Lady D. was badass to the bone. Blonde and hirsute, with her wild bush peaking around the corners of her leopard-spotted, silk bikini and her outrageous prize-winning breasts; she would wrestle a male client to the ground. smash him in the face and then hop over his naked, supine body, cup his head, and feed him her fine, pink pussy, along with a drink of a friendly, intimate, guaranteed squirt.

When she was bored, she was prone to time travel. A natural-born troubleshooter, she would return to biblical times and challenge a Goliath, sling a stone to knock him down, and then chop his head off and keep on chopping. Or, Lady D. would head out to the future, to the Tentacle Age, and suck tentacles all night long and then disappear before breakfast.

But, perhaps, her favorite thing was letting her pet put her in four-point restraints and then feel her servant’s tongue stick on her crotch like fly paper. Lady D. would first quiver and pulse. Then her ass would pump like a bee’s bottom and she would begin to thrash and moan like a mental patient on that new drug, quickasil. Until she gushed forth like a geyser bursting out of the earth. That’s when the infamous Lady D. was happiest.