Don't Fight It

Tawni Ryden's body looks carved out of concrete. Steel abs. Legs like pistons. An ass that could stop traffic. None of it saves her once the ropes bite down. She's locked tight, spread and gagged, drool already slipping past the ball between her teeth. The blonde fights anyway. She always does. She clenches every muscle, tries to hold back, tries to starve the heat rising in her belly. It never works. One hit of the vibe and she detonates—hips bucking, spine bowing, a choked scream ripping through the gag. The orgasm tears through her like it's got something to prove. She shakes so hard you wonder if she'll black out. Tawni swears she'll never kneel for anyone, but right now she's jerking against the straps and coming again, helpless to stop it.