Boxed up and carted around... Tara Lynn Fox

Tara Lynn Foxx lies bare-ass naked in a crate. Tape wraps her wrists behind her. A ball gag fills her mouth and stretches her cheeks. She can’t close her legs, so every inch of that big, round ass shows. The crate moves, wheels squeak, and strangers grab her like cargo. Hands clamp a suction cup over her clit and crank the pump. Blood swells and throbs. She shakes the crate, trying to twist away, but the vacuum stays locked. The same hands slick her tight hole and push in, slow, deep, relentless. Every thrust makes the crate rock. When the canes come out, the torment drops lower. The first strike cracks across her sole. She howls around the gag. A second stripe paints the arch. Tears run, spit drips, and her toes curl uselessly. The men keep caning, measuring each scream like a score. Bound, boxed, and dragged wherever they want, Tara can do nothing but take it.