Anal Foreclosure

Lorelei thinks she has Tommy pinned down. Sweet talk, fake papers, and that slow walk that says she owns him now. She leans over his table like she already moved in. Tommy lets her finish. Then he moves. No warning. He grabs her wrists, spins her, and the cuffs snap tight before she can gasp. Her blouse rips at the collar. He shoves her face into the couch cushions, yanks her skirt up, and spreads her open. She struggles, but the restraints bite harder with every twist. He works two fingers in her ass, then three, then his whole hand disappears to the wrist while she whimpers into the fabric. He fists her until her legs shake, then wipes his hand across her mouth and pushes in with his cock. No lube. No mercy. He drives deep, pulls out, drives deeper, each thrust punishing. Lorelei’s moans turn raw. He binds her ankles to her wrists, arches her back, and keeps fucking her ass like he’s collecting what she tried to steal. Sweat drips. Skin slaps. The only sound left is the couch creaking and her breath catching every time he bottoms out.