Who Banged Jessica Rabbit?

Bella Rossi slinks into that red dress like it was poured on her. She is Jessica Rabbit tonight—lips scarlet, curves lethal. She plays patty-cake once too often, gets caught with too many cartoon hands on her, and Judge Doom shows up to collect. He doesn’t cuff her, he straps her. Leather cuffs, spreader bar, bent over his desk so the Weasels can circle like hungry dogs. Doom feeds her his thick black cock first, stretching her throat until tears cut tracks through her makeup. When she’s gasping, he moves behind her, grips her hips, and sinks every inch into her ass in one slow, merciless thrust. She howls, then begs for more. The Weasels take turns stuffing her dripping cunt while Doom keeps her asshole stuffed full, using her like a rag doll caught between them. Sweat, spit, and lube run down her thighs. Every slap of skin echoes off the chamber walls. She comes hard, muscles clenching, voice hoarse from screaming around cock. Doom doesn’t stop until he’s painted her insides white, pulling out so the rest can finish across her trembling back. Jessica Rabbit stays bound, cum leaking, satisfied smirk on her ruined face.