Amy knows what’s coming, just not who or in what order. Strung up inside a steel ring in the ceiling “guest suite,” she’s tastily adorned in her red and black cinch, collar chained overhead, ankles barred open and ballet heels laced on; she’s not going anywhere of her own choosing. Amy likes this part, getting wetter and squirmier as she tries to picture the next one. He’s an older guy, fit and hard, with cold, appraising eyes. This one’s clever enough to hold off on the whipping until he’s got the cushion out from under her and her shaved slit spread open by the hard, cold bar. Now even light flicks make her hurt her own most delicate spot with each twitch and shudder. Knows his way, this one. Might as well beg for something else hard in there, even if it’s only a rude, clear-acrylic toy designed to show off her deluxe interior. Amy pumps and twirls it, licking her glossed lips. She knows her way too. Would he like to see her plug her ass? It’s already nice and greasy. And think how nasty and dirty it will feel, fucking her front hole with her ass all stuffed. Of course, once she’s plugged with her rump in the air, a few stripes are inevitable, but he won’t be able to hold out long. Amy never gets whipped more than she wants to. She has too many other pleasures to offer.