No Sense Of Irony

My mistress Mukta, with absolutely no sense of irony or compassion, advises me to ‘get a good night’s rest’ as I languish in the wonky stocks at the bottom of her garden, as she nonchalantly informs me that her husband, my master Simon sir, is going to WHIP me in the morning!

No explanation is forthcoming as to exactly why my master-sir is minded to WHIP me, but then master Simon sir will oftentimes WHIP me on a manly WHIM!

As I kiss-respect my mistress Mukta’s white SNEAKER and study the accompanying white SNEAKER-SOCK, I contemplate my promised WHIPPING, knowing that I am in for an even more uncomfortable and restless night than usual in the wonky stocks as I very much fear my master’s WHIP!

And Ms Mukta, of course, knows that!

I humbly kiss-respect my mistress Mukta's presented SNEAKER...

...as she nonchalantly informs me of my forthcoming WHIPPING!

Normally, I would kiss feet in an effort to avoid the WHIP

But this time, it seems, my footkissing will make no difference...

...since it is the SNEAKER-WEARER'S HUSBAND, my master Simon sir, who is minded to WHIP me!

As I ponder my pretty mistress's SOCK...

...I simultaneously ponder the WHIP!

My enslaved back is, sadly, already very familiar with the WHIP'S STING!

Ms Mukta knows full well that, by announcing my forthcoming WHIPPING in advance, my night shall be anything but 'restful'!

But that is her prerogative...

...to leave me languishing in fear overnight...

...as I contemplate the PAIN that is to come!

The PAIN of the WHIP!

I'm sure she feels absolutely no sense of irony about the fact that her words of warning will make my night in the wonky stocks all the more restless!

Ms Mukta can be cruel like that, and I admire her, and her SOCKS, all the more for it!


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