He was a House Master, a butler who oversaw many servants in a big house, he managed the household with an iron fist. Look you can see a thick leather...strop hanging from a hook in the background on the door!"Misty listens with genuine interest and continues studying the photograph, her eyes focussing on the razor strop."Look at the maid with the blonde hair in a bun, seated to his left ... remind you of anyone?" Sir looks up to see her reaction.Misty looks more closely, the resemblance really. ."He paused as an awful thought struck him."Did you refuse him in any way?" he stormed.The girl was really frightened now."No, Master, I would never refuse the Emir his rights. You had sent me to him and so why would I refuse, even if he were not the Emir?" she said, trying to placate him."Don't answer me back," he snapped, "Come," and with that he strode from the room.As she feared, he led her straight to a whipping frame made in a vertical X form with restraints at the ends of the four arms.. More

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