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You've been threatening to end our arrangement if I don't give you anal, and you recently stormed out after I rejected your proposition for the tenth time. At first, I thought you were just being toxic and awful, but at last, I've changed my tune. Sure, babe. We can do anal. But I need to feel completely in-control, so you'll need to be strapped into this special bondage furniture. You think you're about to totally score- until I walk in with a two-foot-long strap-on, and you can't say a word to object, since your mouth is wiiiiide open in a spider gag. You wanted hard, ruthless, long, deep anal- and you're going to get it. No matter how much you beg or writhe or scream, you'll take it all the way to the hilt, in every hole- for hours. You wanted anal SO BADLY, after all. And the best part? I'm recording every moment, and the way you moan when you take my strap sure does make it sound like you're loving this. I'm sure your political constituents will find that SO interesting- but as long as you keep meeting up with me for more merciless anal poundings, and of course, hand over thousands upon thousands of dollars a week, this can stay our little secret.