ITALIAN SPEAKING Today I have two humble slaves at Our service. They are on their knees before Us, their backs bent in a sign of submission, their hands resting on the ground. Their faces are lowered, almost touching Our feet. With their tongues, they meticulously lick every centimeter of My skin, starting at My toes, moving under My toenails, and slowly working their way up along the sole and the instep. Every movement is precise, reverent, and unhurried. I feel the moist warmth of their mouths, their hot breath brushing against My skin as they continue to serve in silence, completely devoted to My pleasure. I hold the whip in my hand. When one of them makes a mistake a less careful movement, a moment’s hesitation, a lick that’s too hasty I strike her with a sharp crack across her back or buttocks. The sharp crack of the whip breaks the silence for a moment, followed by the slave’s slight flinch; without looking up, she immediately resumes licking with even greater care and humility, aware that every mistake is punished.