sp3ktr:
"Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather, Whiplash girl child in the dark Comes
in bells, your servant, don't forsake him Strike, dear mistress, and
cure his heart... " crackles out of the bakelite encased radio
surrounded by damp concrete walls, he is on his knees on the sodden
floor, mashing wet pallmall butts into his knees. The terrified grin
erupts into a masque of pure pleasure when he tastes the whip