Turns on the hot box

Daisy taps a button on the side of the Hot Box with a devilish little smirk.

Hummmmmm...

The device comes to life.

Velvet Vixen gasps as the soft vibration begins—gentle at first, a barely-there tremble in the metal and restraints, but then steadily growing. The post between her legs pulses with subtle warmth and vibration, humming in rhythm with something deeper in the machine’s core. The walls of the chamber heat just enough to coax sweat along her collarbone.

“O-Oh,” Velvet Vixen murmurs, her voice catching. “Th-That’s… definitely warm.”

“Told ya,” Daisy giggles. “They don’t call it the Hot Box ‘cause it keeps leftovers warm.”

She leans on the rim, chin resting on her hand, watching the superheroine’s face flush with more than heat.

“You feelin’ it yet, sugar? ‘Cause I sure am.”

Velvet Vixen bites her lip.

The vibrating support post presses up—just right.

The tightness of her bound limbs makes even the smallest shift in her stance... exquisitely obvious.

She tries to keep her composure, but her eyes flutter slightly.

“Mmmm... okay. Okay. This is very distracting.”

“Good,” Daisy purrs. “Means it’s workin’.”

Velvet Vixen takes a breath. She can’t move her arms. Her legs are spread and locked. Her body is flushed and tingling, and Daisy’s grin only grows wider the more she reacts.

The room smells like orchids and steam. The pressure inside the box is building—sensually, relentlessly.

Focus, Kendrick… FOCUS.