Jessi Palmer's Pigtail Hogtie

Jessi's tiny frame hangs in a brutal hogtie—arms wrenched behind her back, pigtails yanked upward by a pulley, ankles and knees locked open by a spreader bar. Her creamy skin tightens as rubber bands snap across her bare soles. A vibrator presses in right after. She flinches, tries to squirm free, but Matt holds it firm until the fight drains from her face and her mouth drops open in shaky, helpless gasps. He rips the toy away, leans close, asks her height. Four-ten, she whispers. My dick's almost bigger than you, he tells her, then stuffs his cock past her lips and makes her say it: tiny cock-sucking whore. She stares, dazed, as he talks about how her boyfriend never bothered because making her come was too much work. The pulley tightens. She rises an inch, then another, neck cranked, knees drawn back until she can barely breathe. Matt growls he’ll force the orgasm out of her anyway. Her body finally cracks open—violent, shaking, unstoppable—before he hoists her even higher and leaves her dangling there, gasping.