IR - May 27, 2016 - Zoey Laine

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine most likely shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills unusual fellows give her. She's too steaming to not know better. Studs have been paying attention to her since she embarked growing those perky little jugs of hers. Her sexy legs and taut ass didn't go unnoticed in those yoga pants, either. Seconds after she downs what she thinks is ibuprofen she is on the floor. By the time she has come to O.T. has already inspected every inch of her splendid body. If he was just tearing up her she would most likely hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his dick wet, no matter how steaming of a lump of ass he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head cage he'd like her to attempt out for him. Barbed string and cold iron sheath her, she can see them right in front of her eyes. She knows that the rusted spikes won't just jump out and get her, but she can't help but be horrified with them so close to her pretty face. She doesn't dare flail too much as her captor flogs her ass and uses a faux-cock to pound her pussy. She's too concerned about what this bondage helmet will do to her if she unbalances it. Zoey should be more concerned about what O.T. is going to do to her. He isn't some cold lump of steel, content to just hold her in place and not have any fun. He wants to hear her groan and when the flogger doesn't do the trick well enough he has pile other ways to get her yelling.