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Iona Mercy is pent up in some strenuous iron restrain bondage and she can't get out. O.T. has her in a iron collar attached to 2 pillars, one in front of and one behind her. As if that isn't enough, he farther locks her in place by handcuffing her wrists to the front pole and her ankles to the back pillar. Then, when her whining gets too annoying, he switches her bit gag to a cloth and tape gag and pulls a plastic bag over her head so she can't breathe. This stance is especially joy because it gives the impression that Iona is divided hetero down the center of her body. By the time O.T. is done with her, her assets will look like a Rorschach painting, with wounds instead of ink. The marks on Iona's bootie from the strenuous lashing she is getting are mirrored on the left and right side of her body. A true work of art. When O.T. is done playing arts and crafts he moves her so she is arched backward, restricted in place now by a genitals chain and fetters on her wrists. Then he goes to work on her hips with the cane, leaving crimson marks all over Iona's body. She's been through a plenty of and O.T. decides that she has earned some joy for herself. He puts a iron poon hook inwards of her and places the strenuous celebrator right on her clit and she is screaming for him in no time. Her assets bucks and jiggles as she embarks dumping all over the place. O.T. may have cut her in half but her entire assets is downright weakened and used up.