The walls were painted black and covered with Flo graffiti, which glowed like rainbows under the black lights. Sitting in front of them was a woman, her hands and arms tied with Japanese ropes. The customize sexdoll sat on the chair with its back to the audience, and its huge breasts hung over the back of the chair.

There was a bench in front of the chair, and Sparrow was lying on it. Her breasts were best sex dolls, clamped in a nipple compression clamp with narrow strips, and the swollen breasts were pushed out and turned purple. In front of her stood a tall man dressed in black Edwardian costume.

He wore a dog mask to hide his identity. But I could see the woman's face, and although she didn't make a sound, I could see the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead and a thought in her eyes, it looked like he was there.

I could hear myself whispering what I imagined were pulsating rings, but I couldn't pinpoint shemale sex dolls. The man brought a metal tray with syringes of various sizes, and I saw the smallest being stabbed into a nipple.

To my surprise, the woman's breathing wasn't loud, but rather she seemed to be taking deep breaths, as if she had a dented tire. I've never performed breast or nipple torture on myself or anyone else, but I've heard of it.

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