I grow him to about 6 inches tall and strip him down with just my teeth. I enjoy shredding his clothes and spitting them out as he watches in horror. When the once cocky punk is totally humiliated and naked, I hold him tightly in my right hand. With my free hand, I reach into my backpack and bring out what looks like a miniature cat-o'-nine-tails - because that is exactly what it is. I hold it in my left hand which is my dominant hand. Flipping him over so that his feet are exposed, I start to whip at his feet.
It is hilarious. It feels like nothing to me. It is just like swinging a light toy around. But, from the howling coming out of Bill's mouth, I am reminded that it is the real thing and very effective. I admit that I was a little overzelous. I probably could have stopped after about 3 minutes instead of 15 minutes. His tiny feet were all swollen and red. Oops, quite a mess.
I set him down on his feet and pull out a cigar that I light up. He is on the ground crying and trying to hold his punished feet. I tell him, "Ok, run little runt. I'm going to let you go for now. But, when my cigar is done, I am going to hunt you down."
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