I shall reclaim the slave who has been waiting for me on his knees, with nipple clips, for two hours, in front of the throne. I draw him up from the chain attached to his small breasts, causing him distress, but he simultaneously thanks me for my attention and the sight of my body.
I bind him to the cross. His constant chatter irks me. I scratch his back, pondering which whip to use. I choose the most formidable one I possess – pure leather. I commence whipping him, on both sides. I strike him with increasing intensity, making him squirm. His moans intermingle with expressions of gratitude. I persist. His plea for mercy emerges, along with his ragged breath, due to the severity of the blows.
Despite his hardened skin and tan, the marks and bruises are evident. They will not fade for quite some time…