Stress is a Killer

Kait Snow's back, all tits and curves and that pretty mouth. We put her in the wall stocks, neck and wrists locked, ankles pinned, back forced into a hard arch that puts every soft inch on display. The strain hits fast. Ring gag in, eyes already wet. We run the cane and the flogger over her skin, make her guess which is coming next. She guesses wrong and the tears start. We slide the dick in, press the vibe tight, oil those big tits until they shine. One orgasm rips through her and the whole frame shakes. Then the clothespins bite her nipples, the flogger slaps her cunt, and we tell her to come again. She does, loud and messy, spit running down her chin, sweat on her chest, cum streaked across her skin. She hangs there wrecked, dripping, and still arching exactly the way we left her.