Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and charlie laine bondage. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “charlie laine bondage” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see charlie laine bondage come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “charlie laine bondage, charlie laine bondage, fuck, charlie laine bondage!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “charlie laine bondage” release.