Pride In Her Whip
Ms Arabella madam is tormenting me in the stocks with her brown leather whip. She is crouching down to my face, in the rain, and explaining to me that she takes great pride in her whip. She shows it to me in all its gory detail, whilst describing its reputed pain. She uses the word ‘reputed’ because she herself, of course, has never been on the receiving end of the whip, and never will. But she assures me that many slaves have told her the sting of her whip it is the worst pain known to man.
She repeats that she is proud of the fact her whip is so painful. She takes all the credit for this, pointing out how well oiled it is, and explains that’s because she has steadfastly lubricated it in order to make it more supple, so that when she applies it to my back it will wrap itself around my flanks, biting cruelly into my ribs. She asks me whether I wouldn’t much rather feel the embrace of her soft, warm, feminine body than the biting, burning sting of her harsh leather whip, and I reply that , whilst she is undeniably a most beautiful and warm young woman, it would not be appropriate for a dirty slave like me to experience her love and affection, since the agonising embrace of her whip is much more suited for the likes of me.
She says she is glad I feel that way as she despises me, and could never feel any love or affection towards me, or even pity, since I’m just a slave. She will enjoy hurting me with her whip. But she asks do I think I will be able to endure the pain with manly fortitude? Or will I cry out and beg for mercy, like a wimp? I reply that, being a mere weak slave, it is sadly inevitable that I shall cry out and beg for mercy, and I apologise in advance for my weakness under the whip. She laughs at me – to my face – and says she would expect nothing less from a pathetic, weakling of a slave such as myself. She verbally mocks my impotence and helplessness, before informing me that this has been enough chitter chatter, and it is now time to put my pain into practice. It is time for the whip!
I thank mistress Arabella madam for her kindness in taking the time to show me her whip, and humbly request to be permitted to kiss her black boots and white socks, as a demonstration of my maleslavish respect for her female power and authority over me. She stands up and tells me she will only let me kiss them after she has delivered my whipping, so that I can thank her for the pain she has just inflicted upon me. I thank her kindly for her kind promise, and fearfully brace myself as she walks behind me and unfurls her whip ready to rain down multitudinous blows of freshly lubricated leather upon my bent over and exposed back.
From the first stroke, I screamed. By the final stroke, I moaned – weakened and subdued by her magnificent whip. She stood proudly before me as I subsequently kiss-respected her boots and socks and thanked her for inflicting such terrible pain upon me. She said I deserved it, and I wholeheartedly concurred, though I begged to be spared any more cuts from her mighty, female whip!
She beamed with pride. And rightly so.
