Masochistic Pain Slut in Bondage, Tormented, and Used for Her Holes

Second day, Abella’s body still aches from yesterday’s machines. Today she stands naked in front of The Pope, arms drawn tight behind her back, chest thrust forward. He lashes thick rope around her tits until they bulge dark, then anchors her wrists high so her shoulders burn. A fat ball gag is bucked between her teeth and buckled hard; spit already glistens on her chin. She tries to breathe around the gag while he lashes her thighs open, forcing her onto her knees. A spreader bar clicks between her ankles. The Pope loops another rope from the bar to the ceiling, folding her almost double, ass up, cunt and asshole exposed and helpless. The first cane strike lands across both cheeks. She jolts, but the ropes hold her still for the second, the third, the sixth. Welts rise fast and hot. He pauses only to slide two fingers through her soaked slit, laugh at how wet she is, then push those same fingers into her ass without warning. Abella grunts around the gag, eyes wide, drool swinging from her lower lip. When the cane is tossed aside he frees his cock—thick, already hard—and drives straight into her cunt. The sudden stretch rips a choked sound from her throat. He fucks her hard, each thrust punching the breath from her lungs, ropes creaking, her knees sliding on the concrete. Every few strokes he pulls out, lines up with her asshole, and sinks in until his balls slap her cunt. She shakes, tears mixing with spit, but pushes back for more. He switches holes at will, using whichever is slicker, tighter, louder. Each time she comes he laughs, slaps her raw ass, and keeps going until he’s ready to unload. He yanks free at the last second, strokes twice, and paints thick ropes across her upturned cheeks and the raw stripes the cane left behind.