After sufficiently painting his back red, the mistress orders her s*ffering sl*ve to turn over, so she can evenly colour each side of him. Treating him like a blank canvas of paper, she paints over his body with vicious red streaks lining his stomach like a red cross walk.

The wicked mistress grows tired of this feeble sl*ve’s squirming around each time she thrashes him with her whip, so she binds his arms over his head, attaching them to the ceiling. Now he is c*mpletely helpless to defend himself from any incoming bl*ws. He closes his eyes in fear as she walks behind, whip at the ready, before finally she unleashes a br*tal barrage of lashes that scar the sl*ve’s skin.

26:T5b6,

Bored with her standard routine of mundane training, mistress decides to spice things up with a game. She takes half a deck of cards, spreading them out in front of the sl*ve.
“ Pick a card. Whatever number it is will be how many lashings I give you at once. " she snarls. Begrudgingly, the pitiful sl*ve picks a card, grimacing as he sees the large number written on it. The twisted mistress orders her pathetic sl*ve onto all fours, before taking out a thick whip from her arsenal of toys.

The worthless sl*ve shudders in fear as he waits for the impending cr*ck of the whip. And like clockwork, the thrash comes in like a strike of lightning against his back, making him cry out in p*in. One lash down, countless more to go!

After sufficiently painting his back red, the mistress orders her s*ffering sl*ve to turn over, so she can evenly colour each side of him. Treating him like a blank canvas of paper, she paints over his body with vicious red streaks lining his stomach like a red cross walk.

The wicked mistress grows tired of this feeble sl*ve’s squirming around each time she thrashes him with her whip, so she binds his arms over his head, attaching them to the ceiling. Now he is c*mpletely helpless to defend himself from any incoming bl*ws. He closes his eyes in fear as

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