Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine probably shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills strange Dudes give her. She's too super-fucking-hot to not know better. Dudes have been paying attention to her since she embarked growing those perky lil' globes of hers. Her spectacular gams and taut culo 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 examined every inch of her fantastic body. If he was just boning her she would probably hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his dick wet, no matter how super-fucking-hot of a chunk of culo he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head cage he'd like her to try out for him. Barbed strap and cold iron shell her, she can watch them right in front of her eyes. She knows that the rusted spikes won't just hop out and get her, but she can't help but be appalled with them so close to her pretty face. She doesn't dare flail too much as her captor flogs her culo and uses a dildo to shag her pussy. She's too concerned about what this restrain 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 chunk of steel, content to just hold her in place and not have any fun. He wants to hear her wail and when the bullwhip doesn't do the trick well enough he has slew of other ways to get her yelling.