There were lots of good ways to do electric play, really.
Tie it into an interrogation scene. Simple neon wand sensation play. A tens unit on sensitive spots. Pair it with a conductive flogger whipping or conductive rope bondage. Plenty of options.
When Clara had said, "We should do electricity again soon," this was not what she had in mind.
"I—hate you," she panted, breathing labored and painful. So much sweat dripped down her bare skin, drops actually fell to the floor. She dragged herself back up into the plank position from the playroom floor, again. Failing to hold it, again, was what had gotten her the shock that provoked the comment. The shock collar was around her thigh, not her neck, given the presence of her normal collar, a few safety factors, and the pink marks the two prods left, but the area was definitely becoming sensitive, and she was pretty sure the remote in Jen's hand was at setting 99.
"I know, darling."
The whip came at her back again, sharp little bites of pain, there and gone. A little signal whip Jen flicked at her as she circled her. Her skin was burning, the whip and the exertion both. Her arms trembled dangerously. Fuck. No, she could do this.
She had looked up in a moment of defiance, still not finding an angle to meet Jen's eyes as she paced in front of her, but she hung her head again in exhaustion more than submission quickly.
She writhed at the sting of the whip, giving a dangerous challenge to the position she held. She'd like to think that she'd actually done much better at this than Jen had expected. She'd seen the surprise even when she tried to hide it. Lest one forget she'd been doing dance and gymnastics since she was three and was a heavy masochist who exercised compulsively. She had some strength even if Jen had fifty pounds on her that usually helped more than hurt in their tussling.
Still, she was getting exhausted. She fell again, squirming away from the whip a little too far, losing her fragile hold on the position.
The shock came immediately—a little too quickly, perhaps more the moment she had started to falter than the moment she hit the floor, she thought bitterly, a long one that made her leg spasm visibly, especially when paired with the exhaustion, the rest of her body twitching. She cried out, but didn't move to get back up. Her entire body shook. She panted, and hissed, "Fuck," when she got shocked again, the spot itself burning, but still couldn't find it in her to so much as lift her head. "I..." She couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Yes, you hate me," Jen finished for her, amused. "You have no idea why you subject yourself to this." The whip came again. Her back, her ass, her thighs. She didn't even care, if she could lie here for a minute. She closed her eyes. "You regret everything and I am the worst thing that ever happened to you, hmm~?"
"And you will totally, absolutely still hate me tomorrow, and I'll have to lock you in here so you don't try to escape. You will totally not get off on this in, like, three minutes, and say we should do it again sometime."
"Uh huh." She hissed as the whip hit a sensitive spot.
"And you totally don't want to cuddle and do the whole innocent, 'I love you, Mistress,' routine you always do after you declare you hate me."
She cried out when the collar shocked her again. Whimpered. "Okay! ... Okay. Can we skip to the getting off part now?"
Jen laughed. "'Can we skip to the getting off part now'. Slaves these days, I swear."
Jen hummed noncommittally.
"I love you and you're the bestest Owner ever?"
Jen pulled her back to something like kneeling by the hair, considerably damp with sweat. Clara whined as sat back on the marks of the whip. "There you go. Touch yourself."
Clara did eagerly. She was plenty wet, oh so miserable or not. Sighed as she stroked her clit, almost oversensitive, slid her fingers lower and slipped two inside herself, shifted for a better angle. That was it. She moaned, clenching around her own hand, fucking herself as fast as exhaustion allowed.
"You poor thing," Jen said, rolling her eyes.
Clara nuzzled against her leg. Sleepy and sated was the light at the end of the tunnel.
Jen pet her hair obligingly, then yanked on it.
Clara whimpered, looking up at her.
"You want to skip to the getting off part now~?" Jen asked.
Clara did, crying out loudly and continuously. She trembled and rocked into her own touch, clenching slowing, cries fading back to whimpers. She panted, laid her head on Jen's thigh, whispered, "Thank you, Mistress."
Jen hit the remote one more time. Clara yelped.
"You're welcome, darling."