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