From the Shadows

Kira hangs from the ceiling, neck locked in a steel trap that bites when she swallows. The big room swallows light. She hears him before she sees him. Boots scrape concrete. He steps out of the dark, tall, black, and already hard, cock thick enough to stretch her until she screams. Leather cuffs snap around her wrists and ankles. Chains clank and pull. Her body lifts, spread-eagle, nothing left to hold her weight but the trap and the straps biting into her skin. He grabs a fistful of her long black hair, yanks her head back, and forces two thick fingers into her mouth. "Open," he growls. She does. He steps behind her, slaps her ass once, twice, then drives that cock straight into her tight hole. No warm-up. No mercy. Each thrust shoves her forward against the trap. Pain shoots down her spine, but her cunt drips anyway. He doesn’t care. She’s meat. He uses her like meat. Clamps bite down on her nipples, weights swing with every slam. A crop whistles and cracks across her bare soles. She jerks, choking on a cry. He laughs, low and mean, and fucks her harder, balls slapping, chain links singing, her helpless body swinging like a broken toy while he empties every filthy inch of himself into her stretched ass.