He's Not Whipped Quotes & Sayings

I glance back at Drew, who is still
eyeing his phone and being awfully quiet. "Seriously, Baylor, I'm about to
confiscate that thing."
He raises a brow at me, and gives me his old, innocent grin - which I am not
falling for. "You really are a mom, aren't you?"
"As I recall, you played the role of Mom. I was Dad."
"Doesn't that mean we're on a date now? And all I get is this lousy dinner?"
Drew leans his arms on the table. "Where are my flowers?"
"I'll make it up to you with sweet talk later. Now answer the question, Battle.
What the hell is up with the phone?"
As if I've activated it, the damn thing lights up, and Drew glances down. He
fights to hide his smile. "What can I say? I'm totally pussy whipped by my wife to
be. That's right, I'm replacing you with Anna. — Kristen Callihan

He absent-mindedly fondled his crotch and then whipped his hand away.No masturbation,he suddenly decided.He tried to think about this but sustained logical thought on one topic was difficult and unnecessary.No,i am not wasting any semen on Madna.It was an impulse,but he felt that he should record it.In the diary under that date,he wrote,'From today no masturbation.Test your will,you bastard'. Then he wondered at his bravado.No masturbation at all?That was impossible. — Upamanyu Chatterjee

Our Heavenly Father does not usually cause us to seek the Savior till He has whipped us clean out of all our confidence; He cannot make us in earnest after Heaven till He has made us feel something of the intolerable tortures of an aching conscience, which is a foretaste of hell. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

I started to grin until I heard laughing and sensed we were on display.
Glancing at them, I tightened my grip on Judd as if to say, "So what? He's mine. Suck it."
Judd though wasn't interested in their laughter. He glared hard at them and literally growled like a dog.
While I giggled at the sound, the men shut up and moved away.
When Vaughn saw this display, he yelled out, "Whipped is a good look on you, brother."
"I'm packing, Outlaw. Don't make me pull it out."
At the same moment, Judd, Vaughn, and I thought of the same thing and started laughing.
"Yeah, don't pull it out here, baby," I said, giggling. "I'm the only one who should be looking at it."
Judd leaned his head back and sighed. "It's not my fault, you know. All of the blood left my brain the minute you sat on my lap."
"Poor bastard," I whispered in his ear as I nibbled on the lobe. — Bijou Hunter

Percy says be talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!"
"Good for him!" Leo yelled back.
"The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron's brothers."
"What does that mean? The Party Ponies?" Leo had never met Chiron's crazy centaur relatives, but he'd heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer-chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream.
"Not sure," Annabeth said. "But I've got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?"
"I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude! — Rick Riordan

This isn't coffee," I accused immediately as the rich smell of chocolate met my nose, making me almost want to groan. Okay, I totally wanted to groan. Just not in front of him. Fine, I absolutely wanted to groan in front of him. But in a private setting with his hands and mouth all over me.

"Figured you needed a pick-me-up."

"You told me you wouldn't give me something like this again. Not even if I begged," I reminded him.

"Well, it's made with water, not full-fat milk and there is only a tiny bit of whipped cream," he said, casual as could be. Which was why I took a sip as he leaned across the counter toward me, not thinking anything of it. Until he went ahead and added in a voice low enough that only the two of us could hear, "And the next time you beg me for something, Maddy, it's gonna be my cock."

I nearly choked to death.

And he just casually walked away, wiping the counter. — Jessica Gadziala

Tack studied him before he remarked, "You think I'm whipped."
Joker made no reply. He wouldn't disrespect a brother like that, especially not Tack.
But he did think that.
Absolutely.
Tack grinned and took a pull from his beer.
After he dropped it, he said reflectively, still grinning. "Maybe I am. Though, the way I am and the woman holds that whip, it's a good thing to be. — Kristen Ashley

We met once when you were a boy, at Midculter.' He paused. 'You are not like your brother.'

'No,' Crawford said. He gave his hand another shake and then loosed it with apparent reluctance. 'Richard will never be whipped at a cart-arse for bawdry. I don't know whether you notice, but he wears nothing but mockado and fustian. The graveyard at Culter is full of pauperized mercers. — Dorothy Dunnett

It was not lust itself he felt, but the premonition of desire, as if the wind that whipped around his cravat were whispering in his ears. /Her. Choose her./ — Courtney Milan

Cox slanted his eyes at him and grinned. "You're makin' me miss Kami," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Shut up," Mick growled. "You're a fuckin' pussy-whipped asshole." "Oh yeah?" Cox threatened. "How about I take your old lady out for a fuckin' ride? You good with that, old man?" Mick lunged and Cox went running. "Who's fuckin' pussy-whipped now, asshat?" Cox laughed over his shoulder. "That would be you, bitch!" "You did not just call me a bitch!" Mick roared, chasing him. "Bitch! I fuckin' did! Bitch! — Madeline Sheehan

Got some more customers for ya," said Camden, taking off his baseball cap to bend the brim, and then putting it back on again.
"Wait, she deals drugs too?" asked Brad. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. Apparently, neither could the student teacher passing by us in the hallway; she whipped her head around to stare suspiciously for a moment before either deciding that we were harmless or deciding to stroll on over to Principal Davis's office in an exceedingly casual manner. — Cherry Cheva

As he vomited, he felt, though did not see, V come over. Forcing his head up, Butch groaned, "Help me ... "
I'm going to, trahyner. Give me your hand." As Butch held his palm up in despair, Vishous whipped off his glove and grabbed on good and hard. V's energy, that beautiful, white light, poured down Butch's arm and ripped through him in a blast, cleansing, renewing.
United by their clasped hands, they became again the two halves, the light and the dark. The Destroyer and the Savior. A whole. — J.R. Ward

The more we drank, the louder we became. The waitstaff didn't seem to mind, but that was probably because it was late and there was only a few others on the far side of the restaurant, and they were almost as drunk as we were. Except Shepley. He was too protective of his car to drink too much while driving, and he loved America more than his car. When she came along, he not only watched his intake, but he also followed every traffic law and used his blinkers.

Whipped. — Jamie McGuire

In slave times the Negro was kept subservient and submissive by the frequency and severity of the scourging, but, with freedom, a new system of intimidation came into vogue; the Negro was not only whipped and scourged; he was killed. — Ida B. Wells

Quote taken from Chapter 1:
"The police should be in it, not us. We're out of here." Bill did an about-face to retrace their route to the door.
Piper whipped out a hand and snagged him by the shirttail. Her tone returned to crisp and decisive. "Slow down, Roadrunner. I'm not ready to leave. We've got work to do."
Incredulous, he stared gape-mouthed at her. "You better explain," he said.
She wiggled her nose. "I'm growing nosier by the second about the circumstances surrounding Anna's murder. — Ed Lynskey

There you have it: our lives in a nutshell. Emphasis on nut.
But if the above whipped your mind into a frenzy, here's something even more interesting: Fang started a blog. Not that he's self-absorbed or trendy or anything. Nope, not him. — James Patterson

The words Lafayette used to describe that triumph - "I did not hesitate to be disagreeable to preserve my independence" - applied to getting his way regarding America as well. Perhaps the most emblematic anecdote foretelling Lafayette's stubborn refusal to give up his American dream was the boyhood story about how one day, one of his Parisian schoolteachers was talking up the virtues of an obedient horse. According to Lafayette, "I described the perfect horse as one which, at the sight of the whip, had the sense to throw his rider to the ground before he could be whipped. — Sarah Vowell

They tried to make me say that I had been with the group of fellows that raped a white woman," Shepherd said. "It was terrible the way I was whipped, there was just knots all over me. They said they were not going to stop whipping me until I said that I was the one. I kept telling them I was in Orlando where I was. Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I said yes." Shepherd said yes, he raped Norma Padgett, and the men dropped their hoses. Yates told Shepherd he could have "saved all the beating" if he had just said yes the first time they asked. — Gilbert King

Whatever," Winslow snorted. "The first team that got judged, from the Italian place on East Thrity-Sixth? They came back in here looking like whipped dogs. Come on, I Know i'm not the only one here about to wet myself."
There was a short pause while they all looked at Win, and the way he was sort of dancing in place.
"Dude," Danny finally said, "Maybe you just need to pee. — Louisa Edwards

You're the best, most understanding boyfriend in the whole wide world." He sighs and returns my hung. "No I'm not," he says, pressing his lips to the side of my head. "I'm the most WHIPPED boyfriend in the whole wide world. — Colleen Hoover

Are you going to rape me at any point or anything?" I just figured it was good to get things out in the open, get myself in the right headspace. He whipped his head around and looked at me like I'd just insulted his grandmother.
"The fuck? No, I'm not." He gave me the squint side-long. "Are you going to rape me? — Domashita Romero

It's very simple: I want his love. I need Christian Grey to love me. This is why I am so reticent about our relationship
because on some basic, fundamental level, I recognize within me a deep-seated compulsion to be loved and cherished. And because of his fifty shades, I am holding myself back. The BDSM is a distraction from the real issue. The sex is amazing, he's wealthy, he's beautiful, but this is all meaningless without his love, and the real heart-fail is that I don't know if he's capable of love. He doesn't even love himself. I recall his self-loathing, her love being the only form he found acceptable. Punished
whipped, beaten, whatever their relationship entailed
he feels undeserving of love. Why does he feel like that? How can he feel like that? His words haunt me: It's very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you're not perfect. I close my eyes, imagining his pain, and I can't begin to comprehend it. — E.L. James

If a slave is unwilling to go with his new master, he is whipped, or locked up in jail, until he consents to go, and promises not to run away during the year. — Harriet Ann Jacobs

Her other paramour was a student at the UASD
one of those City College types who's been in school eleven years and is always five credits shy of a degree. Students today don't mean na; but in Latin America whipped into a frenzy by the fall of Arbenz, by the stoning of Nixon, by the Guerillas of the Sierra Madre, by the endless cynical maneuverings of the Yankee Pig Dogs
in a Latin America already a year and a half into the Decade of Guerilla
a student was something else altogether, an agent for change, a quantum string in the staid Newtonian universe. Such a student was Arquimedes. He also listened to the shortwave, but not for Dodgers scores; what he risked his life for was the news leaking out of Havana, news of the future. Arquemides was, therefore, a student, the son of a Zapatero and a midwife, a tirapiedra and a quemagoma for life. Being a student wasn't a joke, not with Trujillo and Johnny Abbes scooping up everybody following the foiled Cuban Invasion of 1959. — Junot Diaz

As they walked, the subtle lamplight of a dirigible washed over them. Finley glanced up, watching the light grow closer, slowly descending from the sky in a whirl of propellers as the ship made its way into the London air dock just a few miles away. How amazing it must be to float so high, to travel so quickly.
Dandy followed her gaze, but they didn't stop walking. "I was up in one of them flyers once," he told her. "I climbed over the rail and hung on to one of the ropes. Freeing it was. I almost let go."
She whipped her head around to gape at him. "The fall would kill you."
He smiled ever so slightly. "Not afore I flew. Worse ways to go. — Kady Cross

There was nothing, not a thing! about the country that made a man feel Big And Important. If anything it made a man feel dwarfed, and about as important as one of the fish-Indians living down on the clamflats. Important? Why, there was something about the whole blessed country that made a soul feel whipped before he got started. — Ken Kesey

Satan, on the contrary, is thin, ascetic and a fanatical devotee of logic. He reads Machiavelli, Ignatius of Loyola, Marx and Hegel; he is cold and unmerciful to mankind, out of a kind of mathematical mercifulness. He is damned always to do that which is most repugnant to him: to become a slaughterer, in order to abolish slaughtering, to sacrifice lambs so that no more lambs may be slaughtered, to whip people with knouts so that they may learn not to let themselves be whipped, to strip himself of every scruple in the name of a higher scrupulousness, and to challenge the hatred of mankind because of his love for it
an abstract and geometric love. — Arthur Koestler

In all outward aspects he remained patient and mild now, not caring even to speak against heretics; he knew that he was likely to die soon enough, but the prospect of death was not an unwelcome one ( ... ). More retained his hair shirt as he dwelled in his chamber, and is reported to have whipped himself for penitence; he fasted on the appointed days, sang hymns and prayed both day and night. — Peter Ackroyd

And we will move forward to our work, not howling out regrets like slaves whipped to their burdens, but with gratitude for a task worthy of our strength, and thanksgiving to Almighty God that He has marked us as His chosen people, henceforth to lead in the regeneration of the world. — Albert J. Beveridge

V was half way down the hall when he heard a yelp. He hightailed it back, barging through the door. "What? What's ... "
"I'm going bald!"
V whipped back the shower curtain and frowned. "What are you talking about? You've still got your hair ... "
"Not my head! My body, you idiot! I'm going bald!"
Vishous glanced down. Butch's torso and legs were shedding, a rush of dark brown fuzz pooling around the drain.
V started laughing. "Think of it this way. At least you won't have to worry about shaving your back as you get old, true? No manscaping for you."
He was not surprised when a bar of soap came firing at him. — J.R. Ward

Thanks," I muttered and added under my breath, "Douchebag."
He laughed, deep and throaty. "Now that's not very ladylike, Kittycat."
I whipped around. "Don't ever call me that," I snapped.
"It's better than calling someone a douchebag, isn't it?" He pushed out the door. "This has been a stimulating visit. I'll cherish it for a long time to come."
Okay. That was it. "You know, you're right. How wrong of me to call you a douchebag. Because a douchebag is too nice of a word for you," I said, smiling sweetly. "You're a dickhead."
"A dickhead?" he repeated. "How charming."
I flipped him off. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Mira, I'm about to be naked," Blue said as he whipped off his belt and tossed it on the floor. "So watch out. Well, in my underwear."
"I've seen you in your bathing suit," Mira said. "It's the same thing."
"It is not the same thing," Blue said. "When it's accompanied by seventies porn music, it's an X-rated strip show." Blue yanked off his shirt. "Freddie, you're kind of slow on the uptake. Eine kleine porn music, please."
Freddie scrunched his forehead in distaste. "I don't want to plug my guitar in just so I can play some bow-chicka-wow-wow accompaniment to your strip show.
Mira laughed. "Bow-chicka-what was that, Freddie? — Sarah Cross

In the interests of friendship, I hope you'll forgive me what I'm about to do."
"Forgive you wha - "
My sentence was cut off as he clamped his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply.

...

"Ready to make a scene?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"
"Not really. To quote something someone said to me recently, in the interests of friendship, I hope you'll forgive what I'm about to do." I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face. The smack of flesh striking flesh echoed through the hall. Conversations stopped as people whipped around to stare at us. Raising my voice to something just below a shout, I snarled, "You asshole! — Seanan McGuire

Charlie glared at the puppet. "I'm really mad."
"Sure you are. Super mad." Leo circled his head one way and then the other. "I've got an idea."
"What?"
"Tell him how mad you are. Then look really pitiful and ask him to take you Boogie-boarding. If you look pitiful enough, I bet he'll feel so bad that he'll take you."
Charlie wasn't born yesterday. He looked past Leo to the man holding him. "Really! Can we go right now?"
His father set Leo aside and shrugged. "The waves look good. Why not? Get your stuff."
Charlie jumped up, and raced toward the house. His legs pumping. But just as he got to the front step, he stopped and whipped around. "I get to drive!"
"No you don't!" his mother countered, slipping Scamp from her arm.
Charlie stomped inside, and his father laughed. "I love that kid. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

The Dark Stranger nodded in agreement knowing the time had come for the boys to know more, but it would not be tonight. He grabbed Kinsu's arm, nodded again, and then ran off into the night. With Chase and Rhee standing behind Kinsu, whose hair was briefly whipped from the air flying from the Dark Stranger's cape, they understood that they were all alone. They had no clues to a dramatic puzzle which had simply been forced upon them. "Unbelievable," said Kinsu. And they all walked away feeling somber, drained, and still wondering, who was that girl? — K.N. Smith

I imagine that the goddess of Love has come down from Olympus to visit a mortal. So as not to die of cold in this modern world of ours, she wraps her sublime body in great heavy furs and warms her feet on the prostrate body of her lover. I imagine the favorite of this beautiful despot, who is whipped when his mistress grows tired of kissing him, and whose love only grows more intense the more he is trampled underfoot. I shall call the picture Venus in Furs — Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch

The Irish were poor, but not enslaved. He had come here to hack away at the ropes that held American slavery in place. Sometimes it withered him just to keep his mind steady. He was aware that the essence of proper intelligence was the embrace of contradiction. And the recognition of complexity was to be balanced against the need for simplicity. He was still a slave. Fugitive. If he returned to Boston he could be kidnapped at any time, taken south, strapped to a tree, whipped. His owners. They would make a spectacle of his fame. They had tried to silence him for many years already. No longer. He had been given a chance to speak out against what had held him in chains. And he would continue to do so until the links lay in pieces at his feet. — Colum McCann

It isn't easy being on the outside," I admitted. "Judd and I were tight. We spent a shitload of time together. Not talking or having feelings, but I had someone to sit next to me and drink beer with. We played pool every night and had sex with different chicks every night and woke up alone every morning. We were the same. Now, he's whipped and Tawny walks around with his balls in her purse. I asked once if we could take his balls out occasionally and let them breathe, but she just laughed. Tawny's sneaky that way. — Bijou Hunter

It will be easier, my lord, if you will sit, as even your collar is above my eye level." "Very well." He dragged a stool to the center of the room and sat his lordly arse upon it. "And since you don't want to have stray hairs on that lovely white linen," Anna went on, "I would dispense with the shirt, were I you." "Always happy to dispense with clothing at the request of a woman." The earl whipped his shirt over his head. "Do you want your hair cut, my lord?" Anna tested the sharpness of the scissor blades against her thumb. "Or perhaps not?" "Cut," his lordship replied, giving her a slow perusal. "I gather from your vexed expression there is something for which I must apologize. I confess to a mood both distracted and resentful." "When somebody does you a decent turn," she said as she began to comb out his damp hair, "you do not respond with sarcasm and innuendo, my lord. — Grace Burrowes

As she observed him, she briefly frowned, it was one of the quandaries a woman sometimes faces, not just a woman, but all of us: she entrances one man without effort, a man who is undesired, who follows her around like a dog, however much he is whipped or abused, while all her efforts to attract and then ensnare another man, the truly desired man, come to naught. Charm is not universal, desire is too often unreciprocated, it gathers and pools in the wrong places, slowly becoming toxic. — Katie Kitamura

It's only a matter of discovering the lever. If you learn how to rule one single man's soul, you can get the rest of mankind. It's the soul, Peter, the soul. Not whips or swords or fire or guns. That's why the Caesars, the Attilas, the Napoleons were fools and did not last. We will. The soul, Peter, is that which can't be ruled. It must be broken. Drive a wedge in, get your fingers on it
and the man is yours. You won't need a whip
he'll bring it to you and ask to be whipped. Set him in reverse
and his own mechanism will do your work for you. Use him against himself. — Ayn Rand

Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," Ty muttered as they walked to their gate. "I don't talk when I fly. I sleep. And I don't listen when I eat, understand? I don't wanna be buddies. I don't wanna chat," he said with a sarcastic lilt to the word. "I don't wanna know about your childhood or how your momma whipped you with a rubber glove or how much therapy you had to go through 'cause you flunked out of preschool. I don't wanna hear about how you want to be Director someday or how many collars you got chasin' those Internet freaks or how proud you are of your bowel movements. I don't wanna go shopping at Barney's with you, and I'm not gonna help you pick out your ties to match your socks and, I swear to God, if you get me shot, I'll kill you. — Abigail Roux

I can smell you, Ms. Lane," he said, even more softly. "The only blood on you is from your veins, not your womb."
My head whipped to the left and I stared at him. Ok, that was one of the more disturbing things he'd ever said to me. — Karen Marie Moning

She was at a club. I fucked her. She wouldn't go away. Then she died. Story over." "God, you're obnoxious. You married the woman. There has to be more." What the hell was he missing? "I'm not joining your pussy-whipped men's therapy group, Sean." Sean shot him the finger. "It's called a poker club, asshole, and we wouldn't have you. — Lexi Blake

I went out at the window, and I carried the sash along with me. I did not need the sash, but it was handier to take it than it was to leave it, and so I took it. - I was not scared, but I was considerably agitated. When I reached home, they whipped me, but I enjoyed it. It seemed perfectly delightful. That man had been stabbed near the office that afternoon, and they carried him in there to doctor him, but he only lived an hour. I have slept in the same room with him often since then - in my dreams. — Mark Twain

Chace shook his head, not at odds with how he felt about Tatum Jackson and Tyrell Walker, two of the biggest badasses he knew, demonstrating signs they were pussy whipped and didn't give a shit. — Kristen Ashley

She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends," I said automatically.
"Shut up. You're so whipped I should buy you a saddle." Which he would've said about any girl I talked to, talked about, or even looked at in the hall.
"She's not. Nothing's happened. We just hang out."
"You're so full of crap, you could pass for a toilet. You like her, Wate. Admit it." Link wasn't big on subtleties, and I don't think he could imagine hanging out with a girl for any reason other than maybe she played lead guitar, except for the obvious ones. — Kami Garcia

The louder she screamed, the harder he whipped; and where the blood ran fastest, there he whipped longest. He would whip her to make her scream, and whip her to make her hush; and not until overcome by fatigue, would he cease to swing the blood-clotted cowskin. I remember the first time I ever witnessed this horrible exhibition. I was quite a child, but I well remember it. I never shall forget it whilst I remember anything. It was the first of a long series of outrages, of which I was doomed to be a witness and a participant. It struck me with awful force. It was the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery, through which I was about to pass. — Frederick Douglass

Here's where things get hazy. John claims that the men hauling him away from the scene were escorted by other men carrying submachine guns, though when pressed, he admitted that they may have been flashlights. Either way, John says the men threw him down and intended to execute him, at which point he kicked one of the men in the face and backflipped to his feet. He then wrestled away the man's gun and "dick-whipped" him with it. I am unclear as to whether or not this means he struck the man in the groin or merely slapped him in the same manner in which he would slap a person with his dick. I never ask John to clarify such things. Anyway, he said he swung again and slammed another man's skull with the gun, so hard it "made the batteries fly out. — David Wong

Moments after the waitress left us, Tommy whipped out both copies of our chosen play and handed me mine. "All right," he said. "Now we do scene." "Wait," I said. "Now?" Tommy was unperturbed. "So what? Yes. We do it now." I looked around. All the tables around us were full. "Shouldn't we eat first?" "What? Are you not dedicated actor? Rehearsal is very important." Tommy was already demonstrating a lot of promise in knowing how to embarrass the shit out of me. — Greg Sestero

You're not going to stay for the thing?" He took a bite of manicotti. "There's nothing you could do, say, nothing you could possibly offer - including deviant sexual favors - that would induce me to be within a hundred yards of that baby shower." "Crap." She forked up a nice chunk of meatball. "Not even if I combined chocolate sauce with the outfit?" "Not even." "There could be whipped cream. And choreography." "An — J.D. Robb

She loved the way the wind whipped their kilts about. She caught a gorgeous shot of Grant's very toned, hot ass. That would teach him to go without any briefs on a windy day! Maybe he thought she would be so shocked to see him naked beneath the kilt that she'd run off.
Not her. — Terry Spear

Because I was good at inventing stories, and long long long ago I'd told Ty that a witch named the Bathroom Lady lived in the sewer system and slurped up tasty children through the pipes. I made the story good, too, giving the Bathroom Lady rubbery lips and grasping claws as blue and cold as ice. Whoops. I rapped on the door of the bathroom, then twisted the knob and barged in. Ty was squatting fully dressed by the tub. Not in the tub, but by the tub, just staring at the drain. He whipped his head around at the sound of my arrival. Ty, — Lauren Myracle