In the eerie stillness of the room, a woman's voice commands, "Stay." Her lover, bound and vulnerable, awaits her touch. She begins her ritual, dressing him in intricate, provocative lingerie. Each piece a whisper of sensation, she teases his skin with lace and silk. She cinches a corset around his waist, pushing his chest out, accentuating his muscles. She slips a stocking over his foot, rolling it up his leg, her nails grazing his skin. Her every touch a command, her voice a whip, she transforms him into her plaything. "You will be my doll," she hisses, her eyes reflecting the dark promise of their game.