InfernalRestraints - Lorelei, model 912, Moonshine - Turkey Shoot 1080p

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He devises them as turkeys.To him these nymphs are nothing more than meat. He sees himself as a hunter, a boy who luvs new meat. And so it begins. They are naked, his girls. There are 3 of them. He has them in his hunting cabin. Their arms are roped behind their backs, their arms taped. They are ball-gagged with tubing confined in place with rope ties. Several soles of chain run from neck to neck, so that they are tethered to one another. He sits. He tells them about a turkey shoot. As he talks, he assembles his gun. Their lil sobs and whinges escalate. Who could have known? One min you are just ambling your mutt or quaffing coffee in your home. And the next thing you know, you are naked. And he has a gun. And there is indeed nothing else to do, is there? When he tells you to run. You run like hell. He hauls them outside and unchains them and embarks spewing out pellets, panicking them up good. After all, he wants to be challenged. He’s looking for sport, just a lil fun. They run thru the woods all in a flurry, screaming, squawking. Open season on girl. The towheaded is the first-ever to drop. He takes the others down too, the brown-haired and the black-haired girl. The marks of paintball run in rivulets down their soft flesh in crimson trails. It is tranquil in the woods. Their figures lie still, white, silent. They are side by side in the back of his truck, all on their stomachs, all in hogties, all gagged. They rock back and forth on roped breasts, juggling with the bounce of the truck. They make a flurry of appalled chirps. He stops the truck and opens the back gate. To each pair of ankles, he fastens a rope. Then he moves the truck forth so that they are dragged out of the back by the ankles. He raises each of them up, their figures hanging upside down in the middle of the woods. He slaps asses. He plays with their bumpers and nipples, tight from the cold. His rough frigs twist and knead, doing with them whatever he wants. Evening comes. A fire burns beside a pond. All 3 nymphs are standing, roped rigidly together at the neck, hobbled this way, moaning, whining in the cold. They shuffle close to the fire. But shortly it is too hot. They jostle back and forth, orb to breast, their flesh luminous in the dark. He arrives with a iron grill that he sets on 2 posts. It is in the shape of a body. He tells them they have to decide who is going to be cooked tonight. It is for them to decide. They moan. They cry, moving backward, clustered together, the human cook basket waiting. The towheaded is chosen. She is locked into the rungs of the frame, her gams spread, arms locked behind her back, and a iron pub push into her cunt. It keeps her highly still, so that the fire can do its work. She sighs rock hard as the heat grows, baking, her pecs heaving. The other 2 nymphs are given the task of making sure she’s roasted super-cute and even. Her flesh heads red. Satiate hurry, she says, please, Satiate hurry. And so they turn her so she can cook the other side and plead to be turned again. An apple is shoveled into the blond’s mouth. She is quieter now. As tho she is providing up, letting go. As tho she can leave behind her body. She is basted and barbecued, her chubby bumpers smeared with sauce, dribbling down into the fire. Testicle tonic dribbles from her knees. The flush of her assets may remind him of the pinkish internal glisten of pussy. When the lips are stretched and wet, just before the plunge, and now the scent can from time to time be smoky.