The room is dimly lit. The submissive, known as Will, stands spread-eagled, a leather ball stretcher pulling his scrotum taut. Enter the Knave, a thin, sharp-eyed woman with a crooked grin. She circles him slowly, tapping a riding crop against her palm. "You know, Will, you look terribly nervous. Don’t tell me you thought this would be gentle?" She reaches out and squeezes him, watching his face contort. He groans. Knave: "Oh, that was just a hello. Now, I'm going to ask you a riddle. If you answer correctly, I'll let you rest for ten seconds. If you get it wrong..." She points to her right foot, clad in a heavy boot. Knave: "...we play another round." Will guesses wrong on purpose. The Knave laughs, not a mean cackle, but a delighted, roguish giggle. She holds his gaze and delivers a swift, precise kick that folds him over. She leans close to his ear. Knave: "Wrong again, darling. I do love a man who makes my game easy."
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