Now I brought the whip down on her breasts, and her screams rose in volume and pitch. As the leather cracked across her soft skin she began mingling offers in with her invective, and as the network of stripes grew on her chest the number and variety of open offers became quite impressive. But I still hadn’t heard from this proud lady the things I wanted to hear, and as hot as her screams of agony and offers of ecstasy where making me, she was going to say them before the torture stopped.
I considered telling her what she could say – it seemed as if her pleas of “I’ll do anything you want” and “What is it you want ? Tell me what you want ?” were soliciting such input – but decided that would spoil the purity of the moment. “I’LL BE YOUR SLAVE – AHHHHH – I’LL BE SUCH A GOOD SLAVE – OWWWWW – I’LL BE YOUR SLAVE FOREVER – EEEEYY – AAAH – OWWWOOHH – EGH-GGH – I’LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, MASTER, OH PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO – OHHHRRRRGGH – OH PLEASE MERCY PLEASE – EEYOOOW – YOU’RE KILLING ME, I CAN’T STAND IT PLEASE HAVE MERCY – AAAAAA – FUCK SUCK TOILET WHATEVER, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT OF ME, PLEASE – OWWWW – PLEASE – PLEASE – I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT ME DEAD, I’M NO USE TO YOU DEAD – EEECHHH – YOU’RE KILLING ME – OH GOD – OOOWWWW – GODDAMMIT WHAT DO YOU WANT YOU BASTARD JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT – YES YES YES – SHIT! – AAAHH – PLEASE MASTER I’M SORRY PLEASE I’M SO SORRY”.
At that I knelt beside the sobbing woman. Her face was bright red beneath the tears and in places mucus that covered her face, much of her body was flushed and most of it crisscrossed with flaming welts, she was bathed in sweat all over, and that part of her dripping hair that wasn’t plastered to her head was covered with the sand and dirt that had stuck to it as she flailed her head about in the dirt. She was quite beautiful. I lifted her head up and looked through the veil of tears into her eyes and saw, for now at least, no defiance. “You see, Patricia, dear slave, you should have remembered your manners”, I told her, “you just had to say you were sorry”. When I gently lowered her head she was unconscious.
It would be many hours before she awoke. I had cleaned her up as much as conditions permitted and carried her into the tent.
Under normal conditions I wouldn’t have taken the risk of fastening that woman’s wrists in front of her, but since her back
was less damaged that her front or sides, suffering only from some scrapes that resulted from her twisting and writhing, she could rest better on her back, if her hands were in front. The nylon handcuffs that I’d placed on her were not themselves a weapon the way the steel one’s would have been. Her ankles were chained together and I didn’t think even she was much of a threat to hop up from behind and brain me.
I had no illusions that her willfulness and defiance had ceased permanently. I wasn’t even certain that she wouldn’t be ready to bite my head off when she woke up. But it had been a sweet moment when her resistance stopped, a moment to be remembered and enough in itself to make the whole scene a success. This was of course conditional upon Patricia not killing me before we got out of here.
I was thinking that even if she did it would almost have been worth it – then realized what pure bullshit that was. Shit, I thought, I’ve been out in the sun too long while my slave sleeps in the tent. This was not a part of the plan. Well, however she’s feeling when she gets up, I thought, and whatever happens before we get out of here, I have some more plans for her and she’s not going to escape them. I set about preparing for the execution of those plans whenever she awoke. She would need her strength.
