I have secured my slave to a chain web, akin to a spider’s web, in the dungeon’s stone wall. His fate is sealed, immobile, like a spider’s prey. But, for this slave, the spider is none other than me, Lady Scarlet. I won’t devour him, but I crave to play with him, to break his resistance. I slap him, mercilessly, alternating hands, his face reddening swiftly. Each slap is relished, my hands growing red, mirroring his pain and my pleasure.