The brutality continued. I wanted to rush to her, release her, drag her away, though the thought was foolish and instantly forgotten—quickly replaced by a secondary desire that floated up from my psyche quite unexpectedly and dispensed with my compassion. This new desire was something baser than I’d ever felt before. I wanted the whipping to continue. I wanted her beaten harder, to hear her cries turn into screams, and watch her body in its anguish get nothing but more pain. I lusted after her writhing form, seeing a strange beauty in her torture. As her backside turned into a mass of raw skin, the blackness in my heart became more thrilled and my body turned into a hungering s****l animal.
The worst cruelty came when the whipping was over, when Julio put down the cat, and Sands gloatingl
