Kris Blent’s whip cracks against Ashton Bradley’s back as he pins him to the frame, fingers already probing deep inside his tight hole while the blond’s breath hitches between moans. Strapped down, Ashton arches into each strike, his muscles taut as Kris drives into him hard, the ropes cutting into his wrists. The wooden frame groans under their weight, the only sound louder than the wet slap of flesh meeting leather.
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