Annika

Annika hits the camera like a live wire, all edges and heat, and Mark Davis wastes no time putting her in her place. Rope bites her wrists, pulls her shoulders back, keeps her open for whatever he wants. She doesn’t flinch. She pulls against it, breath catching, hips already grinding into nothing. His cock is thick, the kind that stretches slow and hurts sweet, and she takes it—mouth first, lips stretched, spit running down her chin. He fucks her throat till her eyes water, then flips her, face down, ass up, wrists still bound behind her back. When he pushes into her ass the stretch hits fast and she moans like she’s been waiting for it. He keeps her pinned, using her weight and the rope to hold her still while he works deeper, thrust by thrust, until she’s shaking and babbling and begging for more. Every slap of skin says the same thing: she came here to be used, and he’s happy to oblige.