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Pages 32,33 and 34 in Artuntamed

______________________________________________________________________________________

She stopped.

The flogging stopped.

Even after the crop no longer slashed my flesh I kept writhing and swaying in my chains, my confused mind racing in all directions.
The terror and the pain ruling over me.

I began to perceive my tormentors had retreated a little.

"Stand upright, slave!"

That was Genevieve.

"Slave yes, that's a good way to call her" agreed Sven, the bald man.

"Stand upright if you don't want another serving!" spat the hateful woman.

Like a tamed heifer, like a trained circus animal I summoned what was left of my strength.

Anything. Anything to be spared more of this torture!

My breasts felt like cut in slices.
My belly, my thighs burned.
My buttocks felt like mashed.

My mind? My courage?
Gone with the whip.

"After all" joined the masked man "she is ours to do what we want?"
"Like a slave" continued Sven.

Talk talk. Babble. Brag, I answered silently.
But they were right: At this moment in spite of the disdain, the hatred they inspired me.. I would have done anything they ordered.

And so I stood erect, spread open to let them admire the tracks. The welts.

The artwork Lydia's whip had painted over my naked body.

Description

Story by:

Art by:

FIRST:

Mature Content

PREVIOUS in DA:

Mature Content

NEXT:

Mature Content

Pages 32,33 and 34 in Artuntamed

______________________________________________________________________________________

She stopped.

The flogging stopped.

Even after the crop no longer slashed my flesh I kept writhing and swaying in my chains, my confused mind racing in all directions.
The terror and the pain ruling over me.

I began to perceive my tormentors had retreated a little.

"Stand upright, slave!"

That was Genevieve.

"Slave yes, that's a good way to call her" agreed Sven, the bald man.

"Stand upright if you don't want another serving!" spat the hateful woman.

Like a tamed heifer, like a trained circus animal I summoned what was left of my strength.

Anything. Anything to be spared more of this torture!

My breasts felt like cut in slices.
My belly, my thighs burned.
My buttocks felt like mashed.

My mind? My courage?
Gone with the whip.

"After all" joined the masked man "she is ours to do what we want?"
"Like a slave" continued Sven.

Talk talk. Babble. Brag, I answered silently.
But they were right: At this moment in spite of the disdain, the hatred they inspired me.. I would have done anything they ordered.

And so I stood erect, spread open to let them admire the tracks. The welts.

The artwork Lydia's whip had painted over my naked body.