Got to think of something silly to write before bed

So the whip is raised and dropped, not a proper lash, just a warning, the leather straps licking my back without breaking the skin. I'm cool with that. I'm trying as bloody hard as I can though. The little display, the tiny pantomime, is probably for the benefit of her boss as much as my motivation. I start keying the typewriter, a heavy old bastard of a thing that needs a lever or metal hands to get each key down, me with most of my weight behind each keypress so I dance like a fool in my seat. It recalls a friend of my mothers as a child saying something about that kid having goddamn worms. So I type for a few minutes. And this is what you get.