Hot Under Her Spell: Julia Ann dominates hypnotherapist India Summer

Julia Ann walks in tight and pissed off. Another therapist. Another hour of talking in circles. But India Summer starts talking soft, guiding her into that slow, floating place—and something flips. Julia's eyes open different. She grabs the hypnotherapist by the collar and hauls her across her lap. Skirt shoved up, bare ass out. Julia's palm cracks down, sharp, over and over. Each smack leaves India gasping, thighs flexing, trying to hold still. Binder clips bite both nipples. The pink flesh swells, dark. Julia's fingers slide between India's legs, find her soaked, and push in—two at once, then three. Tongue on clit, ruthless rhythm. India comes hard, shakes, comes again. Julia doesn't let up. Next thing, India's on all fours, wrists cuffed, a cold metal hook seated deep in her ass. Julia swings the flogger—leather across her back, then her cheeks, sting and thud. India moans when the tails hit. Julia tickles the soles of her feet, making her twitch around the steel inside her. India gets her mouth to work. She licks Julia's cunt, then lower, tongue circling her tight hole while Julia grinds on her face. Julia comes with a low growl, soaking the therapist's mouth. Metal bars lock India in place. Julia straps on thick and hard, lines up, drives in. Ball gag keeps India's cries muffled. Julia fucks her deep, then holds the zapper close—threat, not touch—while she pounds. When India comes, Julia doesn't stop. She pulls out, presses the head against that smaller hole, and pushes. India's ass stretches, takes it. Missionary, then doggy, ponytail wrapped tight in Julia's fist. India keeps coming. Julia keeps driving. They end tangled together, legs scissored, wet and desperate, grinding until both break—shaking, loud, done.