Belt Bondage for BDSM and Rough Sex

Danarama straps a plain belt around her wrists and yanks it tight. The leather creaks. She pulls harder, and her shoulders roll back, chest up, the kind of stretch that turns a spine into an invitation. Another belt slides behind her knees, cinching thighs to shins, folding her open. He leaves her like that, knees spread, cunt aimed at the ceiling, arms trapped high above her head. He slides two thick fingers straight in. The slick sound is obscene. A slow thrust, then three, then the wet heat gives way. He replaces his hand with his cock, and the next thrust drives the air out of her lungs. The belts don’t budge. She can’t close her legs, can’t push him off, can’t do anything except take it. He rocks in deep, pulls out slow, drives back in until her hips lift off the mattress with every slam. When he leans over her and palms her throat, her moan vibrates against his hand and she comes so hard the restraints creak.