Exploring the Secret Life and Adventures of forced prone bone

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