Quaking In Your Bonds

Are you quaking in your bonds, slave?

If not, you should be! For you are firmly secured to the whipping post; your back is bare and exposed; and she is a fit young woman holding a brown leather whip!

So I would suggest you plead with her for mercy, and humbly offer to kiss her boots and socks in an effort to ingratiate yourself with her. Beg, slave! Beg your better for sweet feminine mercy, in the language of humble and respectful slavespeak!

I suggest you say something like this:

‘Oh pray, pretty mistress, if it pleases you pretty mistress, pray spare this cowardly slave’s back from the biting, searing pain of your whip, madam, for this slave is but a weak and feeble male, miss, and he truly fears the burn of the female whip! Oh pray, pretty mistress, oh pray! This slave would fall to his hands and knees and lick your boots, madam. He would kiss your socks, if it so pleases you madam. He would whine into your socks, and nuzzle them, for they are the socks of a goddess, miss, and they are better than him. Of pray, mistress! The whip; the fear; the pain. I throw myself at your mercy, beautiful lady, and at the mercy of your boots and socks!’

Of course, none of this will do you any good, wretch! You can tell by the look on her face that her pretty mind is made up. She will whip you. But by thus pleading for your male back skin, at least you will have lost all sense of personal dignity, and shall suffer and writhe on the whipping post in a manner befitting a slave – beaten and broken; a quivering wreck; a tribute to her female power!


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