Mounted on Metal: Karina Ballerina (Angel)

Karina's on the rig, legs split wide, arms locked down to the cold steel. They bring out the drilldo. It's no joke—a thick, veined cock bolted straight onto a power drill. First pass, slow, just enough revs to make the thing twist inside her. The rotation hits angles no human hips ever could. She grunts, then curses when the speed climbs. Each turn screws deeper, stretching her ass while the lube starts to drip. Sweat beads at her temples; her bush is matted, dark curls clinging to wet skin. She tries to flinch away, but the frame has her pinned. The drill whines, picks up pitch, and the dildo churns, relentless. Karina's breath breaks into ragged moans. The machine doesn't care. It just keeps drilling until her whole body shakes against the metal and every nerve feels like it's on fire.