Anal Evidence: Dirty Cop Fucks & Torments Evidence Clerk Casey Calvert

Dirty cop Tommy Pistol's back in the hot seat, on the run, evidence still loose. He slips into the evidence room on a dead Saturday. Only one person working the desk: Casey Calvert. She knows the codes. He needs the codes. He slams her into the cinderblock, slaps the cuffs on her wrists, tells her withholding evidence means trouble—big trouble. Rope follows, tight and mean, chest to ankles, legs spread. Ball gag buckled in, drool already stringing down her chin. Pants ripped to her knees. Flogger stripes her ass bright red while she shakes her head, screaming through the gag that she doesn't know shit. Tommy calls bullshit. Pulls his cock out and drives it straight into her wet hole. She bucks, tries to twist away, but the ropes hold. He pulls out, strips her bare, re-ties her on her back with her tits up and nipples clamped tight. Slams his cock down her throat until her eyes tear. She gags out the same lie—she doesn’t have the code. He spins her face-down, spreads her cheeks, and shoves straight into her ass. No warm-up. Hard, fast, deep. Every thrust knocks another denial out of her until the only sounds left are skin slapping skin and the wet click of the hitachi pressed to her clit. She cums shaking, asshole pulsing around his dick. Tommy pulls free at the last second and paints both holes with thick stripes of cum.