‘Simon darling, would you fetch me the whip, please?’
‘Sure thing, honey!’
My master Simon sir gleefully goes to fetch the whip – a whip soon to be destined for my back – as I kiss his wife's feet and beg for mercy!
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‘Simon darling, would you fetch me the whip, please?’ |
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‘Sure thing, honey!’ |
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I desperately kiss Ms Mukta's feet whilst her husband goes to fetch the WHIP! |
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'Oh mercy, Ms Mukta madam! Mercy! Oh pray, mistress - not the WHIP, madam!' |
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Kiss...kiss...kiss...kiss... |
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...kiss...kiss...kiss...kiss... |
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Ms Mukta switches feet in front of my feetkissing face... |
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...not that it's likely to do me any good! |
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'Mercy, mistress! Mercy!' |
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'Oh pray, mistress! Oh beg!' |
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'I kiss your feet, madam!' |
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'Here you are, honey - the WHIP!' |
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'Haha - you're going to be WHIPPED, slave!' |
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'The WHIP, I say... |
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...the WHIP!' |