Sonya and Sonya's slave

They barely made it past the threshold before Sonya grabbed her girl by the throat and shoved her against the wall. Her slave’s eyes widened, already wet between the legs. Sonya didn’t ask. She yanked the rope from her bag, spun her around, and cinched the wrists behind her back so tight the girl hissed through her teeth. Ankles followed. Then the hogtie—back arched, tits out, completely helpless. The studio lights were still off, but the hose on the floor wasn’t. Sonya dragged the nozzle over, cranked it on, and let the freezing stream blast across bare skin. Her slave jerked, gasping, nipples instantly hard. Water pooled around her, soaking the floor, turning every twist into a wet slide. Sonya watched her squirm, face flushed, breath sharp. She leaned close, whispered something filthy, then pressed the hose between spread thighs and held it there. The stream pulsed. Her slave’s moan cracked open. Fear flickered under the pleasure—sharp, real—but she didn’t safeword. She couldn’t. Not with her mouth full of rope and her cunt under pressure. Sonya kept the water going until the girl was shaking, dripping, ruined. Then she shut it off, left her there, bound and dripping, waiting for whatever came next.