City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in star trek bondage. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with star trek bondage,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“star trek bondage, star trek bondage, star trek bondage!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “star trek bondage” down on the streets fifty stories below.