Indeed, Genevieve's arms burned.  She was as trained as any athlete, and her muscles could perform far longer than most.  But in the end it was not her place to be the athlete, to outlast.  It was her place to submit, and to endure.  Gravon simply waited until she was undone, until her arms gave the slight tremble that gave her away.  On the one hand they were here to perform, but on the other they were here for a sacred rite.  And to be sacred it must be true, and so he must truly make her submit.  Genevieve knew that to do so he would have to go much further than he would with one of his patrons.<br/><br/>It began though with the burning, the submission.  And then next came the pain.  She couldn't feel him move, his expertise so great, and by the time the whistle of the leather in the air came to her ears the tongs were already biting her flesh.  She did not jerk.  She was expert in her own way, and she held firm and let the leather bite into her soft curve.  The noise made the audience jerk, she could hear that even with her face pressed to the floor.  For a moment all was scattered and then he reined them in, turning the lone crack of violence instead into a rhythm, one side and then the other.  He did not pause or change his tempo, marking her until her flesh rose up an angry red, in a spidery pattern as random as the lay of the tongs with each stroke.<br/><br/>He knew and she knew that the steady crack was in some ways easier than the unexpected violent stroke.  The skin numbed and for a time knew no pain.  But soon he broke past that numbness and instead left her skin raw and tender.  Genevieve began to moan, too low at first for those assembled to hear, but then rising in volume each time leather met red flesh.  Those close enough could see her hands clenched, muscles tightening as she did her best to resist the body's impulse to avoid the expected strike.  Her body, trained as it was, flushed with the signs of arousal to go with the pain, blood rushing not just to the reddened flanks but to her center and nipples as well.  Those who knew the pleasure of the flogger, or the flogging, saw the signs of Namaah's touch.