Carly and Rebecca Lord

Rebecca Lord has Carly bent over the counter. A ball gag stretches her jaw wide. The blindfold cuts everything out except the sound of Rebecca’s voice and the snap of leather cuffs locking around her wrists. Rope bites into her skin and pins her hips to the edge of the marble. Every time Carly squirms, Rebecca slaps a bare cheek, hard enough to leave heat blooming. She spits on Carly’s tight hole, works the slickness in with two fingers, then presses the slick head of a strap-on against the ring. Carly’s muffled moan cracks when the thick length pushes inside, opening her slow and mean. Rebecca keeps the pace brutal, hips slapping flesh, one hand gripping the rope harness for leverage. Each thrust knocks Carly’s stomach against the cold countertop, the kitchen echoing with the wet slap of skin and the creak of tightening knots. The ball gag keeps her drooling. The blindfold keeps her guessing. Every time Carly thinks she’s caught her breath, Rebecca shoves deeper, reminding her the only job left is to take it.