Barely able to cry out as the whip tore into her back, Kahlil could only gasp in great lungsful of air, her body jerking against the chains, her eyes blinded by the red of pain.  She thought for certain that she would die, that she would be unable to ever lay on her back again after that.  No one had ever laid a hand on her in such a way, else she thought she might have been able to endure it.<br/><br/>Her nails bit into her palms as her hands clenched, drawing blood from her fair skin.  If ever there was something to remove amorous thoughts from her mind, he had certainly found it.