stimulus. How will it
feel on me?
    Rick senses my trepidation. It underlies the arousal causing
my thighs to quiver. He selects two pad electrodes, the most basic and gentle,
then stretches the leads toward me. “We’ll start from the bottom and work our
way up. I’ll light up the Star only when you’re ready.”
    Plus, we both know current above the waist requires advanced
skill and a degree of risk unmitigated by any amount of training. Passing
current through the chest cavity can turn deadly—quick. E-stimming above the
shoulders is strictly forbidden. I don’t think for one second he would put me
in danger. I trust they’ve arranged some alternate method of sustaining the
illusion.
    To be frank, I don’t give a damn. All I care about is Rick,
our pleasure and indulging in sinful delights. I’m willing to share that with
the hoard of customers who are not fortunate enough to be me—the object of
Rick’s desire.
    As though