Claire's Day Off

Sara Jay walks onto the set already stripped and ready. Orlando wastes no time. He grabs those massive tits, shoves her arms behind her back, and straps a thick collar around her neck. The pulley yanks her down to her knees, tits bulging between her biceps like they’re about to split. She stays there, neck pulled high, body low, while he watches her struggle to breathe right. When he’s bored, he flips her onto all fours and cinches the rig tighter so her chest is smashed flat to the bench, ass up, nothing left to hide. Next he folds her like a pretzel. Cold steel pipes lock her legs wide open above her head, ankles lashed to her own hair. The position leaves her cunt and the undersides of her thighs completely exposed. Orlando picks up the cane and lays stripe after stripe across that tight, trembling skin. Every time she flinches the metal bites deeper. Once her thighs are glowing he grabs the fuck-saw, shoves the dildo in to the hilt, and runs it full throttle. Sara’s screams come out half-muffled by her own knees. Final position: glossy black latex stretched over every curve, arms crushed together behind her in a brutal binder. She’s mounted on the sybian, legs spread and bolted down, vibrator already throbbing against her clit. Orlando turns the dial. She cums hard—first one sharp, choking orgasm, then another that makes her thrash against the leather. He keeps feeding her pain and pleasure until her voice is raw and her body is shaking, milked dry, dripping down the machine.