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Please stop. I can’t take any more!’ She sighed in relief when she saw Clyde set the cane down. Then, to her utter dismay, she realised that he had not finished, he was merely switching to a flogger. Emma stared at it in disbelief. It had about a dozen long, thin leather tails, each ending in a thick knot. She strained uselessly at the bonds that held her suspended in midair. Perspiration streamed down her body, so open, so exposed, and so vulnerable. She braced herself against the inevitable pain. Clyde aimed the first stroke right across Emma’s breasts. Most of the leather strips found their way directly to her flesh, the knots at their ends stinging her violently, but some tangled with the chain on her nipple clamps, increasing the pressure on her tender tits. Her body stiffened in agony as she screamed for the hundredth time and begged her tormentor to stop. Clyde ignored her pleas, and kept on whipping her. The strands of leather fell on her stomach, her thighs, and again on her. And where it had been him, just a few short hours ago, that had sat before her, bound at hands and feet, it was now her kneeling before him, motionless. Chamara knew that even in a room filled with the horrors of countless horrible deaths, past and present, the man before her was the sight she should fear the most. And yet, as she held the gaze of those unmatched eyes peering down on her she felt there was something more than fear holding her transfixed.Before she could utter a reply, tendrils of water snaked their way from the basin behind him, curling around his form for an instance before darting out, catching her off guard and throwing her back against the door. The force of the current picked her up and held her suspended about a foot above ground with her arms above her head. Before she could fall once more to her knees, the tendrils around her wrists turned solid, keeping her hanging in place. Chamara took a sharp breath. She had expected him to be good, but this speed was ....
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