A Sadists Dream Come True

Lily LaBeau's back. Over a year since any machine touched her. Over a year since her body got tested like this. Now she's naked, blonde, and already shaking. She's bent forward, back arched, legs locked apart. Then she gets flipped, stretched, and spread wide. Every position turns the screws tighter. Every new agony makes her cum harder. First it's her nipples. Then the soles of her feet. Then her ass gets worked raw with open palms. By the time The Pope wraps one thick hand around her throat and shoves the other between her legs, she's dripping and begging. He chokes her out while she squirts all over his hand, hips jerking, eyes rolled back. She's bound, helpless, and still cumming. She can't stop. She doesn't want to. The Pope's cock is thick and already leaking by the time he steps in closer. Her mouth opens without being told. He uses her throat while she gasps between orgasms, spit running down her chin, body twitching in every restraint. Her pussy clenches around nothing until he finally shoves that big dick into her, slow and mean, taking his time. He fucks her like he owns her, every thrust punching another moan out of her throat, every inch buried deep while she cums again, soaking the bench under her. By the end, she's limp, wrecked, drooling, and smiling like the sick little pain-slut she is. A sadist's wet dream in the flesh.