Her moment of happiness at the news that she was going to live died away and her body began to tremble in anticipation of the pain that the man was going to bring her. She wanted to say that she was sorry for scratching him, that she would never do it again, that she would obey him in all things, suck his c**k, f**k him, and his friends too if that was what he wanted. She would do anything rather than be whipped. But it was not her choice. Her voice was effectively silenced. And what good would it do anyway? She doubted that the man had an ounce of mercy in his body. But she couldn’t help whining and moaning in fear. Her mind reeled at the impossibility of her circumstances, unimaginable not less than three or four hours ago. Her little dance started all over again. “Oh, God, help me! Help
