Nicole Love Ballgagged

Nicole Love lies there, jaw forced open around the ball, black hair spilling over her face, and all she can do is breathe through her nose. Black ropes keep her wrists locked behind her back. Her ankles are pulled apart, soles flexed, toes curling every time the crop lands. The guy’s in no hurry. He lines up the leather, strikes the arch of her foot, then the other, listening for the muffled sound she makes around the gag. When he’s satisfied, he nudges her knees wider, lines up, and drives in. The thrusts are hard and steady; each one rocks her, makes her breasts jolt, makes her breath catch on the ball. Sweat runs down her spine. Every smack of the crop lands just where he wants it, and she takes it, drooling, straining, but never turning away.