Six.

“Lets go straight to 6 and see if the slut likes that too.”

Quentin looked at Megan a bit nervously, but adjusted the dial. Then he stepped away and motioned for me to take over. He wanted me to be the one to flick the switch.

I gladly did, and all at once Megan came to life on the horse. Her limbs jerked and flailed in their restraints and she screamed through the gag in a continuous stream of wordless vocalization. Her torso leapt up, rigid and shaking as the current coursed through her. I was surprised that the machine itself made no sound, the only indication that it was working was an amber light that came on when I flicked the switch, the needles on the gauges bouncing up, and of course, Megan’s response.

I had no idea how long this sort of thing should be left on, but I found myself captivated by the show.

“Um…” Quentin mumbled, “Maybe stop for a second?”

I snapped out if it and flipped the switch. She collapsed back down on the wedge like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A small stream of piss dribbled down the horse and her legs onto the floor. Her chest heaved and she was sweating again. I thought I might have really hurt her for a second, but her head rolled back in a low, animal moan, and she ground her pussy into he wedge, hard. The butterfly was still doing its work as well.

“Maybe that was too much,” Quentin said, nervously.

I smiled and stood up to look Megan in the eye.

“Why don’t we ask her,” I said, as she met my eyes, “Does my fucktoy want to be a good girl for me and take a stronger current?”

Her rolling eyes fixed on me, widening in a mix of fear and lust. She moaned again, a pathetic weak sound, but clearly not a sound of agony… or not painful agony. Her eyes sharpened as I awaited her answer.