My slave awaits my arrival, bound to a cross. I approach him, lowering his boxers, cane in hand – he remains unaware. A firm strike to his rear, leaving a red mark to match my boots. The coordination of my outfit is no accident…
I then pick up a nine-tailed whip, stepping towards his back. The marks begin to appear, and I take pleasure in exacerbating them. The final strikes will be delivered with my “snake,” as he counts and screams.