In a dungeon of shadows and leather, Nick Moretti, a vision of dominance in his tailored, black leather gear, orders Jason Miller into a harness of straps and buckles. Moretti's hands, encased in smooth leather gloves, tighten the bindings, Miller's breath hitching as the leather bites into his flesh. Moretti's voice, a low rumble, commands Miller to present his ass, which he does, eagerly. Moretti admires the sight, his leather-clad hand caressing Miller's cheek, before raising his cane, the room falling silent in anticipation of the first, searing strike.