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