Olga’s Whip

In Praise Of My Mistress Olga’s Whip

Olga’s whip,

Hangs on the door.

Olga’s whip,

Incredibly sore!

Olga’s whip,

Cruel and biting.

Olga’s whip,

Slim and exciting!

I kneel and admire my mistress’s whip,

Though truly I fear its companionship!

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My mistress Olga’s brown leather, single-tailed, cowhide whip dominates my existence. I make sure I show proper respect for my beautiful mistress at all times, precisely because of my fear of her whip:

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Likewise I know my place, thanks to the power of her whip, which is at the feet of her and her boyfriend:

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My mistress Olga invites her boyfriend – my master sir – to rest his weary foot on the nape of my neck, because he is, as she kindly explains to him, a much better man than me. Unlike me, the master sir can happily turn his back on the whip – for he knows it will never strike his back in anger! That’s because my mistress adores him, as much as she despises me.

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Finally, I humbly kiss my mistress Olga’s boots, next to the master-sir’s bare foot and flip flop which had, until recently, rested on the back of my rusty, iron-collared neck, in the sure and certain knowledge that, deep inside those brown, leather cowboy boots, my mistress is wearing short, white anklesocks (I know that, because I smoothed them onto her pretty feet first thing this morning) – and that her whip, though it hangs on the back of her door, is never far from my back!

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