Bramble thought she could sneak past Gidiklama’s iron gates with her damning evidence. She thought wrong. The moment the ropes bite into her wrists, five suited enforcers loom overhead, each pair of eyes dripping with cruel anticipation. The restraints pin her, arms high, ankles split wide, back arching. Tonya steps forward in razor-sharp stilettos, magic wand humming at her side. Every finger that lands on Bramble’s ribs is a shockwave; the first stroke across her feet makes her whole body buck. Fingers swarm her armpits, soles, under every toe, behind both knees, a relentless storm of unbearable sensation. The room fills with her screams turned wild laughter, then breathless whimpers as the wand glides against the slick silk between her thighs. Tonya orchestrates the onslaught with surgical precision: a tongue tracing the shell of Bramble’s ear while two men rake nails up and down her arches, another pair digging into her hip bones. Panties cling, soaked and useless. She thrashes against rope cuffs, but each jerk only spreads her wider, inviting new torment. The wand teases, retreats, teases again until Bramble’s resolve fractures in shuddering gasps. Information spills from her lips between broken giggles, but the tickles don’t stop—they intensify. Bastinado strikes **** across her soles in perfect sync with electric buzzes at her clit. Her body convulses in helpless pleasure, every muscle stretched to ****ping point. By the time the last finger lifts, Bramble is drenched, wrung-out, utterly conquered. The clip fades on her tear-streaked face, still twitching from phantom touches long after the cuffs click open. Own the evidence that brought Gidiklama’s bravest whistleblower to her knees
