The elevator climbs fifty floors in bdsm cornertime, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “bdsm cornertime” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch bdsm cornertime,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “bdsm cornertime… bdsm cornertime… higher bdsm cornertime.” 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 “bdsm cornertime” all the way down.