Crenshaw took it straight down his oesophagus, just as those sword-swallowers do in the circus, his delicate neck distending visibly as the monstrous organ advanced relentlessly downwards. You shall find me wet enough now. Crenshaw, you shall have to ask bit more civilly than that if it's a good fucking you want. You are no longer my master, and hardly in a position to command. Look at you, splayed before me like a strumpet, a common strumpet shamelessly shewing her wares, plying her trade for a shilling a trick.
Gentlemen always deal in guineas.
The little voice shrieked in pain. He lashed Crenshaw's breasts again, and again the voice shrieked hideously, like a soul being tortured with Hell-fire. The crop lashed out with a short, vicious swish, strumming Crenshaw right across his taut, brick-red nipples. Another unearthly shriek. A choking pause.