What is it with men and whips/crops?
Halloween night, I was smoking a cigarette with a friend of a friend, on the sidewalk, watching the denizens of the lower east side walking by in costume. I commented on the whip-wielding technique of a passing dominatrix (I've taken a few whip classes, which I think now entitles me to provide knowledgeable criticism).
With surprise and not a little hope, I was asked, "Are you a professional?"
It took me a couple heartbeats to understand what he meant. "Er, no.." I then had to explain that my whipping experience was not of the black leather/lingerie clad variety, but rather of the smelling-of-horse and usually covered in dust and/or mud kind.
Far less sexy. In fact, not sexy at all.
I find this interesting. I have never been titillated by instruments of pain. But then, I find myself more excited these days by color laser printers. 'Cause Kinko's now OWNS my ass.
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