Well yes, but...

One of the cruelties of this insidious machine is the clock. Visible to its victims, and in this room there's not much else to look at. So kitten stays there, strapped into the machine as it teases her helpless, sweaty, writhing body, watching the clock as time passes ever so slowly. The horribly evil machine torturing her with pleasure, keeping the poor little kitten agonizingly on the edge of an orgasm, its sensors knowing when to slow down and when to speed up, adjusting to the individual victim's capacity for pleasure. It is relentless, cold, merciless. Kitten feels as if she's drowning in the sensations.

After a while she has an epiphany about just how evil this machine is. That it's not just the teasing, the denial of release. It's how painfully, atrociously boring it is. With nobody here to watch her, tease and torment her, talk to her. It's just a big heartless machine doing horrible things to her without any real purpose. All alone in this room, it's just the **** and one's thoughts. And time, time to think about things. Things like how someone like kitten ended up here. Is this where she really belongs, or is this just a diversion for her? Good questions, she supposes, but inconvenient. Introspection is never fun.

On the other hand, it can be beneficial. This club is not for the faint of heart, it's not for tourists, so to speak. Maybe Master T invented the machine to help weed out those who aren't really serious about it. But was kitten one of those tourists, someone who's just playing around a little, having some fun? Or was this something she really needed? Being strapped to a machine that keeps one on the edge of an orgasm doesn't seem to be the most ideal position to be thinking about these things, but here she is, stuck in the machine, alone with her thoughts, watching time tick slowly by.

Eventually though she does come to understand herself, not all the way of course, nobody ever really figures it all out, especially not during a night of being tortured with orgasm denial by a machine. But she figures out enough. Enough to understand what brought her here, why she's gone as far as she has, and whether or not she wants to go further.

By the time Master T returns, kitten is of course a barely conscious mess. Covered in sweat, panting and whimpering, taken well past the point of exhaustion. He has a couple of people help her out, and they take her away from that room, a room she hopes to not see again anytime soon. And the last thing she is aware of before finally, blissfully losing consciousness, is someone re-inserting the tail into her ass.