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