Kayla Paige and Tory Lane

Kayla Paige walks into the office knowing she’s broke and behind on the money she owes Tory Lane. Tory doesn’t waste time on excuses. She slaps a strip of silver duct tape across Kayla’s mouth, winds more around her wrists and ankles, then folds the struggling girl into a suitcase and snaps it shut. The ride is rough. Every bump knocks Kayla’s bare tits against the hard lining while drool pools behind the tape. At the warehouse Tory pops the latches, drags the case out, and dumps Kayla onto the concrete. Rope replaces the tape. Tory lashes Kayla’s arms behind her back, ties her tits tight so the nipples stand out dark and swollen, and spreads her legs wide. A fat black ball gag replaces the tape, forcing Kayla’s jaws open. The leather straps bite at the corners of her mouth. Tory circles once, then yanks Kayla’s hips up and slams into her ass. Kayla’s muffled screams echo off the metal walls while Tory pounds deeper, every thrust shoving the bound girl forward on her knees. Sweat, spit, and lube streak the floor. Tory never slows, gripping Kayla’s hair, holding her open, driving the point home until Kayla’s body shakes and her eyes roll back, cash debt paid in full and written across every red mark on her skin.