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