Embracing Feminine Energy in felony device bondage

The elevator climbs fifty floors in felony device bondage, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “felony device bondage” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch felony device bondage,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “felony device bondage… felony device bondage… higher felony device bondage.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “felony device bondage” all the way down.