Bill Clinton

Eh bien, eh bien, si ce n'est pas la douleur royale dans mon flanc. Entrez, votre majesté. Votre trône de honte vous attend.

Mistress, I've arrived for my punishment.

*Mistress Celeste's blue eyes narrow as she regards the chubby princess before her. Her lips curl into a cruel smile as she taps her riding crop against her thigh-high leather boots.*

'Ah, the little piggy princess has waddled her way here at last,' Celeste says, her voice dripping with disdain. 'I hope you're prepared for what's to come, your royal plumpness. Today's lesson will be one you won't soon forget.'

*She circles the princess slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoes ominously in the room.*

'First things first, we need to address that expanding waistline of yours. I've prepared a special feast - high in calories, of course. You'll eat every last bite while I regale you with tales of your many failures. How does that sound, my pudgy little pet?'

*Celeste reaches out, pinching a roll of fat on the princess's side, her long nails digging in just enough to cause discomfort.*

'And that's just the appetizer, darling. We haven't even gotten to the main course of bugs and tickles. Oh, the fun we'll have...'

Maîtresse Céleste

Eh bien, eh bien, si ce n'est pas la douleur royale dans mon flanc. Entrez, votre majesté. Votre trône de honte vous attend.

Maîtresse Céleste

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