Tygra

2 years later:

"Two years and you still haven't learned obedience, Tygra," Frances stood over her, his face set. "We'll just have to do something about that," Frances said, turning towards the door, and calling for the guards who waited on his orders. "Chain her to the wall," he said, his voice thick with anticipation. "I think a whipping might teach our dear Tygra a little more humility."

Walking forward, the two guards grabbed Tygra by the arms, almost pulling them out of the sockets, and dragged her towards the chains, which hung on one wall, dark and ominous. Clasping her wrists and ankles into metal cuffs, one guard slapped her on the ass, propelling her forward against the cold stone wall. "She is secure, Master," he intoned, kneeling before Frances with his face pressed firmly to the floor in a show of subservience. Frances smiled slowly, "Now you may go. It's time to teach Tygra here who the Master is and who the," he paused over the word, savoring it, his tongue flicking lightly over his fleshy lips, "slave is." He was barely able to contain his excitement until the guards had left the room, and as soon as the door shut behind them he walked over to the nearby table and picked up the whip which lay there. He flicked his wrist casually, causing the whip to unravel to its full length. Behind him, Tygra cringed at the sharp crack. " Tygra, Tygra," he said with mock sincerity. "I don't have to do this, you know. Just call me Master and I'll have the guards come back and unchain you."

"I'd rather die," she spat out with absolute certainty.

He had obviously been counting on her reaction or he would never have made the offer. "Well my dear, I can promise that when I'm through with you, you'll wish you were dead," he said and flicked his wrist, sending the whip cracking down over Tygra's bare back.

Tygra bit her lip until it bled to hold in her cries of pain, damned if she'd give him the pleasure of hearing how much it hurt. But as the whip sliced across her back again and again, to the counterpoint of Frances' grunts of enjoyment, her pain overcame her willpower. Screwing up her eyes, she yelled with all her might, the physical release easing the agony momentarily. However, as the whip dug its way into her skin, creating angry welts, her strength left her and her voice fell to a whimper. Her body sagged against the fetters as the indescribable pain racked her body. Twenty lashes later, her body bruised and beaten, the whipping suddenly stopped.

"Now, Tygra," Frances panted, his exertion and the pleasure he gained from it both taking their toll. "Call me Master or, so help me, I will beat you until you're an inch from death." Defeated finally and dizzy from the pain, Tygra opened her cracked and bleeding lips and whispered the one word which would save her, her voice filled with hatred and self-loathing at her own weakness, "Master." Frances smiled in satisfaction, "Good. That wasn't so difficult after all, was it? Guards! Come back in here and unchain her." The two guards entered the room again and crossed over to her. They pulled roughly at the chains, ignoring her cries of pain. Tygra searched their eyes for some hint of compassion but found only blank obedience and oblivion. "Master, what do you wish us to do with her now?" one guard asked, his eyes lowered in deference. Frances thought for a moment, his gaze taking in her wretched appearance. "Take her to the pit so the other slaves can make her presentable. My brother is coming home tonight. She is expected to dance for him. We can't have her looking like that, now can we?" "Of course not, Master." As the guards passed through the door with their captive, tears fell silently down Tygra's face. She continued to weep softly as they dragged her inexorably to the dark and distant slave-pit.

[To be continued...]