Fresh Meat: Felony

Peter finds the stray in the armory, catches her sniffing the leather and rips her out before she can think. He marches her upstairs naked, wrists wired behind her, tits bouncing heavy with every step. Once inside the loft he loops thick rope around her shoulders, cinches her elbows close, and knots the line high so she has to stand on tiptoe or feel her own weight pull. She tries to mouth off, so he stuffs a fat red ball between her teeth and pulls the straps tight. The first crop lands across both nipples before the buckle is even done, sharp enough to make her rise on her toes and yelp through the gag. He walks the leather up and down the heavy swell of her breasts until the skin blooms pink, then swings lower, striking the tops of her thighs and the soft, shaved lips beneath. Every time she twists, rope bites deeper. Sweat beads between her tits. He grabs a handful, twists, and plants the crop right on the clamped nipple again, again, again, until her thighs shake. When he finally bends her forward over the table and starts working her ass open, the camera holds on the way her bound tits press flat against the wood, nipples mashed into the grain, drool running from the corner of her mouth.