Chelsea asks Linny a elementary question, but when Linny's response is a softly spoken mumble and Chelsea misunderstands totally, it's one more journey over Chelsea's knee for the likewise shy Linny.
If Cloudy screams “I wish it tighter!” throughout her gag, the wrist and ankle bondage cinches further—a endless loop of choice betwixt lash strikes and unbearable compression.
The clover clamps descend on her teats, tethered to a distant bar, stretching her torso constricted as the neck brace yanks her onto trembling tiptoes.
Made onto a spike-studded mat, her naked feet submit to the cold-blooded texture during the time that Fiddler’s leather slapper and single-tail flog paint her ass cheeks crimson. But this is mere prelude.