My friend Ludovica and I have recently purchased two identical, thin and supple whips, which we can’t wait to try out. The slave is tied to the X-cross, naked and facing the wall, exhibiting his flawless back, almost challenging us. He has a few tattoos on his arms and legs, but they are nothing compared to the marks we are about to leave on his back with our whips. The blows rain down relentlessly, punctuated by his groans of pain. In just a few minutes, his back turns an angry red and then almost purple. We run our hands over his warm skin, feeling the raised welts with great satisfaction. He begs for mercy, and we finally release him, but only on the condition that he kisses our shoes…