Freshmeat Monday on The Upper Floor with Dana Vixen

They’ve got Dana Vixen stripped bare on the wooden floor, arms locked behind her back. Ropes bite into her tits, pulling them high and tight, nipples hard from the chill or the fear—hard to tell which. She’s on her knees, tits heaving, ass presented like an offering. They don’t wait. First come the hands, rough, grabbing, spreading her cheeks. Then the plug, thick and unforgiving, shoved in without mercy until her asshole yields. She gasps, but doesn’t flinch. They call it testing. She calls it Tuesday. Her mouth fills next—cock after cock, spit running down her chin as she struggles to keep up. Every time she gags, someone slaps her ass, just to remind her where she is. They make her crawl, tits swinging, ass plugged and leaking. When she hesitates, they yank her up by the hair and bend her over the bench. The anal comes fast after that, deep and relentless, every thrust driving her forward until her face hits the wood. She takes it, breathing hard, sweat-slick and trembling. By the end her thighs are shaking, her hole gaping, and they’re still not sure she’s broken in enough. So they keep going.