Hollie Stevens and Sir C

Sir C shows up from the East Coast and puts the first knot on Hollie while the sun is still low. Hollie stands tall and tan, blonde hair messy from sleep, tits bare, cunt already slick because rope does that to her. Sir C works fast. She pulls Hollie’s arms behind her, cinches the elbows, runs the line across her chest twice, and knots it off between the shoulder blades. Hollie’s breathing changes right away. Another coil drops around her waist, then lower, splitting her lips as it travels up between them. Sir C gives the strand a sharp tug; Hollie’s knees dip, a string of clear juice stretches from her pussy to the rope and breaks. The tall girl is pushed face-down onto the mat. Sir C folds her legs, binds ankle to thigh on each side, then connects those bundles to the chest harness until Hollie’s spine bows and her shoulders lift off the floor. Every breath makes the crotch rope rub harder. Sir C grabs a red ball gag, works it past Hollie’s teeth, and straps it tight at the nape. Drool starts at once, running down Hollie’s chin onto the mat. She tests the knots, hips rocking in little involuntary thrusts, cunt lips shiny and parted around the rope. Sir C stands over her, checking tension, adjusting nothing, just watching the wet spot grow while Hollie strains and soaks the line that keeps her open.