Sarela yelped in pain as her neck was wrenched back and forth by the slaps, but she couldn't help but feel proud as he gave up.  She dropped to the floor, sore but unbowed, his foul saliva on her chest and his sickly lube coating her thighs.  "What?"  She taunted.  "Am I too much woman for you?"  She was immensely proud that she had resisted, that she had beaten him.