This week, Stormy Daniels brought a brand-new erotics to the American witness stand. In telling of her lurid encounter with Donald Trump in 2006, she didn’t seem like a victim—or even a survivor—of anything. She seemed like a bored domme who never fails to keep the whip hand.
How she managed to hold this pose even when describing depressing sex she’d had with a powerful, ugly, oversized lech of twice her age—the kind of reminiscence that usually occasions tears—I have no idea. There’s just something about Stormy. And even if the sexual intercourse she had with Trump was “missionary-style,” as she described it, she emerged as the ultimate top for our time, running an erotic scene straight from the playbook of humiliatrix porn.
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