Stupid. The word rings in my head time and time again. Yet I am incapable of resisting him it seems. Still I try. My pathetic and half-hearted attempt...to resist ends in my wrists being held in his vice like hand.I feel tense and calm at the same time, it confuses me. He radiates control and calm. My mind tells me not to give way and resist, though at this point it seems senseless. Now that my mind clears I resist more. "Hush girl," he states. My resistance does not cease.No grin or scowl is. He began again, odd strokes hitting her legs just below those damaged cheeks almost as if he didn’t want to strike the already painful welts, strangely these odd strokes seemed to hurt her more than strikes on her battered cheeks. Oh, how he was enjoying the game, she was head back now, wailing, screaming, her face flushed, he was suddenly aware he needed to stop, just four more then, crack, crack the leather struck, her wrists red from pulling hard against the hard and rough ropes, spurred on. More

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