Willing To Do Anything: Katie Kush and Tommy Pistol

Katie Kush built herself an empire, but the skeletons are catching up. Tommy Pistol slipped into her place, looking for the dirt that could wreck her. He found the drive. Then she walked in. Cops on her tongue until he showed her what he had. One glance at the evidence and she folded. Still he didn’t trust the sudden obedience, so the rope came out. Katie ended up bound, legs spread, ass up, her expensive clothes ripped open. Tommy Pistol used her like he meant it: deep throat, spit running down her chin, her blonde hair clenched in his fist. He shoved his thick cock into that dripping pussy, slapped her ass until it glowed, switched to her mouth again when he wanted. Every moan sounded like surrender and lust at once. Pain punctuated every thrust—his belt across her thighs, clamps biting her nipples—yet she pushed back for more. By the time he was finished she was glossy with sweat and spit, wrists still tied. He painted her face and tits with hot cum, dropped the drive on the floor, and walked out, leaving her twitching and dripping in the empty room.