Oh, Star Mother, your light will shine brightest in my collection

Rosalina answered a faint cosmic distress call, landing alone in a shadowed citadel. There, the notorious Catchea sly, rope-wielding rogue who slips through dimensional rifts, claiming the finest beauties across every realm, sprang his trap. Crimson ropes whipped out, binding her swiftly, stripping her gown, and forcing her to her knees. Her starfire fizzled against the enchanted cords as he encased her curves in glossy black latex, gold stars teasing her nipples. The harness integrated with the ropes, hoisting her arms high and spreading her thighs wide. A mouth gag muffled her protests, drool glistening on her chin. Hanging there in the dungeon's dim glow, light streaming through the arched window like a spotlight on her predicament, Rosalina's cyan eyes fluttered half-lidded with a mix of defiance and unwelcome arousal. Her body glistened, bound and displayed, the latex creaking softly with each shallow breath. The Catcher circled her, admiring his prize. "The stars will weep for you... but you'll beg for more." And so, the Comet Queen dangled, helpless and exquisite—truly the Catcher's Best. What came next? Only he knew, but her glistening form promised pleasures beyond the stars.