Sheena

Sheena's D-cup body stretches tight against the ropes. A thick black ball gag splits her lips, already shiny with spit. The first strike lands across her ass. Leather bites. She jerks hard, tits swaying. Sweat shines on her pale skin. Another blow follows. Then another. Sheena's wrists strain in the cuffs bolted to the wall. Every smack echoes off concrete. Her muffled cries get wetter with each hit. Blonde hair sticks to her face. The welts bloom red. Sheena's thighs tremble. The room smells like leather and her. No mercy. Just the steady crack of the strap and the sound of her breaking.