The Secret Side of katarina demes

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