Dove writhed as much as her bonds were allowed as the whip struck her, then stilled as he approached her, trembling softly as he examined his work, running his fingers over her reddened flesh, drawing another hiss of pain from the bound courtesan, and a soft, breathy sound as the teasing touch, her glance longing, pleading.<br/><br/>She winced at the next two strikes, though her eyes were wide, her jaw tense as she tried not to scream, knowing he would not be satisfied with merely striking her a few times, however skillfully. Her flawless breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breathing, and she braced herself as best she could.