My "Images" (a term I stole from Suki) are short ideas, images,
and sketches written for the amusement of and offered as tribute 
to my Liege and Lady.  They were always longer and never so well
crafted as Suki's short masterpieces, and over time, my Images
files began to include various email excerpts and other works
in progress or ideas for works and became more journal than art,
so some juxtapositions may seem odd.

Some of my Images follow.  They are generally cruel and 
nonconsensual and of interest only to sickphuxs, so please 
read no further if such doesn't appeal to you.

The Images are impurely the products of a warped imagination, and
should not be seen as a reflection of the scene, nor should they be 
imitated by anyone not interested in a protracted term as the ward 
of the state.

Steven S. Davis

A fishy Image:

Perhaps you might like taking a man and tying him, face down, to
planks/boards spread between two fixed points over the placid water 
of a lake or pond, close enough to the water that if you didn't wrap
some clothe around his head to support it, he'd have to struggle to
hold his head out of the water (the supporting cloth might also,
if you wished, have the effect of blindfolding and gagging him, and
if it were stretchy enough that you could push down on his head
and put his nose and mouth underwater, that might not be unwelcome).
And then laying atop him, cuddling, kissing and cooing at him to get
him excited.  After having mentioned to him that the fish in this
pond/lake tending to nipple on anything that poked into the water.
So he might want to not let his cock elongate any, as close to
the water as it already is.  But there's only so much a man can 
resist, and for this man, that does not include you, so in time 
- you have  plenty of time, and he's not going anyplace - his cock 
will dip into the water, finding the water's warmth gives no reason 
for withdrawl, and staying in the water as you kiss and stroke him 
and he worriedly waits to be bitten, but after awhile when nothing 
happens he starts thinking that you were playing with his mind.

And then a nip, and another.  And he shrinks fast.  But you laugh
at him squirming under you and work on him much more intently and
he can't help himself again and he's in the water and very scared
and a long couple minutes go by and then a serious of nips and he
shrinks again and you laugh more lustily and with a voice choked
with lust continue to work on him and as you rub yourself against
him he can have no doubt how hot this makes you and unable to help
himself he gets hard again and soon a couple pair of teeth are grabbing 
him and yanking at him as he whimpers in terror and your moan in lust
and this time they won't let him get away as they keep biting at
him and pulling on him and twisting and pulling at him as under you
he struggles futilely against his ropes and you giggle and groan
in delight and huskily whisper to him "careful, love, or you might
shake these boards till they fall into the water" but he can't stop
until after having ridden him and having come atop him and then
rested happily for a while you begin sweetly assuring him that 
they won't tear him apart, they'll just nipple and pull on him
for awhile, and you remark that that doesn't sound bad, before
kissing and licking his bare flesh a few times before biting
him and gnawing at him and worrying him until you've had your
fun with him and then your just lay atop him feeling his 
fear and his struggles, softly murmuring to him and stroking
him and saying he'll be OK, until he's still beneath you for
awhile, and then you untie him and help him off the boards
and lay him on his back and show him his poor cock, all red
and marked but still intact, and then you finger and fondle
his sore cock until he slowly begins to respond despite the
pain and when he hardens enough you start stroking him and
it hurts so bad but it feels so good and eventually he's
nice and hard and firm and all oddly bumpy and you slip
a condom over him - no pond pussy for you, and you're wet
enough already - and tie his shaft and then mount and ride 
him, his cock throbbing within you in more than one way
as he groans under you from the commingled lust and pain
until you come and you collapse onto him and lay atop him
panting as your chests pound at one another until you
both slowly relax and you curl/squirm against him happily,
occasionally batting at his aching but still partly hard
cock and tease him about whether he wants you to make him
come or to just leave his poor hurting cock to recover,
playing gently with his balls as you do and delighting
in his dilemma.

As does, from a demure distance, your confederate who'd
been in the quite safe pond with the two pair of pliers
modified with the short dull teeth.
A few stray thoughts, perhaps interesting or amusing:

 [ After a femdom friend mentioned pain meds making her a
   "floaty no-brainer" ]

I'll see what I can do with the idea of making someone a floaty
no-brainer by putting a mouthpiece in his mouth and waterproof
earpieces in his ears and then wrapping his head in cloth and
laying him on a piece of cloth spread between two boards and
tying him naked in a modified spreadeagle (arms below shoulders 
but held  so they can't move more than a small bit (arms above
shoulders is sexier but can't be sustained for long w/o pain
and in this particular case pain is counterindicated)) with many
pieces of soft wide cloth then and lowering him in 98 F degree 
placid water in a quiet tank and letting him float helplessly
in silence for a few hours before his Lady starts talking to him,
softly and caringly and sexily but also leaving no doubt at all
that he's property with no rights and his purpose is to serve
his owner and what ways he can serve her best, letting his sensory 
deprived and input starved brain seize upon the the verbal programming 
you're giving him and this, along with some of his inclinations
and with how sexily and cunning she's pushing all his buttons
(something he might have been aware of and resistant to when all
his faculties were functioning but hours of floating in soft restraints 
in body-temp water without any input has impaired his resistance
and made him more inclined to eagerly embrace anything he hears
and all the more so the soft sexy voice of his Lady saying in
tones of both unconditional positive regard and absolute certainty
how he is hers and always will be (that unconditional thing again;
nothing about she'll keep him while he's good, rather he's simply
hers and that is the end of the subject) and she'll happily use
him as she wants and he has no choice or even input in the matter
and others things he wants to hear (even if he never dared let himself
feel nor could intellectually accept and has for so very long rejected 
the possibility of such a thing), when he came out of this "womb"
would he be a born again slave, even more receptive, for at least 
a little while, to her training and open to those things his
modern PC and mind has resisted even though his heart wanted them.

And I wonder if getting in the tank with him and making him come
before his rebirth would incline him even more this way (generally
a woman's hands on a man's genitals giving him pleasure does
incline him to think well of her and her ideas and plans, and 
relieving him of some of some of that pesky lust which might
interfere with his thought modification).


The "floater" scenario got me to pondering.  I'm not
sure what I'd actually feel if the following were to
happen, but I think I might like it.  I'd certainly feel
flattered, but whether I'd say "yes, go ahead", or 
"I'm sorry, but please don't waste your time and energy
on me", I don't know.  It being, as it often is, a trust
thing, it's hard to say without there being a real live
actual person to consider.  But it does occur that if,
as is the case, one of my objections to the idea of 
someone wanting to get me into a TPE-ish scenario is that
I do have responsibilities (sick mother, brother who will
always be, in some ways, dependent (of course, he does a
lot more around the house than I ever do, so day to day
I'm arguable much more dependent on him)) and so I can't
surrender totally, well, anyone to whom I would even consider 
making a small degree of such a surrender (hmmm, "small
degree of surrender"... not sure what that is or if it's
possible) is someone who I could trust to respect those
responsibilities and would probably make me do a better 
job at them than I do now.

Be that as it may... if no such responsibilities existed,
and if I were submitting to someone, or more accurately
often submissively bottoming to someone, who said to me:

"I want you to know that I want you, and so I'm going to
do whatever I can to get you under my control and keep
you under it and to make my control more complete.  I've
no intention of playing fair.  I won't hurt anyone else 
and I'll never do anything that would leave you diminished
- don't worry, I won't get an order of that Columbian
zombie drug and keep you in a drug-induced submission,
that'd be diminishing you, and besides, it'd be way too
easy and not enough fun - but those are the only limits.
I'll play with your mind, twist your emotions, use any
sort of conditioning or programming that works on you,
I'll use sex or sexual denial, I'll use shame or praise, 
attention or attention deprivation, isolation or exhibition,
pleasure or pain, anything at all which helps me to get,
keep, and extend my control over you, and I will not
stop, not ever, until I have you to the point where it
would simply be impossible for you to leave me and until
I have you so that to ever do anything other than immediately
obey my orders - and even my unspoken wishes will be an order
to you that you must comply with - will be utterly unthinkable,
and if you ever were to think of it, quite impossible for you
to do.  I'm very patient and I don't care how long it takes,
and I also don't care if I never get you to that end point,
nor how close I ever get you to it.  But I am going to be
striving to control you and to increase my control over you,
and telling you this now is as much "informed consent" as
there's going to be.  I'm not going to be telling you what
I'm doing or saying to you 'see how much control I'm getting,
do you consent to this ?'.  The only ethical restraints I
accept are don't hurt third parties and don't diminish you
as a person.  Other than that, this is not going to be a
fair fight, I'll cheat and do anything to win.  The only
protection you have is that I want you as the man you are
and I won't put that at risk (so no middle of the night 
improvised castrations).  You've been warned, dear.  Now
I'm coming after you".

I think I'd rather like it.  Of course, if she needed 
TPE to occur or even needed to get someplace pretty far 
along the path to TPE to be happy with the relationship,
I'd have to tell her that she should move on, because
I'm not a good candidate.  But if she didn't mind that
she might never get me there or even get me very close,
well, that she's going to lead/push me in that direction
would be acceptable.  And, of course, such intense focus
on me would feed into my desires.


I don't know if this is a local thing, but lawn ornaments
seem to be getting more elaborate.  Among the things
I see on people's lawns are lighthouses (some with actual
lights) and windmills (though I've yet to see one the arms
of which move).  I got to thinking that what someone should
do is setup a windmill that does move and which will generate
electricity to charge a battery which runs the lighthouse

And then, of course, my thoughts went elsewhere....

First to using a windmill to apply electricity to a 
submissive man's testicles (or maybe to a steel sound
in his urethra).   The man tautly spreadeagled under
a hot sun, desperately needing a breeze to make the
heat just a tiny bit more bearable, and yet dreading
the breeze because when it comes that damned windmill
turns and he gets zapped; the more it picks up the
more he gets zapped.

Reason enough for him to dread being staked out on
a hot afternoon knowing that thunderstorms with high
winds are due to sweep through the area (hmm, what
do the safety experts say about laying on the ground
with a stainless steel sound in one's penis during
an electrical storm ?).  As his Lady sits on the
porch with her tea during the rain and happily listens
to his howls competing with the howling wind, her smile,
even if he could see it through the rain beating on his 
face (and washing away his tears), would not, I fear,
be enough to make him want to go through this.

But she'd find some way to get him to go through it.

Another thought was of leaving a woman tied spreadeagle
on a less uncomfortable day (but one warm enough for
her to be safely naked) and hooked up to a windmill
which was powering a vibrator.  On a day when the
breeze was quite intermittent, mild for awhile, then
strong sometimes fro a bit, then dying down only to
pick up again in a few minutes.  Never strong enough
long enough for her to get off, but often enough for
her to start to get aroused, before the wind "softened"
and left her frustrated, perhaps maddened when a
short of strong wind was followed by long periods 
of very gentle breezes which would then die away...
and to start gusting awhile later.

And if perhaps one D&S couple were visiting another,
one of them M/f and the other F/m, perhaps the dominants
would enjoy stripping and spreading their submissives 
and hooking them up to their windmills, and having
a nice picnic lunch enjoying the breezes that were
tormenting their submissives (with, in some variations,
the two doms deciding to enjoy each other after spending
some hours with bread and wine and moaning submissives
in the wilderness, perhaps liking the idea of fucking
as their helpless suffering (and in at least one case,
very horny and frustrated) subs watched.  And if the
male dom happened to be bi, well, the male sub could
be spreadeagled on his stomach so that his Lady could
enjoy offering her guest use of her boy's ass and
enjoy seeing her purely straight boy taking this for
her.  I think, electricity passing through bodies as
it does, that the maledom would want the current turned
off when he was putting his cock (even one sheathed
in rubber) into the boy (not sure if the femdom using
a strapon and an all-rubber large dildo might not be able
to fuck her boy even as he was getting zapped).  But
if this were the case, perhaps the domme might tell
her boy, as the periods of wind were increasing in 
both strength and duration till they were becoming 
unbearable to him, that if he wants the shocks to
stop, he'll have to beg their male guest to fuck
him, since the only time the electric shocks will
stop is when the boy is unhooked so that he can be

If it's bad enough being used by a man, but having
to beg a man to fuck him is just too much, and he
has to spend a lot of time screaming before he can
finally make himself start to ask and then to beg
the maledom to take him, well, perhaps neither of
the dominants will mind this.

"On the Ball"

Or, rather some preliminary ponderings on an Image which 
might have that title if in fact I ever write it.

Strange image, or thoughts on an Image.  Strange for me,
that is, because I don't like fear (as a sub; love it as 
a top) nor humiliation (either way, but especially as a sub;
as a top I'll play with objectification* and sorts of 
display/exhibition/slut-making/degradation-wallowing that 
a particular bottom may enjoy), but somehow this idea started 
playing through my mind.

 * - Which it's occured to me (no great surprise, it's just
     not something I'd thought of in precisely these terms)
     can be about putting the bottom down, but is usually,
     in wiitwd, about building the top up, that is, that what
     it's often about is conspicuous consumption.  It's not
     about the sub being good for nothing else, it's about how
     valuable the sub is and what use the dom is making of him
     or her.  Sort of like how really rich people use rugs on
     the floor that less rich people would hang on the wall.
     It's not, I'd want a woman who isn't allowed to speak and
     has been told to sit kneeling between my legs, facing my 
     crotch and waiting for the order to suck me after I'm done
     watching reruns on TV to understand that by using her as
     a sexual device I'm not minimizing her worth, but am rather
     exalting in using something this valuable in such a cheap
     way.  While obviously all sorts of people have all sorts
     of motivations, I think that's much of the appeal of the 
     human furniture and human statue fetishes; it's not that
     the person is good only for being a footstool, but that such
     an immensely valuable thing is being used as someone's 
     footstool, that's the key to the fetish. ]


Somehow or other my mind went to kicking of balls.  To how
it only interested me when done with some "art" (probably because 
the act doesn't interest me much at all).  How I'd find it sort 
of cheap, for lack of a batter word, if my dom liked kneeing
me in the groin (or the idea of it) quickly and suddenly, but
I could find it a higher class activity if she wanted to
suddenly have me stop as we were walking, and then have me spread
my legs, and then spread them wider (FWIW, for me, this is one
of those situations in which it's sexier if my dom is a lot
shorter than I), and then before kneeing me she wants to step
into me and stroke and kiss and tease me and take numerous
measuring practice kneeings till she's sure she has the range
before she puts me down.  I'd certainly not like the end result 
(me helpless on the floor/ground hoping not to throw up) any better,
and in fact I'd almost certainly be hurting a lot more than I would
if she sauntered up to me happily and quite unexpectedly rammed her
knee into my groin.  But I'd admire the artistry more in the former

This led me to pondering ball kicking, and how she might enjoy
telling me that she'd gotten a pair of pointy-toed shoes just
the better to kick my balls, after tying my balls to have each one
displayed and high-lighted and the better to target with the tip
of the shoe that I'd otherwise like so much but which she was going 
to have me hate (I wonder if some doms would enjoy so conditioning me
that my fondness for high heels turned to dread of them ?).  None
of this safe and careful slapping with the side of the foot for her
(or me), instead she was going to see to it I got the point.

And perhaps after a few time of having me lay on the floor on my
back with my legs spread, she saw, and enjoyed, that I'd flinch
whenever she went to move towards me, which pleased her though she'd
tut-tut me when it happened.  So she makes a point of tying me very
thoroughly and very tautly so I can't move anymore, and perhaps 
taping my cock so it doesn't obscure anything.  Perhaps getting 
a tee like used for football kickoffs to use on me (with some glue 
or tape used for better mounting me; as she'd remark, it's not a 
problem since she doesn't *think* anything is going to go flying off 
the tee anyway), and with many practice kicks as she learned to touch
the tip of her shoe against my ball on longer and longer swings
of her foot, with contact, though always faint, getting harder
and harder and my ball getting sorer and sorer (magnifying the
feel of each tap).

And all these practice steps eroding my nerve.  Presumably she's
heard me make some bravado-laden statement about things I could do once
for her but wouldn't be sure I could do a second time once I knew how
much they hurt, and kicked in the balls was one example.  So she'll
comment on how she's going to be sure to do this right since I might
not be able to let her do it again.  And all the preparations and
measurings and practicing is making me more and more afraid and eating
away my nerve and resolve - just as she means it too, of course.
Because giving me an especially ferocious kick is not her goal,
cracking my nerve is.  She knows that I've talked about trouble
safewording, she knows I've said I *would* do this (maybe without
knowing at the time what she would plan, expecting a more "tradition"
balls-kicking).  And what she's really after is to terrify me so
much that the fear will overcome my pride and vanity and my concern over
losing face will be overwhelmed by concern about losing something else
and I'll find myself screaming "Stop"  (OK, small problem with the 
scenario, it doesn't work very well, at least not as drama (as teaching,
perhaps) if somewhere in the middle of all this I simply say "I'm sorry,
but I can't go through with this"; as drama it needs me to be holding out
desperately till the last moment and wailing out "Stoooppppp !" as she's
on what I take to be a real final approach).  So she's dragging out the
process while I'm thinking "please get on with it and get this over with"
just to wear down my reserves of courage until I run out.  I'd like to
imagine her getting frustrated and maybe even a little flustered as this
goes on without me cracking, cause she has no intention of inflicting
the sort of kick she's been leading me to expect and has to find ways to
keep explaining putting it off.   Perhaps once she's got the kicking 
motion down, she finds that the high heels she's picked don't lend
themselves to a three quick steps approach, and she lets me think that
maybe this won't happen - and then she gets out a pair of ankle boots
with a similar toe but lower and wider heels and better ankle support,
and she can do the approach now, and so *now* I'm in for it, and by
raising and dashing my hopes she's stretched my nerve enough that it 
finally snaps as she's coming at me and I cry out for her to stop.

Which she does, since she can tell by my voice that she's achieved her
goal, she's made me chicken out, made me turn coward, and has in fact
humiliated me.  Which if she's really into fear or really into a very
real sort of humiliation, perhaps she'd enjoy.  

But she'd have an awfully lot of aftercare to do if I was at all
valuable to her, because in the aftermath of such a scene I might
not want to see her and I assuredly would not want her seeing me,
as I'd be much too ashamed to face her anymore.  It might indeed turn
out to be a scene she could only do once, since she wouldn't see
me again afterwards, not because she was too cruel but because I
was too ashamed.

In real life, this scene as described, which may or may not become
an Image someday, probably would not have that effect simply because
the action involved is extreme enough that, at least today (as I get
older I get less vain in some ways) I wouldn't find myself shamed
for backtracking and breaking my prior (though perhaps implied) 
promise.  But I'm sure some scenario can be constructed that would
cause the same emotional effect, that would wear down my courage
until I did something that was cowardly in my eyes and would be
even after I knew she'd been trying to break me that way, and even
after a lot of affection and a lot of reassurance that she didn't
think me cowardly, even that she'd been surprised and almost undone
by how long I'd held out and she'd barely been inventive enough to
outlast me (would she realize that it was all because of how afraid
I was of being a coward rather than being brave and if so would
she be likely to mention that fear of appearing afraid is the worst
sort of fear ?), it'd be really hard for me to face her again after
my shame.

Which, of course, *is* one of the issues here, that this scene didn't
turn out as an empowering exercise in facing fear nor a perhaps even
more empowering exercise in making me humble and/or stripping away
layers of pride/vanity/inhibition/propriety that were keeping me
from doing what I wanted or from enjoying what I was doing, and had 
crossed over into shame, perhaps even a doubly shaming scene of
making me not only lose my nerve but showing me too vain to be sensible
about it (though the latter could fit into "healthy humiliation" in
some scenes).   Possibly something that could be recovered from, with
the proper care and attention from a dom who understood what had happened.
Or more likely an example of one the many sort of things which put
the lie to that Nietzchean BS that what does not destroy us makes us
stronger, there being a lot of people who survived experiences which
left them weakened.

"Pass the Buck"

Good of you to wait for me, boy.

And better of you to wait as per orders, on your
knees outside of a hotel room door with the patches
I gave you over your eyes and your wrists cuffed
behind your back, where you cuffed them after stuffing
a towel in your mouth.  The towel being important
as we wouldn't want anyone going into the room to
think you rude for not speaking.

Of course, some people walking through the hall might
think you rude for kneeling there like that. I trust
that some informed you of what a disgusting pervert 
you are.  Fortunately this hotel is used to disgusting 
perverts.  Not enough, sadly, that I could have made you 
strip naked before kneeling and not have you taken off 
to jail.  But enough not to complain about a man kneeling
in handcuffs.  A woman perhaps, but not a man.

Now, on your feet, love, and into the room.  I wouldn't
want you to miss too much of the party - or for the party 
to miss you for too long.  Good boy.

Now let me get those cuffs off you.  Just while you strip
for the room, love.  Good.  Now back in your cuffs for
now.  This way, slut.

I wanted to get you alone, love.  Not for that.  So I
can remove the eye patches - I thought they'd stick more; drat -
while I show you my new toys.  Some quite delightful
thumbscrews, and made for use on just one thumb.  Which means,
unlike so many thumbscrews, these can easily be used on other
places.  Which is why I bought seven of them.  Now that you've
seen them, I'll put these patches over your eyes.  I don't want 
you seeing anything.

Why, yes, boy, you can take a good look at me first.  Not that 
flattery is going to get you anywhere, love.  Now, back in your
eye patches - there's a reason why I prefer them today over a
normal blindfold - and back to the party.

Come along, boy.  Up on this table.  Spread out.  Would
some of you mind helping me tie him to the table ?  Thank you.
I want him stretched nice and taut.  Don't worry if it hurts
him, we'll be hurting him a lot.

I've got a game I want to play.  First, I'm going to put
these single-digit thumbscrews on each of his thumbs. And
each of his big toes.  And on the head of his cock - you
can't go anywhere boy, put tug on the ropes if you like;
yes, dear, I understand it was an involuntary startle reaction,
can I don't blame you for being scared, this *is* going to
hurt; yep, it did.   And - would you hand me that rope ?; 
thank you - after I tie his balls so they stand out nicely,
on each of his balls. Yes, dear, it hurt, so will this one.
But they will all hurt a lot more.

The game I propose is that we "pass the buck" around my
bound buck of a boy here.  Several of us have agreed to
play and when our numbers are randomly drawn, we'll give
a thumbscrew a turn and then slide the buck to the next
position and whoever's number is drawn gets to turn the
thumbscrew there.  And we'll go round and round, tightening
these thumbscrews on your thumbs and toes and balls and
the head of your cock, until you scream.  Which, conveniently,
I know you don't want to do.  Since your cock and balls 
*are* rather close together, whoever has his or her
- do note the genders, love - number come up when the buck
is there gets, besides the extra fun of hurting you three
time in a row, also the best chance of making you scream.
And of winning you for the rest of the weekend.  Yes, love,
whoever gets you to scream gets to take you home and make
you scream more, or have you do whatever else pleases
him or her.  Make you a toy at a gay party, make you part
of the demo at a dildo party, or just fuck and torture
you till he or she can't go on.  Whatever the winner wants
the winner get.

I'm sure you're pleased to know that several people were
happy to play, both eager to win you, and enjoying the
idea of hurting you even if they don't win.  The fact that
some of them are men may not be quite so pleasing, but
do rest assured some women wanted to play also.

Now, whether I let them, well, that's another question.

This is why I wanted the patches glued over your eyes.
While we'd all enjoy seeing your eyes while you're
tortured, I do *NOT* want you seeing that some femdom
you've long admired is taking her "turn of the screw"
and maybe deciding that this would be a good time to
scream.  Not consciously, perhaps - I'm sure you wouldn't
try to cheat, love - but knowing that you'd like being
the toy of some of the lady guests and would not enjoy 
being the toy of any of the men, well, I figured it'd
be best if you couldn't see who was doing you.

Of course, you can try to guess.  But I'm sure you
know me well enough to know that the perfume you smell,
or the sound of heels clicking you hear, or the hair
dragging across your naked flesh as someone bends across
you to move the buck, even the feel of hands and nails
playing with your body, none of these will necessarily
tell you who's screwing you next or now. But go ahead 
and try to guess if you want to, boy.

Or just accept that your fate is not in your control,
no more than you have any say as to whether or not you
want to be passed around, or whether you want us passing
the buck around you and screwing you till you scream.
It doesn't matter what you want or like, love.  Just 
what I want.  And I want to see you hurt till your
pride is overcome and you have to scream - scream,
love:  gasps, groans, and moans won't do it - and then
see you given away and forced to be a toy without your
consent, and if it happens to be to a man and perhaps 
a man with a lot of cruel and horny male friends, well,
you know I'll like that, and if your scream comes when
you think it's a woman you'd enjoy serving who's got you,
I'd like that even more.   And that's what I'll see happen 
to you tonight, lover.  Well, maybe or maybe not the 
mean gay man winning you when you think it's a femdom
delight making you scream, *that* may or may not happen.
But you will be hurt till you scream and then passed to 
the winner.

Since it's my game, I'll take the first screw, on your 
left thumb.  Yes, that hurt, didn't it. love ?  And that's
number one, there's so much more to come.  Now I pass
the buck, and we see who hurts you next.  Spin that barrel
and pull a number.

Oh, good, I like h__, ah, well, whoever it is, love.
Now, dear, jerking your foot like that will just make it
hurt even more.  Now pass the buck, and let's see who's
number is called next, and who gets to screw you thrice....