“Nn… hff… mmph… haa… ngh…💕”
Nureba wrapped body gave a faint twitch,
the fists sealed tight in vinyl just barely shifting—
just enough to brush against the chastity mark.
Nureba couldn’t grasp.
Nureba couldn’t stroke.
All Nureba could do was rub… awkwardly, faintly,
with the dull curve of a bound hand.
Beneath the plastic wrap,
the sensation was always almost there—
never enough—
and it only made the need grow stronger.
Hotter.
More helpless.