The question of the day, as we near the election, is whether a once-dominant nation, having discovered through its sadistic president the political gratification of ass up/head down, forced squirting, and nipple clamps, can forswear its Naughty Duce fetish and cast its vote for a man who will almost certainly not leather strap it until its bottom bleeds. Are we ready for that?

“I’ve seen all that I can take,” writes Frank Bruni, echoing a growing anti-sex-slavery sentiment in America.

The strongest holdouts against change are women: Lara Trump (violent rallies are “fun”) and Kimberly Guilfoyle (“The best is yet to… you know…”) speak for those Americans who remain mouth-gagged and ready to go. Women know that Trump is the only president they can rely on to call them disgusting and retarded and ugly and fat and weak. Disgusting because they have periods and menopause and plastic surgery. Women are not going to get this treatment from any other president, ever.

The Trump side’s latest campaign song, Do That To Me One More Time, makes an indirect appeal to the pursuit of happiness through increasingly exotic forms of humiliation, such as, say, Japanese rope bondage. There are always new and different ways to be spat at by a presidential strong man – certainly enough to fill up the next four years. And look how many of us crave him! Have you ever had hot wax dripped onto your thighs?

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