Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine very likely shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills unusual boys give her. She's too steamy to not know better. Men have been paying attention to her since she embarked hardening those puffy tiny hooters of hers. Her fantastic gams and cock-squeezing bum 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 wonderful body. If he was just penetrating her she would very likely hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his boner wet, no matter how steamy of a piece of bum he just reeled in. Instead he has a new head cell he'd like her to attempt out for him. Barbed cord and cold iron sheath 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 horrified with them so close to her pretty face. She doesn't dare flail too much as her captor canes her bum and uses a faux-cock to fuck 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 piece of steel, content to just hold her in place and not have any fun. He wants to hear her wail and when the flogger doesn't do the trick well enough he has slew of other ways to get her yelling.