Morgan Stuck in a Torment Device

Morgan hangs in the medieval rack, wrists locked overhead, legs splayed, every curve on display. The metal bites at her skin. Nothing cute about it now. Ridge steps in close, fists her hair, and shoves his cock down her throat without warning. She gags, spit running, but he holds her there, hips driving forward until her nose meets his stomach. He fucks her face like he owns it, choking, thrusting, pulling back only to slap her spit-slick lips and do it again. When her breasts swing free, he slaps them hard, watching the flesh redden, then grabs and twists until she whimpers around his shaft. Tears streak her cheeks, yet her tongue keeps working, desperate. He leans in, grinds deeper, punishing. She takes it. Every brutal inch.