Zoey Laine - Trophy Catch

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Out she goes. Zoey Laine probably shouldn't just pick up and take whatever pills unusual Fellows give her. She's too warm to not know better. Fellows have been paying attention to her since she commenced getting taller those pointy tiny tits of hers. Her spectacular gams and taut booty 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 sexy body. If he was just ravaging her she would probably hate it less. O.T. has never been all that interested in getting his prick wet, no matter how warm of a lump of booty he just reeled in. Instead he has a fresh head cell he'd like her to attempt out for him. Barbed cable 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 lashes her booty and uses a faux-cock to drill 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 moan and when the cat o' nine tails doesn't do the trick well enough he has slew of other ways to get her yelling.