Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine most likely shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills unusual fellows give her. She's too super-fucking-hot to not know better. Folks have been paying attention to her since she commenced hardening those puffy lil' knockers of hers. Her uber-sexy legs and taut 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 studied every inch of her gorgeous body. If he was just smashing her she would most likely hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his jizz-shotgun wet, no matter how super-fucking-hot of a chunk of bum he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head cell he'd like her to attempt out for him. Barbed cord and cold iron shell her, she can see them right in front of her eyes. She knows that the rusted spikes won't just jump 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 bum and uses a fuck stick to fuck her pussy. She's too concerned about what this restrain bondage helmet will do to her if she unbalances it.