re! Oh! Oh!! will you never have pity, and believe me sorry for my faults?" I screamed or moaned, and gasped out the words in intense agony.
"So you begin to repent a little under the lash, do you, Lucille, are you really sorry for having wronged Lord Ellington, is it your mind or your cunt that is most filled with remorse? How you seem to writhe, and how prettily we are making it look for you, the trickling blood is delightful to see as it flows in drops and rills over your back and belly!" His questions were spoken slowly as he seemed to enjoy the pleasure of my intense suffering, and two or three of his cuts were over the tender surface of my belly or right across the navel.
"Scream away, you sensual woman, why don't you implore the Holy Virgin to have pity and forgive you, we are only carrying out her commands, are we not Father Francisco?" hissed out old Anthony, as he continued to scourge my back and sides, and
