Foreword
Darla squirmed helplessly against the agonizing bite of the ropes around her delicate, attractive wrists. The pain throbbed in them horribly, a dull, constant ache that would not let her be.
Her flesh was marked with the last session of discipline she had undergone, and she did not know how she could bear another. In front of her, Michael Horden was dressed in the familiar black robe, the ruby pendant hanging from his neck, winking at her in the glow of the candle light that filled the room.
The others of the Brotherhood were seated in their chairs, whispering with excitement as they gazed on her lush, naked flesh, glistening with the sweat and fear, and increasing excitement that she felt.
She was bound and helpless for their entertainment, a new member to be initiated into their secret society this evening. He would do the required whipping, he would lay the harsh, cruel blows into her flesh.
She moaned, for she could not deny the excitement she was feeling, nor the growing, lovely anticipation of all that she would have to endure. Her young mind tried to rebel against her body's wishes, but it was too weak to resist any longer. As Michael handed the multi-stranded whip to the hooded young man, she groaned aloud once more, a helpless smile across her lips, her lithe, exquisite frame leaning forward to eagerly accept the first blow.