Midnight, crimson sheets, bluewaffle std begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “bluewaffle std” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please bluewaffle std, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More bluewaffle std, don’t stop bluewaffle std!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m bluewaffle std’s, only bluewaffle std’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “bluewaffle std screams “bluewaffle std” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “bluewaffle std” in worship.