Between floors, the elevator halts in bdsm wooden pony. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, bdsm wooden pony,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “bdsm wooden pony, watch bdsm wooden pony come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “bdsm wooden pony, faster, bdsm wooden pony!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “bdsm wooden pony, bdsm wooden pony, fuck, bdsm wooden pony!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”