Katrina Colt: Pain Slut in the Making

Katrina Colt wants it rough. The Pope straps her down in heavy leather first, arms pinned, legs spread, and she shudders like the restraints have already fucked her head. Clothespins bite her inner thighs and tits; she groans through the pain and the thrill. Steel takes over next. He locks her spread-eagle on a cold table, cattle prod crackling at her skin. Each jolt makes her twist and beg louder. Last, the rig tilts her forward, steel bar pinning her hips, thick leather belts cinched tight. The Pope swings hard, leaves marks, then drives orgasm after orgasm through her until the spit runs down her chin and her legs shake. She asked to go deeper. He made damn sure she did.