Slaves Shall Serve: There Is No Safe Word

It wasn’t long before the contents of his mysterious trunk were revealed to her. It was true, they were props, and some of them might even have been used in the circus. Whips and crops, handcuffs, gags and blindfolds. He applied each of them to her liberally and with sadistic abandon. She took to each of them and craved more. This was the other side of Salero, the one he hid, the dark side. Publically, the man loved and craved the laughter and applause of children. He delighted in playing his character for them and ate up the love that they gave him. He mugged for them. He danced and pranced around the ring, getting them to clap along with him as he performed his tricks and stunts. His patented pratfalls brought gales of laughter. But as much as he craved the laughter of children, he also craved the cries and screams of women as they submitted to his own particular brand of sadism. He wielded a whip better than any lion tamer in the business. It thrilled him to watch the firm young flesh of a woman writhe and twist in delicious agony as his ropes bit deeply into them and his crops left myriads of latticework markings on their bodies. Their anguish was his delight.

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