For several minutes she stood imprisoned at the whipping post, her bottom throbbing and burning, the semen on her skin growing cold and stiff. Was m**********g on her a gesture of contempt, or a kind of tribute? She preferred to think the latter, that the man had been so aroused by what he had done to her that he had been unable to resist giving himself relief. And it was a way of marking her as his, just as when he had urinated on her.
Between her legs was an ache. Her c**t was so swollen that it hurt if she moved and tried to rub it against the supporting wooden rail. She wondered what sort of a man could do this, a man who didn’t even know her, who treated her as a mere object, an animal, a toy, a mere thing. He had been told to train her and he had. But if he had no regard for her, s
