Penalty of Street Gals I

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Nothing says soiree time like watching a hot woman corded on the floor when you walk in. Wank Hammer watches Paisley Parker sitting there, packaged in rope, and doesn't even say “Hello” before pulling up a tabouret and getting down to business. It's nothing personal, the way he handles her. It's not that he doesn't like her. It's just that he loves her so much more when she is suffering. Something about the way she whimpers is such a turn on. Pull her hair, hear her squeak. Slap her ass, observe her jump. Grasp her tightly, feel her struggle. She is a jaw-dropping plaything to have fun with, and Jack's blessed to have her all to himself. Paisley pretends that she doesn't love it, but give her a bit of time with the vibrator and her true colors sparkle through. She's cumming without a care in the world in a matter of minutes. She wants to get off, and she knows that a bit of ache and penalty is the brilliant precursor to pleasure.