"Three." Pietro struck the left cheek.
I was feeling every blow as a lightning strike that would never end until eternity. I wailed my heart out, desperately pulling and grabbing at the chains.
"Stop." The survival part of my brain pleaded.
I couldn't throw my hands out to block the blows. Neither could I run away. All I had was my mouth to let out pitiful, weak, useless pleas that would do nothing but fall on deaf ears.
Another crack across the left cheek. "Eight."
"Stop, stop, stop." My voice rose higher and higher until it became nothing but a helpless squeak.
I was sobbing, gulping for air. When he struck my ass again, I thought I was going to die. "Ten strikes done..." he said.
Oh God, fifteen more to go. I can’t survive this. "Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m really, re
