A woman is laid prone on a white, stitched-panel leather pad—looks like a padded bench or exam table. She's on her stomach, hips hiked up, head canted to one side on the surface, mouth gaping wide showing the teeth, like she's mid-strain or mid-scream. Her dark hair's wet and plastered in clumps across her face and neck. Nails are painted a loud coral-red, one hand splayed flat on the pad in front of her. Clinically, on the outfit, she's in black strappy high-heel sandals, stiletto heel, cut-out lattice uppers, buckle fastened at the ankle. Across her torso and pelvis there's a black leather harness rig—multiple straps with metal D-rings and buckles, garter-style loops around the upper thigh, cinching around the waist and ribcage, the kind of strapping that holds a body down. One forearm is encircled by a chunky black leather cuff studded with metal grommets. That's it for clothing, the rest of the back and legs are bare skin. A man is mounted on her from behind, bare-thighed, one bare foot braced near her lower back, one hand clamped over the back of her skull with fingers spread through her hair, pinning her head down to the pad.