The spy's demise

Foxy Di sits under the bare bulb, wrists bound, navy uniform clinging to her curves. The interrogator doesn't ask twice. He steps behind her chair, grabs her hair, and yanks her head back until her throat opens. She takes his cock to the root, lips stretched, saliva dripping down his balls. When he wants more he bends her over the metal table, pulls her skirt up, and spreads her ass. One long thrust and he sinks deep. She gasps but pushes back, taking every inch while her heels scrape the floor. He fucks her hard, balls slapping, until she shudders and her tight hole squeezes him. He pulls out at the last second, spins her around, and strokes once before thick ropes land across her cheeks and open lips. She looks up at him, cum on her tongue, still in uniform, still defiant.