Insex - Trailings (828, 130, Erika, 49)

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Trailings is a compilation of slices, short views as tho' thru a window. The concentrate is bondage. The medium is flesh. The very first is roped in a hogtie, still dressed in jeans, sneakers and taut top. The ankles keep stress on a cord that is wound about her neck. She struggles, getting taller pallid as time passes. A pulley is lowered. The cord that links her ankles to her neck is raised, creating a curved bow to her bod and a swoon blue about her eyes and mouth. She is put up on her knees. The straps pull her neck backward, jutting out her chest. Her top is hiked and boulder-holder pulled down. Her puffies are twitched and tweaked. Her jeans, unzipped, push down to her knees. Blue satin underwear. He slaps her face. She coughs repeatedly, pallid and white. She is bare and arched over, wobbling in heels, wrists roped to knees. A cord about her waist and hooked to the pulley keeps her on her feet. Her neck and hair are roped to the pulley, her pallid facehole bared. A goods cord pulled taut hoists her ass. He strokes her breasts and fondles her pussy, bunched into a jummy mass. The slapping starts. Her thin, youthfull bod squirms. Reddened lump of ass. Lounging on her back, her palms folded above her head backward and roped to a cord at her upper back. Ankles roped to upper thighs. She squirms about. Her white skin, white thighs. A four-by-four post. She is naked. Her wrists roped high above her head, a cage underneath each foot. These are taken away so that she drapes by her wrists. But she is strong, a gorgeously beefy body. She wraps her hips about the post, worming upward. He beats her rump with a cane. Each nip is roped off and spread towards the floor. A plug is poked into her mouth. A cord fixes her neck to the post. Folding her gams back and upward, they are roped to the post. No fight anymore, just hanging. She is in denim and a top, one calf roped to her thigh. Her palms roped behind her back, her jaws wedged and taped. She writhes, her breasts extreme in size and roundness, shoved outer as tho' proffered. She is made to stand on her unbound sole and hooked to the pulley. She hops about. Her breasts are hiked out, those flour-white shapes. They make you want to chew, to gnaw. She is bare and standing, her ankles and toes roped tightly. The cord about her waist makes her shapely, the goods cord taut and cutting. Her palms are roped out of the way. What else could be done with those breasts but to wring them inbetween ample lumps of dowel. This only makes them better, rounder. One thinks of them conformed for dinner, the centerpiece of a platter. She is raised onto her tiptoes. She gets taller eager and upset. Her breasts, strangely, emerge to get bigger larger, like they only want to please, to hop into your mouth. Iron stocks hold her hips wide. Her wrists are locked into the far finishes of the stocks. Her neck is shackled and locked on. She is in garter belt, stockings, and heels. Yet her bod seems more technology than female. The thin, rippled slivers of her cooter set off the sparkle of her piercing. A u-bolt is locked into her mouth. The cattle prod encourages her to worm about this way and that until resting her cunny on the toe of his boot. She is pulled onto her back, spread and available, a thick, silky cunt. A humungous cork is rammed and opened. Her cunny becomes a widened jaws with iron lips. Small clips sting into pearly flesh, her inward hips and pussy. He slaps the bottoms of her soles with a cane. She looks to have a spear crevice to the cunt. The clips are eliminated slowly, aggressively as he frigs her clit. She is on her knees, her lower gams strapped to four-by-fours. Arms are behind in strappado. A mighty neck corset is tightened about her neck. A fake penis heads in, strapped in place, giving a handle for relief of use. Her breasts are flogged. She sobs and screams. Clothespins clamp her nipples. Weights added one by one create a mighty sag. She drowns downward.