With a sneer, Dominaangelica looks down at the pathetic figure before her, dressed in lingerie and panties, his face a picture of despair and longing. She circles him, her heels clicking on the hardwood, her voice a whip cracking as she insults his manhood, his worthiness. He's nothing but a sissy, a cuckold, a toy for her amusement. She forces him to mimic her, to mimic other women, to debase himself utterly. She watches, amused, as he soils himself, as he begs for her forgiveness, her touch, her approval. But she gives him none, only more degradation, more humiliation, until he's a quivering, sobbing mess at her feet.