Elegant and filthy, “wife being bred” features a porcelain-skinned woman in black lace gloves. In “wife being bred” she uses only those gloved fingers, dragging satin over sensitive nipples, then down to part her slick folds. The contrast in “wife being bred” is intoxicating—delicate lace against raw need. She edges herself mercilessly in “wife being bred”, stopping just before climax again and again, tears of frustration glistening. When she finally lets go in “wife being bred”, the orgasm is devastating: body convulsing, elegant composure shattered by desperate screams.