Bella Breaks in a New Toy at the Divine Bitches Milking Facility!

Bella Rossi has him. Trapped in the Milking Facility, bound, useless, already leaking. She circles the new toy like she owns every nerve under his skin. The strap-on goes in dry. He cries out, she laughs, and the pounding starts—hard, steady, designed to break something loose. She flips him, drops him over her knee, hand cracking down until his ass blooms red and his voice cracks. Then she’s on his face, thick thighs locked, smothering every gasp, every plea. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can only taste her. When she finally lets him up he’s dizzy, empty, desperate. The pump comes out next. Cold metal cups his cock, sucks and strokes at the same time, clinical and cruel. Bella watches the numbers climb, watches the vial fill with whatever pitiful mess his balls manage to give. She labels it, sets it aside. Sam’s still twitching when she walks away. Three hours, she tells him. Then we do it all again.