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