Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine most likely shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills unusual men give her. She's too torrid to not know better. Dudes have been paying attention to her since she began getting taller those pointy little titties of hers. Her sumptuous gams and tight 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 inspected every inch of her beautiful body. If he was just nailing her she would most likely hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his manstick wet, no matter how torrid of a lump of culo he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head box he'd like her to attempt out for him. Barbed string and cold iron sheath her, she can watch 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 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 fake penis to pummel 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 lump of steel, content to just hold her in place and not have any fun. He wants to hear her yell and when the bullwhip doesn't do the trick well enough he has lot other ways to get her yelling.