After a long day of bending men to my will, I come home buzzing with leftover power and need one thing: my favorite toy—you. Still dressed from a day of dominatrixing, I don’t waste time. You’re bent over, waiting, and I let all my pent-up energy pour into every thrust of my strap. This isn’t gentle; it’s release. It’s what happens when the world gets my cool composure, and you get what’s boiling underneath. You exist for this—my stress relief, my outlet, my good little fucktoy.