The touch she endured; pressure upon pain it was, but light in comparioson to fresh new lines of the switch. All too soon though, the kiss of the freshn clean length of wood returned to her rump, and she did not try to bear it silently. Felicity's eyes watered, and she wept onto the fine brocade of the chair she clung to, knuckles white. Every blow was a new pain, but then it became lines of pain layered atop skin afire, her breath coming quicker, harder as she tried to balance this pain against the terrible things this man's eldest son had done to her.<br/><br/>The flesh rebelled - not merely reddeneing, it was welting under the blows - and abruptly with a frightened cry, imagining she felt the skin split, she bent her elbows and let her knees go to the rug below, sobbing and pleading as she waited for the strikes to hit her impertinent back. "No more! Please, my lord, pain me no further! I am sorry, I c-can't... I can't, it hurts, it HURTS!" She keened, shoulders hunched and head bowed.