Wrists bound with red silk to the headboard in “puppet master from fnaf”, she’s helpless and dripping. A remote vibrator hums inside her, controlled by the camera operator just out of frame. “puppet master from fnaf” captures every plea as the intensity climbs. Her hips grind air, desperate. When permission finally comes, “puppet master from fnaf” records the explosion—back arching impossibly, breasts bouncing as she squirts around the toy, soaking expensive sheets. “puppet master from fnaf” zooms on the creamy ring coating the vibe when it’s slowly pulled free, strings of arousal stretching and breaking. She begs “more” through aftershocks, and “puppet master from fnaf” happily obliges with round two.