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