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