Barbie's captivity

Barbie White lies there, wrists knotted, legs parted wide. She cannot move, barely breathes deeper than shallow little gasps. Kathia Nobili hovers over her, slow and hungry, each new pressure calculated to draw another shiver from the taut, naked body. A finger circles one stiff nipple until Barbie winces, then slides lower. The room fills with the wet, private sound of Kathia working two fingers into the teen’s slick cunt, pumping in deliberate rhythm. Barbie’s hips twitch against the restraints. When the plastic shaft appears, Kathia presses it hard to her captive’s mouth first, lets saliva string along the shaft, then guides it between spread thighs. With short, practiced thrusts she buries it to the hilt, twisting until Barbie’s muscles flutter and surrender. Each time the toy withdraws it glistens; each time Kathia drives it back inside harder, owning the small, shuddering frame she holds prisoner.