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