My friend Scarlet and I enter with confidence and seduction, knowing full well the effect we have on the slave locked in the cage. He has been there for a long time, and we want him to believe that, once free, he will have the opportunity to worship our bodies. We free him, letting the illusion grow stronger as we brush against him, fueling his fantasies as he abandons himself to pleasure. But there is no reward for such a pathetic servant. The real game begins hours later: slaps, spits, kicks and knees put him back in his place, followed by clamps clamped on his nipples and the sharp sound of the whip marking his skin. Finally we leave him bent over on the floor, exhausted and in pain, while our presence dominates the scene, reminding him who is in charge.
