ENGLISH SPEAKING I’m standing behind her. My slave is tied in a doggy-style position: knees bent, chest pressed against her knees, wrists bound, and ankles restrained so she can’t close her thighs. Her ass is exposed, taut, ready. I take the whip. The first stroke cuts through the air and lands on her bare flesh. A moan escapes her, but I don’t care. The second stroke leaves a bright red mark. She trembles, her shoulders tense, and I can already see the tears streaming down her cheeks and falling to the floor. They don’t stop me. I continue. Every crack of the whip is deliberate. I strike lower, then higher, tracing parallel lines on the skin that swells and reddens. She’s crying openly now, her sobs interrupted by moans when the whip strikes again. Her words of prayer die in her throat. I don’t respond. I watch her as I punish her. Her body, bound in the sheep position, cannot escape, cannot cover itself. Every tear that runs down her face only confirms that I am doing exactly what I set out to do. The whip continues to fall. Her tears will not stop me.