Sharon Wild

Sharon walked in like she knew the drill. Maybe she did. Blonde hair catching the lights, eyes giving nothing away until the first machine pressed against her. She took the hitachi first. The kind of hitachi that doesn't ask permission. It locked on and she came hard, the kind of hard that makes your thighs shake and your breath catch in your throat. She stayed bent for the fucksaw. That thing doesn't care about your limits. It just keeps going. Sharon took every inch, her ass open and ready, the slow mechanical thrust turning into something mean. The operator cranked it. She took more. Sweat ran down her spine and she pushed back anyway. Fingers worked between her legs when the machines gave her a second to breathe. Two inside, maybe three, stretching her while the blonde hair stuck to her face. She came again, louder this time, the sound ripping out of her like she wasn't planning on it. By the end she was wrecked in the best way. Machines don't leave bruises you can see, but they leave something. Sharon walked out knowing she wouldn't be hungry for cock anytime soon. Not after what those things did to her.