Burn a hole

The mistress has her slave bound to a faded wooden bench with coarse rope, every knot pulled tight against bare skin. The locker room's cracked tiles still smell like old sweat and stale heat. She steps between those spread thighs and drives the massive dildo in hard and deep. The victim jerks and cries out, but the restraints bite harder. She works the length in rough, unhurried strokes, savoring every wet sound and helpless twitch. Sweat gathers at the hollow of the slave's throat. The mistress watches it trail downward, then slams again—deeper, merciless, the bench creaking beneath them like old bones.