Chapter Seventeen
The Cane Mutiny
“...treinta y seis...treinta y siete...treinta y ocho...”
Olga Gonzalez invariably counted, swore, and prayed in her native language. However hard she tried, counting the lashes that Shultz gave her always ended with her falling back to Spanish. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight...
She was deep, deep into the forced sub-space by then. El Maestro had spent the time to warm her up. Increased the pace and the force. Building, as he always did, toward a crescendo of pain for her. Olga knew his habits. He would give her fifty lashes, and then he would rest, while she recovered, and prayed. Then he would return and give her fifty more. And perhaps fifty more after that.
Many times, he had been forced to stop earlier, having beaten her unconscious. “The
