Speed is the essence of whipping. When I lash back and forth, I double the tempo on the man’s skin. Swinging overhead in a circle, making repeated contact with the flesh, is another of my techniques; it pours a non-stop barrage onto the slave, pain without letup, as he struggles to catch his breath. Switching delivery gives me more power for several brutal lashes, followed by the circling motion for another high-velocity volley.
I brandish the whip overhead, grasp the tip with one hand, pull the handle as hard as I can and then let go. The leather explodes off the slaves back, and he cries out with the shock. I step around front and soothe his cheek, telling him not to cry out like that, then turn the caress into a hard slap, before I go around back and batter him even harder. And then I switch to the ultra-heavy bullwhip!
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