Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine very likely shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills strange guys give her. She's too sizzling to not know better. Fellows have been paying attention to her since she commenced growing those puffy tiny melons of hers. Her splendid gams 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 explored every inch of her sexy body. If he was just banging her she would very likely hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his rod wet, no matter how sizzling of a lump of ass he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head cell he'd like her to try out for him. Barbed cable and cold iron shell her, she can witness 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 terrified with them so close to her pretty face. She doesn't dare flail too much as her captor canes her ass and uses a nail stick to nail her pussy. She's too worried about what this restrain bondage helmet will do to her if she unbalances it. Zoey should be more worried 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 bellow and when the singletail whip doesn't do the trick well enough he has lot other ways to get her yelling.