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