carol amorim: Chronicles of Courage, Discovery, and Triumph

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