"Gopfertelli! My eggs are scrambled!" she cursed as her fall was broken by a flagpole that was located directly below the puddle of oil. Indeed she had landed with one leg on either side of the flagpole. (Patreon)

  She was starting to understand that this couldn’t be mere coincidence.

But there was no time to think on that any more, as her battered pussy slide down the cold metal pole, which was inclined toward the wall, until her back was against the stone. Already on guard for such things, she realized that tiny hooks had pierced her shirt and vest. Maybe they would keep her from falling any further.