Kelara was intelligent. With a high aptitude for learning from a young age, along with a vivid imagination, those who knew her growing up would have proclaimed her a genius. In some ways, she was. Kelara was able to deduce and discover things that the vast majority of her peers would have never succeeded in doing, and further, she loved to craft. By the time Kelara was a young adult, she had already done something that only the rare and talented mage had ever accomplished. Kelara had tamed lightning, and she'd done this without a drop of magic in her veins.
The key was metal. It was widely known that if one were to rub their feet across the wool carpets and proceed to touch a metal handle, they would be shocked. Few in her town ever really wondered why, except Kelara. She was quick to deduce that for whatever reason, lightning preferred to flow along metal similar to how rivers liked to flow along land. She reasoned the act of rubbing her feet across wool generated very small amounts of lightning. She supposed it made sense why lightning leapt from the sky during storms, if the clouds were made of wool.
Taking this knowledge, Kelara set out to create lightning. While she was quick to figure out that rotating a sphere across a wool surface worked better than rubbing her hands back and forth, it took extensive testing to discover a glass sphere worked the best to produce shocks most quickly. Far far longer did it take Kelara to discover how to store her lightning. However one night, after returning from the local tavern, she stumbled upon a breakthrough using the bottle of booze in her hand.
Drunk as she was, she decided perhaps a bottle could store lightning as well as it could store alcohol. It was a wild idea, but at this point she was out of them. Kelara took a very thin sheet of metal and wrapped it around the glass, hoping to trick the lightning into going inside. Figuring she needed an easy path for it to travel in, she drove a nail through the cork. She left the alcohol inside simply because she didn't have a handy place to put it. Besides, when this didn't work she wanted to finish it.
With the final touch of a metal chain hooked around the nail head, then draped over a wooden beam to rest upon the glass sphere, Kelara began to spin the glass ball over the wool with one hand while holding the bottle in the other.
She spun and spun the ball, not seeing any lightning what-so-ever. Eventually she gave up. Kelara set the bottle upon the table, and pulled the chain down from the overhead beam. As she did so, the chain fell and came in contact with the thin metal sheet wrapped around the bottle. A sudden flash and a 'crack!' like lightning made the girl jump. Her hand knocked the glass off of the table where it shattered on the stone floor below, but Kelara wasn't upset at her lost beverage. She was grinning ear to ear, realizing she had just done the impossible. Kelara had created and stored lightning.
This new alchemy – tamed lightning – spread across the land like wildfire. However, as is unfortunately typical, the one who made the original discovery was not the one who primarily profited from it. Kelara's genius was stolen and replicated. It was refined into better versions, and implemented into crude machines that could make use of such charge. From all of this, Kelara saw not an ounce of gold. Whilst upset, the girl moved on. Greater and brighter inventions awaited, and she would make sure she was properly rewarded for these.
As such, Kelara began working in secret, alone. Her solitude offered privacy and increased productivity, but as she spent further time in her workshop her social life slowly suffocated. Kelara would wake up early, shutting the barn doors behind her at the crack of dawn, only to emerge after the sun had long set when she would return home and crash into bed. Over time as this cycle repeated, her friends grew distant. Eventually, to avoid the trips to and from the house, she moved her bed into the workshop. Ample covers kept her warm during the cold nights.
Kelara repaired things to earn an income, but in her free time she crafted gadgets. She learned which metals allowed lighting to flow the strongest. She learned that some metals put out bright light when enough lightning was pushed through, while other materials seemed to slow this flow down. She learned that a warm heat could be created with similar configurations. Kelara devised a simple lever meant to allow or stop all flow of lighting depending if it was open or closed. She expanded upon this with a spring to create what she called a 'pusher', which had to be held down for the lightning to flow. Kelara even came up with a device that, when powered with lightning, would prevent lightning from traveling out of her bottles, and otherwise allow it. This device, she called an inverter.
However, without fail, after each and every discovery Kelara made, she would emerge from her workshop only to find someone else had invented her device already. The world around her was moving too fast, and the poor girl just couldn't keep up. It was incredibly frustrating, but she pressed on. This cycle continued, until one day she didn't emerge from bed. Instead, she simply lay there, defeated. The direction she was pursuing was already being pursued. She needed to come up with something new, completely new, which had never been pursued before.
This was much harder said, than done.
As Kelara lay in her bed, alone and secluded, her hands began to wander. This wasn't the first time she'd explored her own body, slipping them beneath her shirt and across the peaks of her breasts. It wasn't the first time she'd slid one hand low, under her waistband and into the wet valley between her legs. She had done this many times before, the frequency of which had been growing as her frustrations with her failed work ever mounted. This time however, as Kelara's fingers slipped in and out of her in the same way they always did, the girl began to crave something new. Her slick fingers were removed, and her eyes opened. She surveyed her workshop with a creative curiosity.
Kelara located her broom. The handle itself was long and tubular, however the awkward length and threat of splinters drove the girl to search elsewhere. She next came across a metal pipe of similar girth. This was shorter and easier to wield, but the pipe was hollow and the edges were sharp. She needed something better suited for such a task. She needed something... malleable. Her lustful eyes landed upon a lump of clay.
At this point, she was fully dedicated. Determined in her quest to create the perfect substitute for her fingers, she grabbed the clay and began to work it. A long tube was rolled and thickened. She added the clay in layers, increasing the mass until she reached a size that satisfied her. Quickly she brought the object to her furnace and placed it inside to cook. However, now she had to wait several hours. With her patience now low, and her neediness high, Kelara succumbed to her bed again. Her writhes of pleasure were driven by the same hands as before, but this time her mind was filled with steamy possibilities.
The clay rod worked wonderfully, once it had properly cooled. Kelara had tested it out as soon as she was able. Twice that morning she eagerly approached her bedside where her new toy awaited, and twice she left in a satisfied bliss. It was a new, beautiful cycle for Kelara that she participated in at least once each day. She found that on the mornings she did not, her mind was nothing but foggy and wanting. Yet after some time of repeating this routine, she once again began craving more. So Kelara pursued a new experience.
She rolled and molded dozens of clay rods in various shapes and sizes, lengths and girths. Some of them were less like rods than others. She tried adding a curve. She tried bumps and ribbed surfaces. She tried stranger shapes that were still smooth but irregular in the ways they narrowed and widened. Dozens were cooked and tested. During one rather ambitious crafting session, she made two rods that were overly large. Her thinking had been hazy from her cravings at that time, so after satisfying herself and later pulling these from the oven, she became too weary to try them out. Kelara was fearful they would stretch her too far. They were dumped into a box and forgotten. She had plenty others to pick from, anyway.
This variety satisfied Kelara for some time, however, there was one recurring problem. When she lay in bed using these wonderful clay rods, her wrists and arm would sometimes grow tired. Kelara wished to feel the rod moving in and out of her quickly without such exertions. Being the wonderful problem solver she was, Kelara set out to make a device.
It didn't take long for the clever girl to realize she could use a wheel. One metal rod, shorter than the wheel's radius, would be attached to an off center position along the spokes with an extremely short length of rope. This rope gave the rod just enough slack to turn and rotate. A second rod, this one longer, would be fastened to the other end of the first using rope in a similar manner. The rope would grip notches on the rods to prevent slippage, and therefore keep the ends close together with just enough slack. This configuration allowed the shorter rod to push and pull the other as the wheel turned.
This wheel stood upright and was set into a wooden chassis. The axles were lubricated, allowing it to spin smoothly. The longer metal rod was inserted through a short tube fixed to this chassis. This would keep the second rod moving along only one axis. As the wheel turned, the first, shorter rod pushed and pulled the longer one. Kelara observed with keen interest just how fast she could get the machine to thrust.
Stirrups were added to the wheel next so her feet could do the work. Atop the chassis a soft woolen seat with a hole cut through its center was mounted. Kelara devised a way to screw her clay rods onto the metal rod of her thrusting device, and made measurements such that the shaped clay emerged through the seat properly. At the apex of its height she would have nearly the full length of the clay buried inside of her; at the lowest, only the tip of the rod would remain inserted.
The night that her machine was completed was the night her mind shattered. The machine was perfect, far more effective than she could have imagined. Her eyes rolled back. She shook and spasmed so hard that her feet slipped out of the stirrups. Kelara barely caught herself before she tumbled sideways onto the floor. She didn’t want to injure herself during her sessions, so it seemed there was certainly room for some safety improvements.
In order to ensure she remained on the seat and to prevent any falls, Kelara added several belts. When secured, two thick straps of leather would hug her upper thighs and keep her hips down on the seat. Her knees were left free to allow her to churn the wheel, but her feet would be strapped tightly into the stirrups to prevent any slippage. To ensure she remained upright, two more leather straps were added. These were designed to go above and below her breasts, keeping her back up against a seat back she’d installed.
Beyond this, Kelara modified the device to make the seat slightly adjustable, up and down by roughly one inch. Her collection of clay rods came in various sizes, and she found that some were more effective if she seated herself lower, while others required her to raise the seat higher. All of these modifications to her machine worked wonderfully, and Kelara found herself frequently held by the snug embrace of leather straps as she eagerly spun the wheel beneath her.
One day, Kelara left her workshop. She traveled to the town market, and then took a carriage out to the nearest city. She purchased board at an inn, and then the next morning she took another carriage out to a settlement further away. Kelara searched as she traveled from place to place. She visited every nearby market she could find and looked for any vendor selling a device like hers... and she found none. Once again, Kelara had imagined and created something wholly unique. She'd devised something no other mind had. This realization filled her with eager excitement. She had something new she could sell and claim as hers! No longer would she need to make boring repairs to get by. She could instead sell her machine and make a mountain of gold!
However, not quite yet. Kelara had learned from her previous mistake. Her first invention had been crude, and she’d spouted about her creation of tame lightning to all that would listen. It allowed others to steal her idea and revise it. Thus they were the ones to profit. She would not fall victim to this. She would improve upon the machine until it was perfect. Only then would she haul it into the city to sell to claim her fortune. So, Kelara returned home.
For the next several weeks, Kelara worked hard. She modified, tested, redesigned, and added onto her contraption. With each trial run, she strived for a better experience with stronger sensations, and with each iteration she delivered on this. By the time the final device was finished, it looked vastly different. No longer was it a crude amalgamation of parts and pieces she’d found lying around. Now it was a well made, purpose built machine capable of doing so much more.
City markets operated on something of a cycle, and the first of the month was almost always the day of highest traffic. On this morning she purchased a carriage and hauled her contraption into the city. She kept it covered with one of her largest blankets as she rolled it on a cart into the middle of the square. Kelara found no trouble gathering an initial crowd; the large and mysterious contraption drew curiosity by itself as she worked under the blanket to ready it for display. Kelara placed a number of spare parts and excess items off to the side, so she could fix anything that broke as needed. Then, she yanked off the blanket to reveal her genius to all in the land.
The sight of such a device evoked confusion. The citizens of the city knew not what they were looking at, so Kelara tried to explain. She showed off the strangely shaped clay rods and held up the safety straps along the seat of the device. With one hand, she turned the wheel with attached stirrups, and the rope gears she added turned two smaller wheels behind it. Two rods thrust up and down through the seat at different speeds. Due to the way Kelara had geared them, the front thrusting rod was approximately 2.69 times faster than the back one.
The young woman continued, attempting to explain how the glass ball below turned in tune with the main wheel, and that the woolen pelt it rubbed upon would generate tamed lightning through the dainty chain draped over top. She traced her fingers along this lightning chain, as she called it, demonstrating the flow to where it would become trapped in bottles mounted to the back of the seat. She pointed to a simple yet ingenious tension contraption. There was rope stuffed into a groove along the circumference of the back-most wheel, and the wood inside of this groove had been left purposefully rough so that it could lightly grab the rope as the wheel turned. A weight attached to the rope at the front of the wheel kept the rope from slipping out of this groove, and the back was attached to a spring. When the wheels turned, the rough groove would pull upon the rope, stretching the spring slightly. This stretch was enough to pull a metal contact point away from the metal conduits of her lightning bottles. If the wheels ever became too slow, the spring would drag the rope back and the two pieces of metal would make contact and lightning would be released.
Once again she traced further thin chains that extended from the bottles. Lightning chains attached to the outside of the bottles ran to the seat where metal plates were exposed and meant to come in contact with the rider’s legs. Other chains were attached to the nails of the jars, and carefully routed away from the others where they hung loose at the sides of the seat back. The ends of these dainty chains could be stuck to the rider’s body with sticky sap-paper, which would hold the chains in place.
Kelara reached into a box beside her and pulled out two strings with loops on one end, tied to clothes pins at the other. She draped this string over a horizontal bar mounted in front of the seat, which hovered at chest height above where Kelara’s mid thighs would be. The woman took two small metal balls with hooks wielded to the top, and hung these weights from the loop in the strings. She tried to explain that gravity would pull upon whatever the clothespins gripped.
Finally, Kelara turned her attention to the wooden stocks she’d mounted at the top of the device. These stocks had three holes, all facing upwards, one the rider’s neck and two for each wrist. They were lined with soft leather for comfort, but were tight enough to remain secure. The door to the stocks swung open horizontally on a hinge, and when swung closed, a spring-loaded clasp on the other side would snap shut to prevent the stocks from simply swinging back open. Lastly, at the front center of these stocks was a short rail. Kelara pulled an attachment out of the box. This attachment could be slid along the metal rail sitting in front of the rider’s face. Connected to this attachment was one of her shorter clay rods, wrapped in a thick layer of leather. Kelara had found that during testing, it was beneficial to have something she could bite down upon when shocked. She also just liked the way it felt to have something long and hard shoved into her mouth.
However, throughout her long winded demonstration, her onlookers slowly began to dissipate. None of them were imaginative enough to grasp how all of these concepts would work together. Laying eyes upon the thinning crowd, Kelara grew desperate. They needed to see. They needed to understand. If they didn't, no one would make a purchase and all of her work would be for nothing!
Quickly, Kelara crouched down. She unscrewed the two clay rods from the device and set them to the side. She ensured her skirt was out of the way as she took a seat upon her contraption. Kelara buckled the safety straps, one along each of her upper thighs. She bent forwards and strapped her feet into the stirrups. Kelara buckled a safety strap across her abdomen, and then reached up to slip her arms into two straps that hugged her shoulders, and ran beneath her armpits. All were tightened to be snug.
Kelara rested her neck in the groove of the wooden stocks. She closed it around her neck and the spring loaded clasp clicked shut. She left her arms free, warning the remaining crowd that if the rider was solo, she should not put her wrists in as she would be unable to release the clasp. Instead, she grabbed one of the hanging chains in her palm for demonstration purposes. Now that she was properly seated, Kelara began to pump her feet to turn the wheel.
The empty rods below thrust up and down. At their apex they pushed into the holes of the seat but did not tap against Kelara’s crotch. The metal rods increased and slowed in speed dependent on how fast she moved her legs, however they always moved at the same ratio to one another, creating that irregular cycle of movement Kelara had learned to crave. The glass ball also connected via rope gears, spun steadily against the wool. It generated lighting to trap in the bottles behind her, though this wasn't highlighted until Kelara stopped turning the wheel. She clenched her jaw, bracing herself for a sharp shock, and she yelped when the crack of tamed lightning sounded behind her, and the jolt leapt into her hand. Kelara began pumping her legs again, and rope was pulled, stretching the string to separate the metal contact points. The lightning stopped discharging.
By this time, it had become clear to everyone in the square just exactly what this device did. Many women turned to leave, red in the face, and the few mothers ushered away their children. Some however, stayed, and Kelara’s audience began to grow a little again. Mostly males were now gathered, looking at Kelara and her machine with intense intrigue and interest. There were also a handful of females that remained, the majority of whom had blush stained cheeks and distant eyes, glazed over from the images they were now imagining.
Kelara grinned as some of the onlookers walked closer. Finally they understood. She could see the greed in their eyes and she could almost feel the gold that would be weighing her bag during the long trip home. One male bent down and picked up the looped strings she'd shown off prior. Another picked up the supplemental biting attachment and walked around behind her. It was hard for Kelara to see him, as the way she was strapped in prevented her from turning her torso to look. The man behind unclasped the stock’s fastener, and swung the end open. He slid the leather wrapped mouth rod onto the rails, finding that it clicked in place thanks to another spring loaded fastener.
Kelara was appreciative of their interest, but she really wished they wouldn’t put their hands on her merchandise before purchasing. She parted her lips to politely ask them to set these things down, but only a gasp was heard as a third, unseen man grabbed her wrists from behind. The male who had just clicked the mouth attachment in, reached down and ripped Kelara’s panties off. Swiftly he wrapped them around the mouth rod as Kelara protested and tugged at the man holding her wrists. Then the one holding the stocks reached out and twisted her nipple hard. The woman cried out from the pain, opening her mouth wide. Kelara's hands were pulled into their respective slots along the stocks and then the thing was slammed shut.
The leather padded rod filled her mouth, pressing her tongue down. The metal clasp clicked closed, out of reach of Kelara's fingers. The undergarment stolen from between her legs were shamefully wet from her demonstrations, and she could taste her own arousal as it was pressed onto her tongue. She tried to spit it out, but the leather mouthpiece was too wide for her to do so. The tip tickled the back of her throat, and made her gag if she didn’t lean her head completely back. Kelara cried out, trying to form the words required to request their halt, but the only sounds she made were unintelligible mumbles.
The woman's top was ripped open after. Clothespins were clamped over her nipples and she flinched at the sharp pinch. The strings tied to these were draped over the horizontal bar mounted in front of her, and small metal weights were hung from the loops. Kelara emitted a muffled cry as the man added a few more weights, more than she'd ever dared suffer during her tests. She arched her chest forwards to relieve some of the strain on her nipples, and the straps holding her stomach and shoulder bit into her. Kelara was successful in extending the string enough to allow the weights to rest on her thighs, removing the pain from her nipples. However, leaning forwards like this, the rod in her mouth pressed into her throat. The woman gagged and pulled her chest back. Kelara now had to choose between a terrible pain in her nipples, and triggering her gag reflex.
It was at this time the men attached the lightning chains to her body. While Kelara couldn't look down to see them doing it, she recognized the feeling of the sap-paper. She knew exactly what it was that they'd stuck to her. Two were placed upon the outsides of her breasts. Then to her horror, two more were placed against her inner thighs, on either side of her womanhood. She tried to shake her head frantically, but the rod lodged deep into her mouth didn’t leave much room for her to move, and shaking like this was causing the weights on her nipples to bounce and jangle.
One of the males picked up a box lying next to her. Rummaging through it, he found her extensive collection of clay rods. Kelara was hysterical when the male, predictably, pulled out the two largest options he could find. These were the rods Kelara hadn't yet dared to try. The ones she should have thrown into the river instead of lugging around like a keepsake. One man held the main wheel still, preventing Kelara from turning it with her legs, while the other knelt down beside her. The wheel was rotated so the back metal rod was at its lowest point. The other man took the first giant clay rod and pushed it upwards into the back-most seat hole.
Kelara felt the tip pushing against her anus. She squeezed as hard as she could, fighting against its entry, but the man was applying the stronger force. He worked the tip into her rear, stretching her hole wide. The clay rod that he had chosen was the one that grew girthy and then thin, like bulbs skewered on a rod, repeating a total of four times along the massive length. Once the tip slipped inside and her rectum stretched around the widest part of the first bulb, her ass sucked it the rest of the way inside. Kelara could feel the rod spinning inside of her as the man screwed it into the base. After several twists, the back insert was securely installed.
Kelara squirmed when the other man turned the main wheel. Slowly the second bulbous head pushed its way into her rectum. Once again, half way up her ass sucked it the rest of the way inside. Kelara felt her rectum stretch and close along each of the large bumps as the thing was gradually driven fully into her. Sparks of pleasure danced across the back of her skull and she clenched her jaw, squeezing some of the juices out of her panties. The saliva that had been pooling in her mouth began to dribble out and drip down her chin.
Kelara knew what was next, and soon enough she felt something huge pressing against her nether lips. With how lubricated she was, the tip of this rod had little issue slipping inside. It stretched her walls tightly, and again she felt it twist within her as the man secured it to the machine. Kelara tried to counteract the man this time, but her legs were no match against his massive arms. The main wheel turned once more. As the rod slid inside of her, Kelara could feel in great detail every bump and rib she had added along its length. She cursed herself for being so through in the crafting process.
As the front rod inched its way into her, the back one slowly pulled out. Kelara shuttered at the wonderful feeling, and the men forced the wheel to turn several revolutions just to make sure everything was functioning properly. Judging by the way Kelara was drooling, they figured it was. Now that the device and Kelara were ready, the men stood and admired their work.
Kelara was impaled upon two massive intruders. Her hips were sealed to the bottom of the seat with leather straps and her feet were fastened into the stirrups. The poor woman was forced to choose between pressing her back against the chair and enduring the heavy pull on her nipples, or leaning forward, arching her back, and suppressing her gag reflex to grant her breasts some relief. Her arms were held up beside her head; the stocks kept her neck and wrists trapped within. Any words or pleas she tried to form were muffled by the large rod stuffed into her mouth, accompanied by her ripe panties pressing against her tongue. Kelara was trapped and at the mercy of her device, but nothing else happened. She refused to pump the wheel. The lightning chains that dangled over her attached to her breasts and crotch, were dormant. There was no built up charge yet. Kelara knew if she began pumping that wheel, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
The crowd around her began to grow upset. They were waiting for a show, but her legs refused to move. The bottle had to be charged each session, and that required a bit of work. It was a safety mechanism she had left in place to ensure that only a small amount of tame lightning would build up in the bottles. It would be enough to incentivise movement, but also enough for her to endure for a few moments until the charge ran out. She considered herself lucky, because she had almost brought charged bottles with her. However, that feeling of luck was quickly sunk.
A man emerged from the crowd, and with him he carried a bottle. She recognized it immediately. It was a bottle of lightning that he promised was fully charged. It was a stolen version of Kelara's invention, here to do her in. Her eyes flew open wide and he trotted to the center of the square. The woman fought against her restraints as he inspected her device to determine how the bottles were meant to be replaced. She thrashed as he quickly deduced this, removing one of the bottles behind her and sliding in in the new one. He held the tension mechanism as he did to prevent premature discharge, but as soon as he let go, Kelara’s muscles flexed and her entire body tried to arc.
The woman cried out at the lightning that flowed into her tits and crotch. It burned like a hot fire. The fully charged bottle was far stronger than Kelara had ever played with, and she quickly began pumping her legs and tears welled up in her eyes.
The burning fire of the had lightning stopped, but it was replaced by the sensation of two over-sized intruders thrusting steadily in and out of her. The feeling was almost painful, yet slowly it shifted into something highly pleasurable. Her body shuddered as she was stuffed full over and over. The vibrations from the machine as it worked were causing the strings attached to her nipples to vibrate too. The weights swung lightly in front of her, sending sharp pains and confusingly odd pleasures into her stretched breasts. Kelara leaned forward, gagging a little as the tip of the mouth rod pushed past her tonsils. She was only able to hold this position for a few seconds before she pulled those cursed weights into the air again.
The drool that slipped from her mouth was beginning to puddle upon the surface of the stocks that trapped her neck and wrists. Kelara's toes curled and her stomach tightened. Despite her desperate desire to escape this torture device, she had been growing very horny. Now that the rods were pumping, Kelara was yet again being delivered an experience she'd never before had. Her arousal had begun to skyrocket because she knew she couldn’t stop. Not unless she wanted to feel that blinding pain of lightning once more.
Kelara moaned as the machine churned and creaked. She thrashed a bit in one moment, wanting to be free, and she trembled in the next as those giant clay rods continued their cycle. In and out they thrust. The bulbous humps of her anal intruder raked along her rectum, stretching it wide over and over. The ribs and bumps she'd given the vaginal insert were felt in full, and practically vibrated her walls as it thrust up and down at a higher speed. The glass ball crackled with lightning below as it charged the other bottles, ensuring that Kelara would never be without its fiery sting. She could feel it coming. The orgasm building within her was looming. She tried to stave it off. She didn't want to give satisfaction to this perverted crowd that smiled and watched her struggles with wide, glistening eyes. It was inevitable though, and she knew it.
Once more in desperation, Kelara thrashed against her bonds. As hard as she could she shook the device. This shake was the final straw for the overused and worn out wooden pins along her adjustable seat. This seat and adjuster had been installed in the device since the beginning, and over so many trial runs, they were long ready to give. It was at this moment they did. Suddenly, Kelara's body dropped as her seat’s adjuster mechanism snapped. The seat fell from the highest setting to its lowest adjustment. The distance wasn't all that far. From the outside it looked like she'd dropped maybe an inch, but with her largest clay rods pounding into her, that was an inch that Kelara could feel.
She almost stopped pumping the wheel, but caught herself before she was shocked. Kelara rode on. Those giant rods were now reaching into her deepest recesses, the tip just tapping the end of her tunnel. With the climax she had been holding off, that increased inch of penetration drove Kelara wild. She exploded. She saw stars as her eyes rolled back. Her body wracked in her binds, and drool spilled from her mouth. Her mind went blank and her body shook as she orgasmed hard, both of her holes gripping those clay rods for dear life. Kelara felt pure, toe tingling bliss race up her spine. Then in the next moment, that sensation was interrupted by pure, scorching fire.
Lightning coursed through Kelara's body the instant she stopped pumping. Her eyes flew open and she screamed into her gag. She jolted forwards and choked, then slammed her body back against the seat, causing her nipple weights to bounce up and down. The hot pain of her tamed lightning burned against her breasts and pussy. Tears amassed in her eyes as she frantically began pumping again.
Her amazing, wonderful, mind blowing orgasm had just been ruined. It had been ripped out from under her like a rug, and dumped her mind far from the lustful fog that had previously enveloped her. Kelara had to pump. She couldn't stop. Kelara did NOT want to feel that pain again.
And so, she continued. She pumped that wheel as the surrounding crowd ogled her predicament. Kelara drove the thrusts of those girthy intruders as they cycled in and out of her sensitive holes. She put on a show, the wildest show any of the citizens of that city had ever seen and one they would truly never forget. Kelara did it because she had to. She did it to avoid the punishment of the lightning, but she also did it in chase of that high. That sweet, wonderful bliss of the orgasm that she so desperately desired, driven by an arousal that somehow, despite her horrible situation, was as heightened as it had ever been.
Kelara came. She came again and again, over and over. Sometimes she kept pumping her legs, sometimes she slipped up and was punished with the excruciating, hot bite of her lightning. After each climax, ruined or enjoyed, she continued to pump. Every orgasm she experienced left her more exhausted than the last. Her thighs burned, but not nearly as badly as that lightning. Her holes were raw from friction, but still those intruders flooded her brain with pleasure. She wasn't sure if she'd become blind to the taste of her own juices, or if she'd simply drooled enough to completely wash her panties out.
By the third or fourth orgasm, members of the crowd had come to join her. The men took turns freeing their throbbing bulges, and stroking their cocks around her. Each one eventually came, and when they did, they slung warm, white semen all over Kelara's body. Some of it hit her in the face, other strands landed across her breasts or in her hair. Some landed upon her legs and thighs, and one male took the effort to cum into Kelara’s hands before wiping his cock off on her face. She could feel his sticky seed forming strands between her fingers, but she couldn’t see it. By this point Kelara had so much cum dripping down her brow that she was forced to keep both of her eyes closed. Her clothes were eventually stripped from her and the semen that covered and soaked into them was freshly replaced. By the seventh orgasm (or was it nine?) the young woman was completely naked. She was wearing nothing but her chair. She was spat upon, ejaculated on, cock slapped, and laughed at.
All that she needed was one single person. One decent human from that crowd to walk over and release the metal clasp on her stocks. If she could just get one person to do that, she could reach behind her and rip that bottled lighting off of the chair. Kelara needed one kind soul to put a stop to this cruelty. Yet she couldn’t call out to ask. Her mouth was stuffed, and the only ones that volunteered to step forwards were the ones that subsequently dropped their pants.
Kelara was a sweaty, cummy, exhausted mess. She was stuck in the center of a cruel city, trapped in a cycle of her own devious creation. She came and she screamed and she cried and she came. She pumped her legs and shook against her bonds. For all in the city to see, she relentlessly worked the mechanical cycle she sat upon. Her cycle. That cycle she'd so lovingly crafted - so foolishly completed - now tormented her without an end in sight. She cursed unintelligibly, eyes hidden behind closed lids directed up towards the sky - but the only one she could truly curse was herself. She'd done this, and now she had to endure it.
Kelara spammed as another orgasmic wave crashed through her. She’d lost count as to what number this one was, and still she continued to ride.