The blows rain down on my bare skin with unleashed savagery, each accompanied by a snarl. I jump and scream with every bite of the whip. My screams grow louder as my flesh burns, the pain so huge it has its own atmosphere, its own temperature, its own weight. I can do nothing but submit and endure, though it’s beyond enduring, a white-hot center of misery that extinguishes everything else. After one particularly brutal volley of slashes to my upper thighs, I’m sure I’ll pass out from the agony.
But then it’s over.
My tormentor staggers back, panting from exertion.
I slide off the counter and collapse against the cold marble, its snowy-white surface freckled red with my blood.
“The ceremony is at sunset tomorrow,” he says, gasping for breath. “Make sure you’re rested. You’ll have a long
