Sandra Romain, mini and James

Sandra keeps him locked tight in that tiny cage, naked and low to the ground while she circles and watches. The metal bars rattle every time he shifts. She clicks her tongue, makes him crawl in tighter circles until his knees burn. When she finally drags him out the air feels sharp on his skin. He knows what's next. She shoves him face-down over the low bench and spreads him open. One hand grips his hip hard enough to leave marks. The strap-on slides in fast, no warm-up, just raw stretch and pressure until his breath breaks. Every thrust knocks the breath out of him. She rides that rhythm until sweat runs down her back, then yanks him around and feeds him the same cock. He gags once, twice, spit sliding down his chin, but she holds him there, eyes locked, until he takes it deeper. When she’s ready she pushes him aside, leans back, and works her own fingers between her legs. Fast, tight circles. Her thighs shake. The room fills with the wet sound of her finishing what she started. He stays on his knees, watching, still hard, still caged, still waiting.