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