Gal Ritchie: Predicament Bondage, Torment, and Suffering Makes for a Happy Gal

Gal Ritchie shows up with one goal and zero mercy for herself. She picked this spot, picked this moment, and now she’s locked in hemp like a fly in a web. The rope pins every inch of her. The Pope starts testing what hurts and what doesn’t. Nipple clamps go on; she barely blinks. He swaps them for nastier ones and adds weights. That gets her attention. Clover clamps bite her outer lips next, weights hanging heavy, and finally she starts to quiet down and listen. He decides to fuck the truth out of her. Orgasms, he bets, will crack her open. Next she’s strung up in a cruel single-column around the waist, hips biting against the rope while wrists, ankles, and neck fight in opposite directions. Every pull feels aimed at her bones. He crops the soft spots, then drives a dildo down her throat and up her cunt until she gushes. Last, she’s folded over the wooden horse, soaked wood under her belly, stretched tight. The flogger rains down while the vibe stays glued to her clit. Her eyes roll, her mouth foams around the gag, and she still keeps a secret or two. The Pope smiles. Round two is already booked.