Gina Killmer, the master of her domain, reduces her slave to a quivering wreck with her mere presence. She prowls around him, her heels clicking on the polished floor, a bayonet clutched in her gloved hand. His eyes follow her every move, fear and desire warring within him. She seizes him, forcing him onto his back, and spreads his legs roughly. She teases his entrance with the bayonet's tip, making him squirm, before plunging it deep into his cunt. She rides him, her body moving with a feline grace, her eyes locked on his as she uses him for her pleasure. The slave's cries fill the room, a symphony of his mistress's triumph.