Bound tightly to a St. Andrew's Cross, a willing victim awaits Stephenson's expert touch. She circles him, a cat playing with a mouse, her eyes never leaving his body. She picks up a flogger, its suede falls caressing his skin before she begins to paint patterns of red across his back. His moans fill the room, a mix of pain and ecstasy. She leans in, her breath hot on his ear, "More?" she whispers. He nods, eager for the dance to continue. She smiles, her hand trailing down his body, finding him hard and ready, a testament to his enjoyment of their game.