Die Erste Nadelung
My fingers dance over your worthless manhood, slathering it in deceptive balm before the torment unleashes. I clamp those green vices tight, squeezing until your muffled cries echo through the mask discarded at my feet. Chains pull taut, stretching your flesh to breaking. Then the needle plunges deep, crimson beads blooming like forbidden roses. I … Die Erste Nadelung