My divine gift of pain is of course an acquired taste. But I methodically feed it to my pets on a daily basis like a . It takes little time before the pain is all they crave and hope for from their Goddess.

This particular pet has been psychologically modified to the point of begging me for his daily beating. Like clockwork, each and every day, I allow him the pleasure of surrendering his mind, body and soul to the crack of my whip. The whips may vary from day to day, but the effect remains the same.

Today's fix will come from my dreaded Thrasher Whip. This whip is not for...

My divine gift of pain is of course an acquired taste. But I methodically feed it to my pets on a daily basis like a . It takes little time before the pain is all they crave and hope for from their Goddess.

This particular pet has been psychologically modified to the point of begging me for his daily beating. Like clockwork, each and every day, I allow him the pleasure of surrendering his mind, body and soul to the crack of my whip. The whips may vary from day to day, but the effect remains the same.

Today's fix will come from my dreaded Thrasher Whip. This whip is not for the faint of heart, ripping and tearing at the flesh with ease. Because after all, why should I have to work so hard to give my minions pleasure. Dont you agree?

Blow after excruciating blow, my thrasher whip lands across his back, ass and thighs. Slashing and ripping through his flesh, like a hot blade slices through butter. His moans are not those of a slave in agony. They are moans of pleasure. He does not cry out for mercy. He begs for more. Because this is what I have trained him for. He is the masochist to my sadism. He is my pain pet. And I adore his devotion and surrender to my whip.