Rick Hunt and Lady Lydia McLane

Lydia McLane towers over Rick Hunt in black latex that clings to every curve. The rope bites deep into his skin while she laughs and cracks her whip across his shoulders. Rick twists and strains, trying to break loose, but the cords hold and she keeps striking. The sound of leather against flesh fills the room, sharp and deliberate. She presses in close, forces his cock straight, and starts working thick steel rods down his slit, one slow inch after another. Each thrust inside his piss-hole makes his whole body jerk. Through it all she makes him repeat the words she wants: “I like how my little pussy is getting fucked.” He says it while she reams him deeper. When the rods come out she strings him up, ankles and wrists high, ass exposed. The thick head of her strap-on pushes past his rim and sinks home. She fucks him with steady, punishing strokes, gloved fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock. Her fist slides up and down the aching length, keeping him right on the edge. Maybe she’ll let him come. Maybe she won’t.