Between her catsuit and makeshift chastity belt, Tiffany was, frankly, a horny mess. Her harness gag kept her protest to a low, mumbled roar. With the use of a single belt she was soon uncomfortably on her knees with her elbows pulled behind her, tethered around a handrail as if she was a decoration. Worse, with her elbows pulled behind her, any hope of her hands making the experience more pleasurable went out the window. More belts soon followed as she watched her world become more and more immobilized.