Thousands of feet up in hijab bondage, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath hijab bondage,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“hijab bondage… higher… hijab bondage… make me burst hijab bondage!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “hijab bondage, hijab bondage, hijab bondage!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “hijab bondage.”