Kym Wilde and Dax Star

Dax has the face that gets you in trouble and the body to back it up. He starts moving for Kym, slow and cocky, pulling his shirt over his head like he thinks the grin will save him. She watches once, twice, then her mouth twists. Enough of that. She has him stripped, cuffed, and strung to the pole before his pants hit the floor. The flogger lands hard across his back, leaving streaks that burn pink. A row of clothespins marches down his chest; she rips them free in one vicious tug and his whole body jerks against the restraints. With his wrists lashed behind the pole, she slicks two fingers and works them into his ass until it opens for her. Then she pushes the thick head of the strap-on past the tight ring and drives in deep, hips snapping, no mercy. Every thrust punches a grunt out of him. She keeps him there, pinned and used, until she pulls out, drops into the chair, and plants her bare feet at his mouth. Tongue on her toes, eyes on her cunt, he licks while her fingers work fast between her legs, chasing her own finish while he stays bound and aching.