My sharp, brown singletail cutting into my slave’s back and a good smoke. These are some of life’s simple pleasures. And it’s made all the more fun by the screams of my slave. He’s so weak and has trouble handling a good thrashing. He hates pain. But that’s part of the joy of whipping him, right? Dressed in a leather disciplinarian skirt, sharp pumps, a tight corset, white blouse, and driving gloves, it’s all too easy to see who is the Mistress and who is the bitch here. I whip him again and again until he is crying and pleading no, but my dirty gym socks in his mouth muffle out his cries. It’s all too easy to punish a weak male like him. While whipping, I let the white filter cigarette dangle between my lips so that I can use both hands in punishing my slave. The ash grows longer and longer…and in between whip strokes, I use him as a human ashtray, ashing on his ugly bald head, running my lit ember on his nipples, and burning him on the ass. An extra bit of fire to the burning of my whip.
