Alice In Wonderland

She asked for it. Her own fucked-up mind set the trap, and now the straps do the talking. Buckles snap tight across pale skin and panic starts to bloom behind her eyes. She fights the cuffs, heels kicking uselessly in the air, and the harder she twists the deeper the restraint bites. Blonde hair sticks to her sweat-slicked forehead as each ragged breath shoves her bare tits higher. They’re real, soft, swinging with every useless pull against the leather. His cock, already bare and cut, hangs heavy between her spread thighs—an unspoken promise she can’t look away from. The room shrinks to the sound of her heels scraping, the smell of leather and wet cunt, and the slow, deliberate way he steps in to remind her she’s going nowhere.