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