abella dager: Chronicles of Dreams, Adventure, and Hope

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