House Celebration: Welcome Back Mogul p. 1

The Upper Floor throws its Halloween bash to toast The Pope’s reign and haul James Mogul back into the fold. They parade o in front of him, tag her as his personal fucktoy for the night. Tight clover clamps bite her nipples raw. She’s dragged through the crowd on that cruel leash, stuffed with clothespins, grilled with mind-fuck questions while the metal teeth chew deeper. piggy and pistol strut for Mogul and Acworth, throats already open, cunts offered like party favors. They gag on dick, knees spread, while Peter fires questions they answer around mouthfuls of cock. The joint is wall-to-wall bodies—money, sweat, lust. Goddess Soma wraps her girl in plastic until every breath is a fight, crops her, clamps her, forces squirt after squirt from the shuddering package. Torque ropes a fresh piece of meat and four men circle, using every hole like she’s a communal toy. The Pope cuts kaos down from the ceiling, upside-down, fluffy whistling across her skin while she chokes on Jack Hammer’s dick and takes it without a whimper. Single-tails crack, ropes groan, mouths stay busy, cunts stay filled. Every dark corner fucks, every body breaks, every scream lands like applause.