KATY ROSE BALL GAGGED WHIPPED AND SLAPPED

Rope bites into Katy Rose's wrists. The ball gag swells behind her teeth, straps pinning the back of her head. Her breathing grows rough around it, chest rising in short pulls. The first lash lands clean across her tits, then another stripes her thighs. Her body jerks forward, skin flushing pink under each strike. She tries to step back, but the crop keeps finding flesh—back, ass, the soft inside of her legs—leaving sharp, stinging lines. When the lashes slow, her nipples stand tight, her skin hot. The wand appears. It presses against her slit and fires to life, a deep, humming buzz that shakes through her core. Her thighs flex. The gag swallows whatever sound tries to escape. She shudders hard, caught between the last burn of the crop and the relentless pulse working between her legs, hips twitching as the sensation builds and builds.