The Art of Seduction in strangle bondage

Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and strangle bondage. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “strangle bondage” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see strangle bondage come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “strangle bondage, strangle bondage, fuck, strangle bondage!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “strangle bondage” release.