In Graias' dimly-lit dungeon, a slave is bound and bent over, her bare ass quivering in anticipation. The mistress, her heels clicking ominously, wields a sleek leather whip. She snaps it through the air, the crack echoing like thunder. The first lash strikes the slave's flesh, a crimson line blooming where it lands. She gasps, her body tensing, but the mistress commands her to remain still. The whipping continues, each strike landing with precision, painting a intricate pattern of pain and pleasure on the slave's skin.