Lovers Of The Whip

 My magnificent master-sir utters the words I dread the most:

‘Slave, fetch the WHIP!’

I kiss his BOOTS, whilst fearfully acknowledging my slavish obedience to his dreaded command!

‘Yes, master sir. At once, master sir. Please don’t beat me, sir?’

His pretty girlfriend laughs and rubs her hands with undisguised glee, for she knows how much my master-sir loves to whip me! And she loves watching him whip me:

‘Don’t spare him, Harold. Whip him! He’s just our slave! Show him who’s boss. Make him wear the STING of your LASH!’

I grovel before my magnificent master-sir in the presence of his lovely girlfriend

‘Slave, fetch the WHIP!’

If there's one thing I've learnt as a slave, it's the importance of always kissing one's masters' BOOTS!

‘Don’t spare him, Harold. Whip him!...  

...He’s just our slave!... 

...Show him who’s boss...

...Make him wear the STING of your LASH!’

The mistress's BOOTS - creased up with excitement and laughter at me!

The master-sir points to his beloved WHIP!

The WHIP, I say!... The master's WHIP!

Better to KISS BOOT, than FEEL WHIP!

'WHIP him, Harold!... WHIP him!... The WHIP!'

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