Pulling you forward to the raised platform as you start to crawl up on to the platform I kick you hard in the gut, lifting you off the ground and sending you sprawling on the hard wooden floor of the stage. Unable to breath you curl into a fetal ball, laying on your side, gasping, mouth open, eyes wide, hands clutched over you belly.

I nod to the two burly men waiting at the side of the stage. They move forward, lift you and in moments you find yourself hung by the wrists, your arms spread wide. You ankles chained to rings in the floor spread as wide as your arms. suspended inches above the ground, the chains pull you taut, stretching your joints painfully. In this position, you are fully exposed, unable to move or to protect yourself.

I have had you hung facing the audience so that you can see everyones reaction as I give you what you have begged for. I move to the wall and select perhaps the most feared implement in my arsenal of pain inflicting tools. The 12 foot kangaroo leather signal whip. It is supple and soft. The end terminates in a 2 foot length of rawhide. I swirl the whip around my head then with one quick movement I bring my arm down. The end of the whip cracks in the air like a gun going off. Some in the audience jump at the sound.

You know that properly wielded that whip can cut to the bone. You know that it can strip lengths of flesh from its victim like a sharp knife. You also know that it can be used to inflict the most excuciating pain than can be made to last for hours. Your eyes wide with fear, you shake your head violently screaming "NO. . . .NO. . . PLEASE NO!!!!"

I simply smile, whirl the whip around my head and sweep my arm toward you. Expertly the very tip of the whip reaches its fastest speed just at it find the soft flesh of your breast. The whip cracks as it lays across your breast. In its wake a nastly welt with a bright spot of blood at one end where the tip of the rawhide literally punched a whole in your flesh. The entire length of the welt slowly begins to ooze blood.

The pain that flashes across your breast is almost intolerable. If you were standing you would collapse because your knees would have buckled. You head flys back and out of your mouth comes a scream of pure agony.

Over and over I whirl the whip. Again and Again it cracks and leaves its mark on your body. I work methodically, not leaving an inch of you spared. I work slowly, giving you time to partially recover between each stroke. Intent on keeping you conscious for the whole ordeal, I am careful never to push you to the point of passing out. The whipping continues for several hours. The intensity is too much for many of the spectators. They leave, some after becoming ill. Those that stay have a deep gleam in their eyes as they watch you suffer intently.

Your body has turned into a mass of bleeding welts criss crossing ever inch of flesh that can be reached by the whip. Nothing has been overlooked or forgotten. Even your armpits and the soles of your feet are treated to a taste of the leather. At one point, your breasts are pulled upward by the nipped to expose the underside so that area two gets its share of the pain.

It is agony. Unparalleled agony. The pain expertly applied so that you feel every stroke, every cut, every lash. Timed so that you cannot recover, the pain piles on pain. You cannot escape into unconsiousness.

Finally, the whipping ends. I walk around you and look at my handiwork. I nod to the two men who approach you. Then you notice that they aren't coming to take you down, each carried a plastic bucket filled to the brim with water. You are confused and your eyes show it.

I stop in front of you. Now my dear, we need to make sure that those welts are properly treated. One of the best treatments is salt water. So I have the men bring a little sea water in to treat you with.

I nod and them men step up and begin to pour the briny water over you slowly. The salt water finds the exposed nerves in each of the welts and it is like pouring acid on them. Your entire body begins to burn, Every inch of your flesh feels as if flames were searing the flesh.

All you can see is me, leaning against the post, arms crossed with a satisfied smile on my face, watching you suffer.