bettiebondage: Chronicles of Dreams, Love, and Discovery

Spotlights illuminate only her in bettiebondage. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want bettiebondage,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “bettiebondage… look at bettiebondage… worship bettiebondage.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “bettiebondage!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.