Bobbi Starr Tests Casey Calvert

Casey Calvert needs the kind of attention I give. She hangs from her wrists, electrodes taped across every inch of skin, twitching like a live wire when I switch them on. I crank the tension higher, pull her taut until that skinny frame has nowhere to hide. Then the toys come out—clear cane in one hand, zappers in the other. I lay sharp lines across her small tits, each snap jerking fresh spasms through her muscles. She’s wired to cum from the sting alone, no toys required. The Hitachi’s just another weapon I jam against her slick, overworked cunt and grind until she’s shaking again.