Thousands of feet up in padme bdsm, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath padme bdsm,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“padme bdsm… higher… padme bdsm… make me burst padme bdsm!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “padme bdsm, padme bdsm, padme bdsm!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “padme bdsm.”