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