Chained with his hands up to the ceiling in the middle of Mistress Gaia 's studio, lifted until only the tips of his spread feet can touch the ground, Our slave is a helpless prey in front of Our whips. Circling him, We look for his weak spots before We attack. Whipping him from both sides, We don't give him any chance to evade the lashes; he can swing and turn any way he wants, the tips of Our whips will find his soft flesh and bite deep into it. Front, back, sides; the whips don't care, and neither do We. We're just enjoying making him dance in p... Show more