Dr. Graves has some unusual experimental treatments for her patient, who just so happens to be me. She comes into my cell, where I am secured to the bed with lovely humane restraints straps in a bright orange straitjacket. It's extremely unlikely I could escape this high security facility, but the bright colors help just in case.
I have no idea how long I might have been there, or even what I am there to be treated for...all I know is...I'm *****. For as long as I've been here, I have been subjected to the most tormenting and sensual teasing, and never left to my own devices. If I'm alone I'm completely bound and unable to relieve the burning desire. I can't decide which is worse: being alone, restrained, and *****, or receiving some stimulation as part of one of Dr. Graves' increasingly challenging treatments.
Today, Elise secures a yellow gas mask to my face attached to an air tank to help me regulate my breathing throughout the torment. She then attaches a powerful suction device to my clitoric, making it even more engorged and sensitive than it already was. After filling my ***** with a big *****, she removes the suction and uses a high-powered vibrator to stimulate my ****, but never lets me ***.
My frustration, despair, and delight grow throughout the scene. I love the touch after being deprived so long. But I know the touch will just make it worse once the treatment is over. Elise then leaves me to ponder my predicament with the gas mask still secured over my face and my dripping ***** still stuffed with a *****, with nothing I could possibly do about it except writhe and try in vain to **** myself.
