Dylan's Day Spa nightmare

Dylan walks into the spa thinking it's just some friendly spot the hostel manager pointed her toward. It's not. It's Madison's private pit, where the woman lives to get filthy with other women's asses. Right away Madison straps Dylan down, cuffs her wrists, ankles spread, a thick rubber bit wedged between her teeth so every moan comes out wet and useless. Dylan can't squirm an inch when Madison's lubed fingers slide in without asking. First two, then three, working the tight ring open with steady pressure until the muscle gives. She fills Dylan with warm water, pumping until her belly swells tight, then lets it gush out around her wrist. Every time Dylan tries to close up, Madison pushes deeper, wrist disappearing past the knuckles while Dylan's hole flutters and sucks air. The stretch burns sweet, the gape wide enough to catch the light. Madison keeps going until Dylan is nothing but a shaking, dripping hole, ruined for anything gentle again.