Sandra Romain and Taylor Jolie

Taylor Jolie walks in and the door clicks behind her. Sandra doesn’t waste time. She knots rope around Taylor’s wrists, yanks the line tight, forces the blonde onto her knees. A fat red ball gag is jammed between open lips and buckled hard, spit already spilling down her chin. Taylor balances on aching knees while Sandra clips her nipples, her labia, the tender skin under each breast. Silver clamps bite, weights tug, and every swing makes Taylor moan around the gag. Sandra adds more. Another clamp. Another ounce. Another thin scream caught behind rubber. The rope creaks. Taylor’s thighs tremble. Sandra circles, adding one last clamp just above her clit, then gives the chain a sharp tug. Taylor nearly tips. Sweat slides down her spine, and Sandra’s palm slaps it away. Each breath is short, sharp, wet. The blonde rocks on bound knees, clamps clinking, drool soaking her chest, while Sandra watches her shake.