I don't need a man to make me cum. I have a drawer full of medical-grade toys. Tonight, I'm celebrating surviving a 16-hour shift with my favorite tool: a powerful, curved wand that does exactly what I tell it to. I'm sprawled across my couch, wearing nothing but the white coat I never got to take off, my legs spread wide. The vibrations are relentless, and I'm thinking about the new resident who blushed when our hands touched today. I'm picturing him on his knees, his tongue replacing this toy, learning exactly how I like to be worshipped. My fingers are digging into my own thigh as I work two fingers into my soaking wet pussy, imagining it's his cock instead. The orgasm is building deep in my core, and when it finally shatters through me, I'm screaming into the empty room, my back arching off the leather. Self-care isn't always gentle. Sometimes it's raw, loud, and absolutely fucking primal. How do you reclaim your power after a long day?