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