Machinehead

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She is crouched in a corner, her back against the cold brick walls. A club sits low and cock-squeezing via her lap with leather straps holding her knees apart, keeping her in a squat. There is a dog collar around her neck and her wrists are affixed to the back of it. She explains how she likes to have fun in her individual life. cyd attempts to make her stance a bit more interesting by moving a intense propane heater right next to her. She writhes around a bit, attempting to get away from the heat. several minutes afterward she cyd pulls her t-shirt up over her head, binding it off above her palms like a nads of potatoes. She struggles inside the cloth, pressing her face against it so we can observe her ghostly profile and hear her labored breathing. Next we find her in the spanish stirrups with a spider gag holding her jaws open wide. One sole of the stirrups is shackled up above her to the ceiling and she twists her palms around as she lies on her back, as tho she thinks she might actually get free. cyd shovels a cork into her wet puss and advises her to loosen her muscles as he opens it broader and pokes around inside with a acute stick. He proceeds to wedge a phat backside cork deep into her asshole but rapidly changes it out for the biggest one he can find. She unleashes several yells and yells as the good-sized teddy of love glove vanishes inside her ass, but rapidly calms down. cyd congratulates her on taking the biggest thing he’s ever put in anyone’s caboose before rewarding her efforts with the hitachi. Her last stance keeps her on her knees with her palms behind her and her head bound back at a irresistable angle to an caboose hook. She looks directly up at her destiny - a fucking machine mounted to the wall right above her mouth. cyd orders her to flash him how well she fellates beef whistle and she anxiously obliges, choking and spewing drool in every direction via the room.