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