Agnes Weaver

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The damsel friends giggled to each other, flattered, as they accepted the from the tall, wide and stellar stranger. He smirked but seemed peculiarly silent… preoccupied. They can remember the very first-ever guzzle of wine, but not the second. The pub became a blur; the unknown suitor became a brooding brute… Sandra and Lauren have been disrobed down to their stockings and white, vintage, utter assets girdles; brown-haired curls and silver sways of hair streaming over naked shoulders as the firmly roped twosome are shoveled into glance in the box they’re limited captive in. They can't say a thing, thanks to the fabric wrap gag sealing their throats shut. Their hulking harasser retrieves Sandra, relieving her cords for a mere moment of ease before even further confinements befall her. He places the superb shape of the huge-titted wide on a makeshift mattress and hobbles her with a hogtie. Next he comebacks for lengthy legged Lauren, similarly cinching her ankles to her wrists atop the torn foam floor covering, showing her sheer stockings soles, sloppy from the concrete. Their restrict restrain bondage unforgiving, both roped and ball-gagged gfs are left to struggle in their supah strict cord restraints…