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