<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Time had seemed to slow, and the torture of the wait was nearly as bad as actually being struck. Nearly. What had he been expected? That Cynus might take him out on the deck and paddle him like a petulant child? He'd never even imagined such uncivilized punishment, except perhaps for the worst sort of criminal. It was a result of this naivety that he didn't consider all the possibilities. Cygnus had made threats, but he still wasn't prepared to face that someone was as vile and sinister as the man wielding not just a simple whip, but rather a device of torture. Altair had to wonder what the weapon's original purpose had been, because he doubted it had been made to punish even the most unruly of slaves. A device for war, perhaps.<br/>
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Altair's body jerked at the next strike, and another scream escaped him. His muscles clenched and coiled, the bindings sliding tighter and tighter as he ignored, and leaned into their pressure.<br/>
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“Ple-”Altair started, his voice cracking and betraying him. He was not trying to be strong anymore, not really. He was simply trying to form words. Anything that would make Cygnus stop. “<i>Please</i>.”<br/>
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Saying more wasn't within his capabilities at the time, and he imagined it would only get worse as the assault went on. The rape seemed so far in the past now that it was inconsequential. Altair realized this was going to change him, much more than just physically, and his hatred burned dimly for Cygnus, partway extinguished by his fear. Still, the thought that the man wanted him to count the strikes out-loud didn't dawn on him. He'd only mentioned it once, and he wasn't being reminded.</span></span>