MATED TO THREE, DESPISED BY ALL.
The sound of leather striking skin echoed like thunder, each blow ripping through me, shattering me anew.
Second, third, fourth stroke.
My vision blurred. I clamped my jaw shut to hold the scream inside, and failed.
Fifth, Sixth.
Every strike sent a fresh wave of agony tearing through my spine, spreading through my limbs like poison.
Seventh, eighth, ninth.
My fingers curled helplessly against the wood beneath me. My head rolled to the side, my tears pooling and dripping down the table. My lungs refused to draw breath for a beat.
At last, Caleb exhaled, satisfied. He tossed the whip from one hand to the other before turning away. Without a word, he handed it to Cypril.