There is one whip the slavegirl fears more than any other. It is a Mexican bullwhip of outstanding quality. It is a sign of good taste of her fearing this particularly well-constructed whip. But it is neither the high quality of the leather nor the perfect craftsmanship she fears; it is its superior ability to cause deep pain with even the smallest of movements. When tormented to the limit by her Master using just the wrist to make the whip bite her skin like a hungry piranha, she is horrified where it would take her would he actually swing it. Such a whip deserves respect, kisses and worshipping.

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