Total Submission of India Summer

India Summer kneels, wrists cuffed behind her back, while Ramon towers over her. Her mouth opens, takes him deep, throat working as spit trails down her chin. He grips her hair, sets the rhythm, pushes harder each time until she gags and swallows. She doesn’t flinch; her eyes stay locked on his. He yanks her up, bends her over the bench. One cuff snaps around her ankle, spreading her open. His hand lands hard across her ass, leaving a red print that blooms fast. She moans low, already slick. Ramon works lube over his cock, lines up, then drives straight into her ass. India cries out, breath catching, the stretch raw. He holds her down, hips snapping in hard strokes, no pause, no mercy. Every thrust pushes her forward against the wood. Sweat rolls down her back. She pushes back into him, chasing the burn, meeting him thrust for thrust until the cuffs rattle and her voice cracks into a broken, desperate sound.