"I get to use the whip, right?" Shari begged, eyes gleaming, having torn open the box from the costume shop with such eagerness that bits of tissue paper now lay strewn across the room.
"This was all your idea," Chris shrugged, trying to distance himself from his wife's excitement. "So you choose who gets the whip." He was sure she would have gotten her way eventually anyway.
The whip unfurled gracefully in her hand as she drew it from the box and was, at it's full length, over 8 feet of curled leather. She gave it an experimental wave and, amazingly, got a perfect, ringing snap out of it. She gave a little gleeful dance.
"And now for the slave," she smiled, brandishing the leather collar and advancing on Chris.
"Y'know, on second thoughts, maybe I'm not 100% cool with thiiiiiii-" *THUD* With an expert flick of Shari's hand, the whip had lashed out, wrapped itself tightly around both of his legs, and then pulled taut, dragging his legs out of from under him and bringing him crashing onto his back on the floor.
"You can be the master next time," she promised, sitting on his chest and tightening the leather band around his throat before he had another chance to object.
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