Day 5: Kailani (A New Request Comes In)

The moan from the monitor lingers longer this time—deeper, richer, and louder than before. The color of the bid flash is gold, not silver.

Kailani’s eyes narrow. "Well now,” she says, sauntering toward the screen, “what do we have here?”

She reads the username aloud with a slow, deliberate smile curling across her lips. “Request from… CassetteBeast. My partner in kink! How delicious!”

That hits you like a gut punch. You don't react outwardly—can’t, not strapped down and gagged—but inside, your stomach flips. CassetteBeast. Kailani’s kink partner. And one of your opponents. The returning champion. Cassie.

She was at the draw. She’s in the game. And now she’s watching. Bidding. Orchestrating.

You seethe. You can’t say anything. You can’t do anything. But the humiliation burns fresh in your chest.

Kailani turns toward the camera, eyes gleaming. “CassetteBeast,” she purrs. “Every fan’s favorite. The perv with the music of screams.”

She gives the monitor a little wave. “Hey baby. Thanks for the tip.”

She glances at the message itself and lets out a delighted, theatrical laugh. “Ohhh, we are getting nostalgic tonight. ‘Make him ride the lightning.’"

She claps her hands once and practically skips to the gear rack.

“It’s been a while since I dusted off the glove,” she says, pulling open a slim black case. “Not since the last time I played with CassetteBeast… and that bitch made me cum with it on my clit.”

She lifts the device for the audience to see.

The lightning glove is equal parts sex toy and mad science experiment—fine wires braid together along the wrist, feeding into a gauntlet lined with small metal studs across the palm and fingertips. A soft current crackles faintly as she powers it on, and a small LED blinks to life.

“But I can turn it up much higher for this boy.”

The chat explodes. Fire emojis. Shocked faces. Bold, all-caps screaming. Kailani is grinning like she’s about to feed someone to a god. She steps behind you and begins slowly—gloved fingers trailing over your ass, the setting low. The first jolt is a tickle. A buzz. Almost pleasant.

You've never even heard of electrostim before, let alone tried it, but as your flesh tingles to the dance of electrons, you can't help but start shivering in arousal. This is going to be fun, you think.

Then she dials it up.

Another stroke. Deeper, hotter. The clamps shift and jolt as every touch brings another muscular spasm, adding more sparks to your already overwhelmed nervous system.

“Let’s see how long you can dance, little mouse.” She tweaks the dial again. “Time for the crescendo.”

She steps to your side, glove crackling faintly with visible arcs. Don’t blink. I want the whole camera to see this.”

She reaches for your cock.

Your scream is silent at first—then it bursts free, primal and full-throated, your whole body locking against the stocks. Your eyes fly wide and lock directly into the camera as your orgasm hits—pain and pleasure so tangled it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

When it finally fades, you sag in the stocks, panting, every nerve in your body singing. Kailani removes the glove with a dramatic flourish, shaking it off and letting the chat bask in the aftermath.

“You boys really don’t last long under pressure,” she says, holding up her hand in mock disappointment. “But damn if you don’t make it fun.”

She walks a slow circle around you, still glowing with power.

“One ruined cock, one live humiliation, and one thousand dollars later… Well, we're almost out of time here, so who's got the last request?"