Revenge Videos
The Vengeance
Who Am I?
Kitana Lure lived the kind of life people make movies about—fame, cash, freedom. Then some kid without a license smashed into her. Legs smashed, career finished. Years later she tracked the girl down and dragged her home. Kate Quinn hit the floor still clueless. Kitana bent those slim limbs like soft clay, wrapped Kate’s ankles to the bedposts with silk straps. Kitana wore nothing but black lace that barely held her tits, the lace rubbing wet already. Kitana’s tongue traced Kate’s throat, tasted collarbone, traced each trembling nipple. Kate tasted like trouble—young, hot, guilty. Kitana took her time, licking the soft under-breast skin until Kate moaned. When Kate tried to speak, Kitana pressed two fingers between her lips and told her to earn forgiveness. Kate started with worship: tongue slow between Kitana’s toes, sucking each one clean, licking the salt from the arch. Kitana sighed, hips rolling. Not enough. She hauled Kate’s face between her thighs. “Work,” she ordered. Kate obeyed. She spread Kitana’s lips, flattened her tongue over that slick, swollen clit. Kitana rode the kid’s mouth hard, grinding until her thighs shook and hot cream coated Kate’s chin. Her moans cracked loud enough to echo down the hall, a broken dancer finally getting what she’d lost: control, pleasure, payback served wet and gasping.
Kitana Lure lived the kind of life people make movies about—fame, cash, freedom. Then some kid without a license smashed into her. Legs smashed, career finished. Years later she tracked the girl down and dragged her home. Kate Quinn hit the floor still clueless. Kitana bent those slim limbs like soft clay, wrapped Kate’s ankles to the bedposts with silk straps. Kitana wore nothing but black lace that barely held her tits, the lace rubbing wet already. Kitana’s tongue traced Kate’s throat, tasted collarbone, traced each trembling nipple. Kate tasted like trouble—young, hot, guilty. Kitana took her time, licking the soft under-breast skin until Kate moaned. When Kate tried to speak, Kitana pressed two fingers between her lips and told her to earn forgiveness. Kate started with worship: tongue slow between Kitana’s toes, sucking each one clean, licking the salt from the arch. Kitana sighed, hips rolling. Not enough. She hauled Kate’s face between her thighs. “Work,” she ordered. Kate obeyed. She spread Kitana’s lips, flattened her tongue over that slick, swollen clit. Kitana rode the kid’s mouth hard, grinding until her thighs shook and hot cream coated Kate’s chin. Her moans cracked loud enough to echo down the hall, a broken dancer finally getting what she’d lost: control, pleasure, payback served wet and gasping.