Augusta wondered if the “operation” could really be what she feared it to be. Was such a thing possible, a draconian punishment which involved mutilation? She forced the thought from her mind, but the incident left her shaken. Her first thoughts on the beach had been ones of gratitude for her salvation. Now she wondered what sort of place she had come to. Perhaps not the tropical paradise island she had supposed.
The boy brought their food. Augusta could not help sneaking a look at his bottom. The whip had not actually drawn blood, merely raised some heavy red welts that would soon turn to black and purple bruises. But the boy had a chastened look; his c**k had shrunk to almost nothing. She doubted he would be playing with himself any time soon.
While they ate Augusta raised again the qu
