In the dimly lit dungeon of the Graias universe, Nike is led to a sturdy wooden frame, her wrists and ankles secured by leather straps. Dr. Lomp, clad in his signature latex, circles her, inspecting her body like a sculptor appraising his clay. He selects a long, thin cane, its tip flicking across Nike's quivering skin. She gasps as the first strike lands, a thin line of red appearing on her alabaster flesh. With each lash, Nike's body jerks, her moans of pain intermingling with the sharp cracks of the cane against her flesh, a symphony of punishment and pleasure in the name of learning.