This is for a story I'm writing that hopefully will make a good book, but once again I have a sick little mind.

I put him on his knees
I grabbed my whip
He had to be punished
He had to be whipped

I knew he wouldn’t care
I knew his love wouldn’t stray
I wouldn’t let him throw it in my face
My whip had to be used that day

I wanted to make him scream
I wanted to make him beg
I wanted him to feel true pain
I wanted her dead

He didn’t scream when I whipped her
He didn’t even beg
My whip should have made him beg
God how I wanted her dead

He was supposed to love me
He was supposed to be in my bed
I was the one that should have been in his head
Instead I found him in her bed

I made him watch me whip her
I made him wait for his
I wanted him in my bed
I didn’t want him in her head

His love was sure
His love was strong
I couldn’t stop the image
Of them together in bed

My rage swelled
I whipped him hard and long
I wanted him to scream
God I wanted them both dead

Blood was streaming down his back
I threw him on the floor
I made him watch
As I whipped her some more

Neither of them cracked
Neither of them begged
Neither of them flinched
As I tried to make one of them beg

Their love survived
Their love surpassed
I let them live
With whip scars on their backs