Fresh Meat: Alyssa Branch

Alyssa Branch is in deep trouble the second the cuffs snap shut. Mr. Pete towers over her, already hard. No warm-up, no sweet talk. Just the cold bite of metal around her wrists and the promise of what’s coming next. She’s bent forward, ass high, and he slams into her in one brutal stroke. The camera stays tight on her face as her mouth falls open—no sound at first, then a choked gasp. He keeps driving, deep and mean. When he pulls out she’s trembling, but he doesn’t give her a break. He shoves his cock straight into her mouth, down her throat, both hands gripping the back of her head. Blonde hair spills over his knuckles. Spit runs down her chin. She takes it, eyes wet, throat working. He spins her around, pushes her face-first against the wall. One hand spreads her ass; the other guides the head of his cock to her tight hole. No easing in. He buries himself to the root. Alyssa cries out, body jolting with every thrust. The cuffs rattle. He pins her wrists higher, fucks harder, the slap of skin echoing off concrete. Sweat glistens. Bruises bloom. Every time she thinks she can’t take more, he gives her more. And when he finally pulls free, she’s shaking, used, wrecked—and still hungry for the next round.