The Pope vs Beretta James

Beretta's strapped to the sybian with no slack anywhere. Her body locked in place, nothing left to do but take it. A spiral zipper snakes over every tender inch, then peels off slow, one stinging kiss at a time. Next she's folded into a strappado, wrists yanked high behind her, toes straining in those ballet boots. Every welt, every red palm print, every crack of the single-tail pushes her to choose which pain cuts deepest. Last, she's spread on a narrow platform, ass barely balanced on the edge. Blindfold on. The flogger tears into her first, then the clamps bite down hard and stay.