Power tools and a power trip

Anastasia brings the heavy artillery when she gets her latest girl under her. She’s the kind of domme who walks in, says sit, and the whole room obeys. She clamps that battery-powered drill between her girl’s legs, cranks the trigger, and suddenly the bit’s spinning so fast it’s nothing but a blur pounding her clit like a jackhammer. At the same time she’s weaving rope around wrists, tits, and spread thighs, jerking every knot so tight the skin pales. Every scream that rips out of the girl just makes Anastasia smirk, push the drill harder, yank another cord tighter. She loves watching the brat break—spit running down her chin, eyes glassy, hips bucking even though it hurts—until the only word left is “please, Mistress.” Once she’s that far gone, Anastasia owns her: every gasp, every drop of slick, every future orgasm belongs to her and only her.