Scorned No More

Octavia Red sits bound and quiet, a red ball-gag stretching her lips wide. The ropes cut into her breasts, making them swell over the tight knots. The Pope begins at her feet, dragging the crop across soft arches in lazy rhythm. Soon the baton thuds against her ass, the cat tails slice across her tits, the flogger lands heavier each time. She breathes hard through the gag, jaw tight, eyes burning. When the wand hits her clit she shakes and comes so loud the metal in the room seems to ring. Next she hangs half-suspended, thighs spread, arms high. The crop stings her pussy and leaves raised welts down her legs, each strike followed by the steady buzz between her folds. She cries out, the sound wet around the rubber ball. He clips her inner thighs, then snaps every pin away with the whip until her skin burns pink. A quick rub over her soaked cunt draws another orgasm, and he slides a thick dildo inside her, thrusting steady until her thighs quiver and her head drops back. The final tie leaves her on her belly, arms yanked high behind her. He spanks until her ass glows, flogs until her shoulders jump, then tugs hard on her nipples before dropping a blindfold over her eyes. The sudden dark makes every touch sharper. The prod lands on her thigh, sharp and sudden; she jerks in the ropes. Right after, the wand presses hard and the dildo sinks deep. His hand clamps around her throat, holding her still as the toy and the vibrator tear one climax after another from her body. Sweat beads on her skin, muscles twitching, mouth slack around the gag, every nerve lit up and raw.