Ball and Chain

Phoenix Marie walks back in. Her big tits already out. Derrick’s waiting. He slips the blindfold over her eyes and locks the first cuff around her wrist. The chain rattles. She pulls once, testing it. He yanks her forward and spins her, pressing her bare chest to the cold metal frame. The ankle cuffs come next, spreading her stance wide. She hears the buckle and feels the leather bite her skin. He runs a hand between her legs, finds her wet, and laughs once under his breath. A sharp smack lands across her ass. The chain pulls tight when she jerks. Then he grabs a fistful of that blonde hair and tilts her head back. His fingers slide lower, slick, pushing in. Her hips buck. The blindfold keeps every next move a surprise. He leans in close, breath hot on her ear, and tells her not to move. She doesn’t. The first thrust comes hard, sudden. She gasps, the chain singing against the frame. Every stroke after that is deeper, rougher. She takes it, body straining, tits bouncing, legs shaking. He keeps one hand on the small of her back and the other wrapped around the chain, using it like a handle. The rhythm turns savage. Sweat runs down her spine. She bites her lip to keep from moaning too loud. He doesn’t let up. The blindfold stays on. The cuffs stay tight. And Phoenix keeps taking every inch like she came back for exactly this.