Low-angle shot, wide angle. I’m secured in a leather chair, my arms spread wide and pulled taut by steel chains attached to the ceiling, my legs spread wide and secured by massive leather straps at the ankles. My back is arched in an unnatural, erotic curve. My skin is pale, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, with bright red marks from the straps on my wrists and thighs. Samantha’s face is a distorted mask of ecstasy and shame, her lips are parted, her tongue is slightly protruding, her eyes are rolled back, revealing the whites, and her gaze is fixed on my backside. I deliberately relax the sphincter, allowing the inner pink mucosa to twist outward, pulsating in time with my racing heart. I use my fingers to spread the buttocks as wide as possible, creating a deep, moist “entrance” that is now literally begging for your intrusion. All the details are visible, the moist sheen, the pulsation of the muscles, the drops of lubricant running down the inner sides of the thighs.