Khadija

Khadija drops onto the black table like meat on a butcher’s block. Her tits already hang heavy, nipples stiff and dark. They strap her down—wrists, ankles, waist—then the first guy steps in and starts working her breasts like he means it. Hard squeezes, sharp pinches, fingers twisting until the flesh bruises. She bites her lip but doesn’t ask for less. A second set of hands spreads her cheeks. Lube hits cold, then two fingers push straight into her ass, knuckles deep on the first thrust. She jerks, but the straps hold. The fingers keep working, stretching her open while the other hands keep mauling her chest. Every pinch sends a jolt straight down to where she’s being opened. The Hitachi comes on with a low buzz. They wedge it against her clit, tape it in place so it stays. She starts to shake almost right away. Her hips try to buck, but there’s nowhere to go. The Hitachi stays glued there while the fingers in her ass become three, then four, opening her wider. When they finally pull the fingers out, the fucksaw slides in. Thick black dildo, no mercy. It rams home on the first stroke, then settles into a brutal rhythm—short, hard, relentless. Her ass takes every inch while the Hitachi keeps grinding her clit raw. The hands on her tits don’t stop either; they slap now, open palms cracking across the swollen flesh. She comes hard, body locking up, but nothing pauses. The saw keeps pounding, the vibrator stays locked on, and the hands keep working her chest until the skin is red and streaked. Every time she tries to catch her breath another slap lands, another thrust drives deeper. They keep her right there—tits burning, ass full, clit screaming—until she’s shaking so hard the straps creak.