Red, shiny bikini bottoms catching every light, making it impossible for you to look away. Every stroke feels amplified against that glossy fabric, every edge more dangerous. Better restrict your tempo, jerk boy, if you want to survive all 24 hours; those hips are designed to make you break.
Each clip starts by telling you you’re too weak, and maybe you are—until I take you in hand. I’ll shred your confidence, then rebuild your obedience. Without my guidance you crumble, with me you learn to crave the torment that makes you mine.