Trussed up like a trussed bird, her wings bound, the angel awaits her tormentor. The dungeon mistress arrives, her heels clicking on the stone floor, a cruel smile playing on her lips. She snaps the whip, the tail cracking like thunder, the angel flinching. The mistress begins, her strikes precise, each one drawing a cry from the bound beauty. The angel's body dances under the assault, her skin flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The mistress works her over, turning the angel's flesh a delicate shade of red, pushing her to the brink of her endurance.