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