My slaves have no choice but to endure my whip when I am so inclined to beat their backs. When I assume the role of tormentor, dressed in my red latex dress, my slaves know that punishment will surely follow. Using my vicious black leather whip, I lay waste to my slave's vulnerable back, turning what pale white flesh red with whiplashed injury.

Chained with no escape, my slave wants to run with fear. With my unrelenting strikes I carve hard lines across his back, down to his ass. He is under my spell, paralyzed with suffering.