Innocence Lost: Kendra Spade

Kendra's the kind of girl who looks too sweet to touch. She grins when she should flinch. The Pope wants to see how far that smile holds up. So he straps her down. Hard. First scene: a strappado on her knees, steel traps pinning her neck and ankles. She's caught in a half-squat, arms yanked high behind her, no slack anywhere. Every muscle's already screaming. The flogger starts and the cane follows. Her shoulders tremble, her thighs shake, but she stays upright until the first orgasm rips through her and the exhaustion finally wins. Her legs buckle. Still she cums again. Next, wooden boxes swallow her head and hands. She can't see what comes next; she just feels it. The Pope slides a bed of spikes under her bare feet and watches her dance. Every shift is agony. Every thrust he gives her makes the spikes dig deeper. He works every inch with canes, paddles, whatever's in reach, until she shakes inside the boxes. Last, she's flat on her back, legs spread wide with pipe and straps. The cane lands on her soles, her thighs, then her pussy in sharp, patient strokes. She smiles through the tears each time the wood kisses her wet cunt. A thick dildo forces past her lips, then drives into her soaked hole. The cane keeps time on her clit. When the pain and the fucking finally sync, her body explodes—squirting hard enough to soak the table, the floor, everything around her. The Pope keeps caning while she drenches the scene, wringing every last spasm from her.