They say it’s good to be king, or baron, or whatever flavor of nobility you need to be in order to have a fine tunic, a good sword, and a dungeon with fancy whipping ladder. And it’s probably so. But in the days when such things were possible, the after-dark entertainments were sharply limited. What are you gonna do after the candles are lit? Log in to your Myspace and update your profile with the latest list of taxes squeezed out of your peasants? I don’t think so.
Which may explain how yet another bored duke finds himself in the dungeon on yet another Thursday night, horse-whipping the bejabbers out of yet another overworked and underpaid kitchen wench: