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