Handling the Anal Slave, Day Three

She’s curled in the cage when the door creaks open. He doesn’t speak—just unclips the lock and drags the bottom out. Gabriella’s wrists are already roped behind her back, knees spread and belted wide. John Strong steps in, pants down, cock heavy and half-hard. He shoves it between her lips without warning, fucking her throat until spit runs down her chin and drips onto the concrete. When he pulls out, strings of saliva stretch from her mouth to his shaft. He flips her, face-down on the cold floor, and lines up with her asshole. The first thrust is blunt, no lube, just spit and force. Her hole stretches around him, clenching, then yields. He pounds her ass in short, mean strokes, each one driving her forward until her forehead taps the bars. Every time she gasps he slaps her thigh and tells her to shut up and take it. The rhythm never slows—hard, deep, relentless. When he wants tighter, he unties her legs, flips her again, and slides into her cunt while her asshole still gapes. The switch is fast; he uses one hole, then the other, back and forth, keeping her guessing. Her moans turn ragged. He grabs her hair, makes her clean him with her tongue between changes, watching her eyes water as he pushes past her gag reflex again. By the time he finishes, her ass is red from spanking, her face streaked, her holes twitching and used. He wipes his cock across her lips, leaves her bound on the floor, and walks out. The cage stays open. She doesn’t move.