Pure savage Bliss

Liv Revamped’s back, arched over a wooden beam, wrists and ankles lashed to the floor so every inch of her is open. The Pope doesn’t ease in—he swings the flogger hard across her stomach, her crotch, her tits, each strike snapping wet. Rope circles her waist, nipple clamps bite down, and everything’s yanked tight to the ring above; shift once and the pain answers. He pins clothespins down both breasts in neat rows, lights the red candles, and lets the wax fall in fat drops onto her belly. The Hitachi slams on, rips orgasm after orgasm out of her while she’s locked in that mess of rope and wax. Next she’s strung up in a flying scorpion, spine bent back, arms and legs spread, body one long arch of strain. He flogs her pussy until it’s swollen, clips weighted clamps on her nipples, then works the vibe until she comes hard, sweat rolling off her skin. Last position: she’s bent up on the beam, two clamps sealed over her cunt, strings stretched wide so any twitch tugs and hurts. The crop snaps her chest, belly, thighs until everything’s blazing red. Then he drives a dick on a stick into her slick pussy and fucks her until she’s glassy-eyed, shaking, lost in that sharp, dripping bliss.