Chapter 3
Everyone gasped as the whip came down across the bare back of the virgin slave.
It landed with a crack, and blood trickled down from the first terrible blow.
This was the kind of a stroke that could knock a girl unconscious, but to the relief of Angelica, and certainly to the relief of the girl on the receiving end of it, the ultimate delivered only that one blow. One was enough.
The young Whipmasters took over with their milder whips from that point on.
Tears streamed down from the face of the virgin girl. The barbs of thorn were digging into her skin and the pain and humiliation of this treatment were incredible.
At the same time, there was great glory in the ritual. It was an honor to be chosen as a virgin for this powerful Master.
The flesh on her body was cracked repeatedly with the whip, for this was the cult of the black whip, and every slavegirl had to pay her respects to the instrument of pain. There was only way to do that.
Two naked slavegirls were led into the room by Whipmasters. They were forced to participate in the ritual taking place between the ultimate Master and the virgin by giving the young virgin some new pain. One girl was assigned to the virgin's right breast, and the other took charge of the left.
They held on to the girl's nipples and pulled, gently at first, but finally they were pulling so hard that the virgin's face turned blue from the agony.
"Know that young women have teats," the Master announced to the congregation. "Do not try and hide the contours of your breasts with brassieres," he warned them. "A woman must know that she has breasts, and the breasts of a woman are there for the pleasure of a man."
The Master held a tiny black whip. This was about thirty times lighter and smaller than the heavy whip he started out with. This was a breast whip, and he used it to flick the girl's breasts to redness.
Angelica watched as the white flesh of the virgin girl's tender breasts was turned red with constant flickings of the breast whip. The nipples were whipped to arousal. When they were good and stiff, the Master worked on the rest of the slave virgin's body.
Each time he stroked her with the delicate whip, she writhed from the sensation. Each flick of the whip was sending sensation directly up the girl's nectar-filled love hole. She moaned and she moved her body in the throes of sexual desire.
Her virgin core was lathering, and the sweet nectar dripped over her smooth, soft, freshly whipped skin. Each time her young body writhed under the will of the lash, the girl felt the thorns of nature digging into her. They pierced her and she cried, but she wanted more and more. She wanted to feel the little whip, and she prayed to herself and to the Master. She prayed that he would never stop.
Angelica wondered about the frenzy of this girl. She didn't understand that the girl had a right to be totally frenzied now. This was her ultimate moment.
How many females get to stretch naked before the punishing whip of a man as powerful and as adored as the head of this bizarre cult? How many have the strength and the willpower to make it through a series of build-up punishments, finally to reach this point of being taken before a cult of worshippers?
Not many. The virgin was one. Other girls in the room had a chance to reach that peak, and the ceremony was designed to encourage them. It showed them what pleasure they might someday reap.
Although she writhed in anguish, it seemed that she was at the height of voluptuous pleasure. This was a peak that few women ever reached. It was as if she had been in a state of prolonged, continuous orgasm since her entrance on the golden tray.
Her naked body was warmed by the candles which formed a seemingly endless pattern of flickers around her. Her body was warmed by the hot breaths of the enraptured throng, and by the pain of the flicking whip.
Her breasts were still being stretched. She was learning to be aware of every part of her body in the way that only pain can make a girl aware.
But the pain was pleasure for her, and that was her power. She was feeling the painful sensations that many women felt at one time or another. But the difference was that this virgin had learned to convert pain into pleasure.
She had been taught to recognize the greatness of the body, as only a woman in pain could understand. She saw that she was able to experience pleasure from the pain, almost as if each cutting stroke of the whip were a caress.
If she were hurt, she would not complain. Instead, she would revel in the wonder of the body. She knew that she had learned everything backwards, as Gweneth had tried to tell Angelica. It was backwards to think that pain was bad. It was opposite of the truth which the virgin was feeling.
And how much better it was to welcome pain, than to fear it.
The ultimate Master addressed the congregation as he whipped his virgin captive, this time using a thin switch.
Swish. Swat! "Notice how she told the gathered slavegirls and Whipmasters." Swish. Swat!
"Notice how she begs for more, even when the strokes leave welts, like this."
Swish. Swat! He smacked her bare bottom hard enough with the thin switch to leave a welt which rose to the surface immediately after he delivered the stroke.
Swish. Swat! He hit her again, only a fraction of an inch from the first angry red weal. Swish. Swat! Again. Swish. Swat! Swish. Swat! Again and again.
"More, Master. Please give me more if it would please you," she begged tearfully.
"She lives for my pleasure," the Master announced. "She is still a virgin, but she is no longer a girl. She is a young woman. Once I give her the man's ultimate gift, she will be a true beauty, a true woman."
Angelica felt a quiver in sex lips. She knew what the Master meant by the man's ultimate gift. She was sure she did.
And although the sensation was sexual which coursed through her when his voice spoke those words which she would never forget, she realized that it was more than sex which motivated her desire. She was aware of the love which the Master bestowed upon his virgin slave.
The love took the form of well-applied pain. To some that might seem perverse. But Angelica realized that they would think it was perverse only because they had been raised with the reversed understanding of the facts of life.
The Master spoke again, still accenting his words with flicks of the switch across the bare bottom of his naked slave virgin.
"No bondage is required for her, except the thorny branches which remind her of the bondage we could inflict if we so desired," he said. Swish. Swat!
She begged him for more. He gave it to her, and he continued his discourse.
"No hands are required to hold her down. She accepts my loving discipline of her own free will. She knows that the more marks I see on her flesh, the more I will give her the ultimate gifts." .
Several of the slavegirls passed out. This was very heavy for them. The sight of it was intense, and the idea that they might soon have to go through such an ordeal of pain frightened the novices and first-level slaves.
That was why they had to progress in stages of training before they would be ready to appreciate what the virgin slave girl was obviously appreciating to the fullest extent.
The Master continued in his education of the group. The girls hung onto each syllable he uttered.
"This girl is appreciating the sensations her young body has to offer. She is feeling them fully, although she has progressed beyond the need for her survival. All of our primitive instincts are rooted in our need to survive. We feel that if we do not have this, or if we are not that, we will not survive as a body."
Angelica listened attentively. It was true that if she didn't have the new dress she so admired in the store window, or if she didn't achieve the grades she wanted, or if a certain boy didn't telephone her when she wanted to hear from him, that she felt she would just die.
It was true that when she came down with an illness, she feared that it would kill her, and when she misbehaved, her survival was at the root of it all.
"You girls must learn that you will survive. You have all survived thus far, haven't you?"
"Yes, Master," many of them replied.
"Look at my beautiful virgin offering herself to me fully now," he said, accenting his words with the whip on her body. "She is enjoying this fully because she has no fears. She has no fears of not surviving as a body, because she is beyond that primitive stage.
"She is a top-level slave, and she responds with her spirit. She knows that the spirit shall survive through many incarnations. And she knows that the place for a virgin girl is at the feet of her strict Master, taking his generous whipping."
"Let me be your whipping post," the girl begged and pleaded. "If it pleases you, whip me with a dozen instruments until you find the one which cuts most."
"No, my child. I have punished you with the whip and switch enough. It is time to move on."
The girls who were holding the virgin by the nipples let go. Everyone stood back and allowed the Whipmasters to raise the girl on the golden tray, until the tray was sitting on top of the ornate altar.
She looked differently than she had when she had first been brought in. Her once flawless body was now covered with red marks which criss-crossed over her in a symphony of pain. v
The ultimate Master was going to give her the ultimate reward for having taken the whip and the switch so well. She had performed for the audience the way a top-notch slavegirl would be expected to behave. She had earned her title. She had earned the gifts of the Master.
"The greatest gift any man gives a woman is the loving intercourse of his powerful rod. My rod is like the lightning rods you all saw streaking through the midnight skies this night. It will hurt the small organ of the young virgin, and when the powerful head of it enters the protected region, breaking it like an eggshell, it will be a symbolic sign of life, just as the egg yolk symbolizes life."
"I know that it will hurt me Master," the virgin announced. "A woman's very nature has always submitted to the pain in that special area which makes her a woman. And from that pain comes joy, as every true woman knows."
"The difference is that you have learned to accept the greatest of gifts, and you shall accept it from the greatest of men."
She wanted it from him. She believed that he was the greatest of men, and indeed it was a magnificent honor to accept what he was about to give her.
The Whipmasters who held candles all around the altar, illuminating it up until now, blew out their candles at the nod of the ultimate Master.
There was only darkness. And then a scream penetrated through the night.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh," she shouted. "Ahhhhhhhh!"
The door to the chapel was suddenly opened, and light from beyond the chapel sprayed into the chapel itself. The second and third-level slaves knew what to do. They took their novices and first-level slaves by the bracelet rings, and led them from the room.
"But there is more to see," Angelica said. She was so aroused that she was wet, and her breath came in gasping pants.
"There is no more to see," Gweneth replied. "It is time for you to return to your room."
Angelica felt cheated. She hadn't even seen the man's enormous tool. She had only seen the light fade away, and then she'd heard the screams.
Now she was told that it was time to return to the room she had been given. She wondered what awaited her there.
"It's not right for a girl of your humble stature to see the ultimate the act of love," Gweneth told Angelica. "Your time shall come, soon enough."
"Soon, I hope," Angelica said, strangely hypnotized to the power.
"Soon enough," Gweneth replied. "Now, wait in your room. One of the Whipmasters will be in to see you. He will give you some discipline. You need some discipline for your soul, don't you?"
"I guess so," Angelica replied.
"Don't let the Whipmaster hear an answer like that. He'll consider it utmost disrespect, and punish you accordingly."
With that, the young Gweneth left the room, and bolted it behind her. There must have been a Whipmaster waiting for her outside the room, because Angelica heard the deep sounds of a male voice. The man outside was talking to Gweneth.
Angelica was unable to make out the words, exactly, but she heard the man talking to Gwen, calling Gweneth by name and evaluating the manner in which she had led the newest novice to slavery. The next thing she heard was screaming, from Gweneth, and there was no sound of whip or belt, or smacking of any kind. Angelica could only imagine what horrible thing was happening to the girl. She felt terrified, and wanted to help Gweneth, but of course, the door was bolted.
Then, after the crying from Gweneth ceased, the smacking started. It sounded as if the Whipmaster was knocking the girl around with his hands.
"Take that, you young bitch," Angelica heard him grunt. There were some sounds, like the hard palm and then the backhand of a strong man slapping a helpless girl back and forth and up against a wall.
"Thank you, Master," Angelica heard a tearful Gweneth say. "I am so grateful to you for this. I am so glad that you care enough to train me for him.
When the door opened, Angelica saw Gweneth standing there with a dreamy smile on her face. She also saw the handprint of the guard, smacked into Gweneth's skin.
Then the door closed on Gweneth, and Angelica was alone with the young Whipmaster.
Angelica didn't know if this was the same Whipmaster she had seen through the peephole, because she hadn't seen very much of him. She had only seen his naked rear and this man was wearing his robe.
But as soon as he entered the room he removed his robe, and he was naked, except for the black belt around his waist. His penis was erect, possibly from the stimulation he received in giving Gweneth her licks.
Angelica looked at the pulsating organ, and to her shock and amazement, she saw that it was tattooed with the same red star!
"What is that red star?" Angelica asked.
"You will learn what it is. Once the star is emblazoned in your flesh, it is there forever. And it marks you as a slave of the black whip."
"Are you a slave of the black whip, too?" Angelica asked, knowing that he had gone through the pain of having the red star imprinted in his flesh.
"Yes, I am a slave to the ultimate Master, but I am a Master to a novice girl such as you."
He demonstrated his power on Angelica. He told her that she had much pain to go through before she was ready to be a slave of the black whip. She would have to learn to love the whip. She would have to kiss the whip, and then feel the whip kissing her bare bottom, over and over again.
He presented the whip to her. He gave it to her in her trembling hands.
"Explore it. Play with it. Run it over your body like a snake. Feel it. Get used to it. Make love to the black whip."
Angelica held the whip against her flesh. She hugged it close to her as if it were a lover. She ran it gently up and down between her breasts.
"It feels like a rattlesnake against my breasts," she whispered.
"Have you ever had a rattlesnake on your body?" he asked her.
"No."
"Then you will receive a lash with a real rattlesnake. Maybe then you'll think twice before you speak untruths," the Whipmaster said.
"But, I ... " she decided not to continue. The Whipmaster had made a statement. It was not to be refuted by a slavegirl. Especially not a slavegirl on her low level of development. She remained silent. She realized that she had said something that was untrue, if taken literally.
"It is for your own good. Do you understand?" the Whipmaster said.
"Yes, I understand. When I speak with the ultimate Master I will have to speak only pure truth."
"Exactly. You understand. You are learning well," the Whipmaster said.
Angelica closed her eyes and let the leather whip explore her body. She felt the sensation of the leather warming up to the heat of her nearly nude body.
The black leather stood out from her white skin and it snaked around the curves of her breasts, of her shoulders, her neck, and on downward.
"Oh," she moaned softly, when the black leather whip caressed her most female realm. It felt like nothing she had ever felt before.
"You have never taken the time to feel the sensations of the whip, or of anything," the Whipmaster told Angelica. "You did when you were an infant. Then you grabbed things and played with them. You put things in your mouth. You explored and experimented with the world around you. But you've grown backwards. That's what the ultimate Master tells us. We grow backwards, forgetting what it is we originally set out to be."
The words entered Angelica's mind as her body luxuriated in the splendor of the whip. She was moaning with passion arousal as the whip touched every private part of her teenaged body. She snaked it over the creamy white curves.
"Where has this whip been all of my life?" she asked. She was enraptured.
"You are only feeling one part of the whip. You are feeling its caress. Just think how wonderful it will be when you feel the whip's kiss," the Whipmaster said.
"Oh, yes, yes. I want the whip to kiss me!" Angelica moaned.
"It will. It will. But you mustn't rush these things. You must get the whip accustomed to your flesh, and you must learn to know the feel of the whip, too. Now it is being gentle to you. Later it will kiss you with passion. Let it get to know you intimately. Then it will warm up to you, and make you its slave."
Slowly, Angelica moved the black whip to her most private region. The tip of the whip tickled her there, and it became damp from her nectar.
"Oh, oh, it's tickling me," she cried. "It's teasing me."
"When it really teases you, you'll know it," the Whipmaster grinned.
"I'm feeling the black whip inside of me. I know that when it's wet, it will hit me harder and better," Angelica said.
"Just don't let it go in too far. You know that you must be a virgin to win the ultimate Master's love, don't you?" the Whipmaster asked.
Angelica didn't answer. She was near orgasm from the tickling sensations.
"You had better learn to answer when you're spoken to, young slavegirl," the Whipmaster told her. "I'm going to have to teach you."
He pulled the whip away from her and she pleaded for it. It was like a narcotic that she had become addicted to. She wanted it. She wanted to make love to the whip.
"You don't get to make love to the whip," the stern, naked Master told her. "The whip gets to make love to you. It will kiss you until you are covered with kisses. Each kiss will leave a mark for you to remember the love session."
He stood back and pushed Angelica to the floor. She was on her knees before him.
"Take your ring, the one in your slave bracelet," he ordered Angelica. "Take it and fasten it into the ring on the floor. Go ahead. You'll see how to do it when you try. The manacle around your wrist will secure you to the floor."
He was making Angelica put herself in bondage. That was really humiliating, or at least it would have been had Angelica not been bitten by the desire to reach the peaks of her natural femininity according to the teachings of the cult of the black whip.
But after discovering this place and learning more about it, she was fascinated. It was much more interesting than high school. And it was probably more interesting than that job at the hospital.
Suddenly it was the most important thing she could think of. It was right for her.
True, many girls would have gotten out of that house the first minute they stepped inside the door, for it only took a minute to discover just how strange this place was.
Most girls, in fact, would never even get to the house. They would never make such turns in the road which 'accidentally' brought them to such a place. The black whip was not for most girls. They would rebel against it. But once a girl came to this house, even if she rebelled, she would soon be brought down under the dominance of the lash.
That was Angelica's fate, and she was not resisting. She was giving in, and making it easy on herself. She was growing fond and desirous of the black whip. She wanted to know it more intimately. She wanted to have it make to her.
"As I told you, you have to be punished," the Whipmaster said, fingering the instrument of pain, and flicking it against the floor every few minutes to hear the cracking noise it made. It sounded like a shotgun going off.
It was a fearsome sound, like the hiss of a jungle cat.
"Yes, Master," Angelica answered. She had been in the house a short time. It was still dark. Dawn hadn't crept in as yet.
But Angelica had already taken several steps down the road to sexual slavery. The first step had been to turn the car onto Lagoon Road. She didn't have a purpose in life. She had no direction. She thought that even when she turned her car down the road that she was making a wrong turn.
But it was hardly to be considered a wrong turn. She brought herself under the influence of the house of dominance, and the cult of the black whip. The aim of the Whipmasters, working for the ultimate Master, was to make Angelica submissive and subservient. Only then could her life have direction. Only then could she be happy.
The Whipmaster told her that she would be punished. But he was not going to punish her for no reason at all. He was sensitive and intelligent. He had been trained by the ultimate Master to carry out the task. He did his work with care, and everything was done for a purpose.
"You kept saying that you wanted to make love to the whip," he told her. "You didn't realize that you were being dominant when you spoke like that. It is never for you to do such a thing. It is for you to be submissive, as a young virgin such as you must be to a man."
"Yes, I understand," she replied obediently. "I understand, Master," she said, quick to add the word Master before she was beaten for omitting it.
"So what am I going to do?" he asked her.
"I'm going to feel the whip. You are going to inflict pain on me with the whip, and my life will be determined by the will of the whip, and by the Masters who wield it."
The Whipmaster smiled and made certain that Angelica had secured herself to the ring in the floor. He saw that when she tugged to one side, she remained held in place by the heavy rings. Since she was down on her knees, she could not get very far. She was his bound slave, and she would have to stay at his feet while he used his whip on her.
"If you take this whipping well, I will give you a special painkiller," he told her.
"But I don't want a painkiller," she said. "I want to feel it all. I don't want to dull my senses. I want to experience them fully."
The Whipmaster was surprised to hear such a mature answer from the naive virgin. She was totally correct, and she had obviously followed what he had told her about the explorations of a baby, and she had seen how she had dulled her senses too often.
"Good. I want you to feel the pain to the fullest," he told her. "But what I had in mind as a painkiller was something else. Sex."
"Sex!" the virgin shuddered. "But we must be virgins in order to service the ultimate Master. I can't let temptation make me lose my maidenhead," she said.
"Good," he repeated, for the girl was really learning well. "But there are other ways of having sex besides taking it to the point of losing your virginity."
"There are?" she asked.
"Yes. And I will show them all to you. But first I must punish you for being so aggressive. You must learn to be submissive at all times. Think about that when you receive these punishment strokes. And don't cry out. This time I don't want to hear your whimpers. I want to watch you grit your teeth and take this punishment as a method to mold your character. You'll be worthy of my special rewards if you do."
"Yes, Master," Angelica said. She was nervous, but she was willing to take it. In fact, if it would make her a better girl, she was anxious to take it. She was eager to resume this love affair with the black whip. She had felt it caress her. Now it would kiss her.
She felt as if she were being watched, although she didn't turn to look at the peephole leading into her room. If other eyes were on her, that was part of the discipline.
"Do you want my hindquarters?" she asked, willing to give her posterior to the Master.
"Not now. Since you are being punished for sexual aggression, and since the sex organs which make you female are all in front, I think I'll punish you on your breasts and nether regions. That will prepare you for the heat of the red star."
The red star! It was glowing on the Whipmaster's erection. It was becoming associated with the sex and pain that were about to come to her.
The whip had been coiled in the Master's hand, and it seemed limp. But with the movement of the master's wrist, it became like an erect organ, and it was ready to do its hurting work. It was ready to teach Angelica about pain, until the borderline between pleasure and pain no longer existed.
The whip cracked against her, like nothing she had ever felt before. It struck her just above her right breast. And then a second stroke came cracking down, even before the first stroke cooled. It cracked her directly on the tip of her nipple. The nipple became swollen immediately, with a combination of pain and desire.
"Already you have come to love the whip, and you haven't even seen all its glories," he told her.
"Yes, I love it, already. That is why I want it to take me. I want it to take me like a dominant lover, and hurt me, making me submit to its power."
He raised his arm back and then he brought the whip cracking down again. This time he went for her left breast, finding the bulls eye of his target in that hurting stroke. The tip of the leather whip, the thonged part, tied into a knot at the end, hit her square on the other nipple, swelling that one up as much as the other.
"It may seem cruel, but my task is a large one. I have to create a submissive girl from a spoiled one."
"I'm not spoiled," she defended.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The Whipmaster gave her three extra hard strokes for talking back.
"The proof that you are spoiled is there in your defense of yourself. I told you that you are spoiled. That's all there is to it."
"I'm sorry, Sir," she said, her head bowed in submission.
"Now you are only beginning to awaken to your haughty, spoiled ways. You have upper-class beauty, but you need correction. You are spoiled. Did you arrive by car?"
"Yes, Sir."
"There! You should have walked. You have gotten away from nature entirely." "But,
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The whip came down three more times in quick succession. The girl shouldn't have started her sentence with the word 'but,' and he told her so with the whip. She should have bowed her head and thanked him for the correction.
The newest strokes landed across her white stomach. Her flesh was especially white and untouched there. The new strokes brought welts to the surface of her stomach. They were deep red welts, very much raised and very painful. She felt that they were really stinging and pulsating down below the surface wounds.
She didn't consider herself a spoiled girl. She rarely cursed her mother, and she had excellent grades. She had even won the traineeship and she was kind to old ladies and animals.
But the man wanted to show her that she was spoiled. If her life didn't revolve around pleasing a man, then she was spoiled.
If anything in this house of discipline seemed even the least bit odd to Angelica, then she was spoiled, by the standards of this cult, at least.
The narrow cots, the bare rooms which were no larger than a closet, the peepholes, the constant disciplining. All of that was for the betterment of character. Luxuries and foolishness would not be tolerated. The Whipmaster spoke to Angelica about that.
"You are here to experience some sacrifice. Everything will not be a bed of roses for you here. You will have to feel the thorns. You look like the type of girl who needs her bubble baths, and her soft music."
"Yes, when I'm home I turn on my stereo as soon as I get in the house. I even do my homework to the background of the music. And when the water system in our home was on the blink, I thought I'd absolutely die without my fresh bath water."
"You'll learn to get over that," he told her. "You'll learn to do without makeup and perfume. You'll learn to accept the basics of life, and you'll appreciate them much more than ever before."
"I want to learn about the things that are everlasting," she sighed.
"This is everlasting," he told her. He gave her pain. He gave it to her where he wanted her to feel it. The evidence of his success in placing the strokes exactly where he wanted them came up in thick red weals.
He wasn't going to let her stop feeling the pain for a moment. He criss-crossed the weals, making patterns to suit his desires. Every stroke disciplined her and trained her. Often he reminded her why he was punishing her.
She was completely under his control. At first each stroke was like a sting of fire and she felt each stroke burning into her. When she looked down, she was horrified to see that the tattered loincloth had been ripped from the whip.
In several places the fierce whip had cut right through the cloth, and the flesh below offered only minor protection.
Soon, however, the individual sensations created by the individual strokes disappeared. All that was left was one throbbing redness which covered her entire body, wherever the whip did its work.
He whipped her time and time again, each stroke landing next to or directly over a previous stroke. One did not exist in separation from the next. Each striking welt blended into the next. She was nothing but an aching mass of pain.
She looked up at the Master. He continued to lash her in a steady, calculated manner. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was not disciplining her with anger. He was disciplining her with love.
True, he was harsh. He was cruel. He was a hard man and not about to be swayed by the pleadings or the tears.
But he was doing this for her own good. And as it happened, he enjoyed his work. He felt it was of benefit for all who would ever come in contact with the girl. She would be so much improved after she went through further stages of development as a slave. She would be obedient. She would be ready to offer herself for the pleasure of men. And she would learn to follow orders. That was a must. He took her up on that particular quality.
"I told you to keep your mouth quiet," he said firmly. His voice was not raised. He didn't have to yell. He got his point across. If there were any doubt, the whip would correct it.
Again, Angelica's first impulse was to defend herself. She was about to say that she had remained as quiet as physically possible.
But a few moans had escaped from her lips. A few whimpering cries had gotten out, and once she had even asked him to stop. That was forbidden, and she realized that even as she said the words.
She saw that she couldn't get away with much from this man, and he was only a junior Whipmaster! But she didn't really want to get away with anything. She wanted to surrender. She didn't want to try and escape punishment. She wanted to feel it all so that she could improve herself.
"I'm sorry, Sir," she sighed, instead. "I was reacting to the pain the way a girl must act when she feels the hardened organ of a man entering her for the first time. I let the cries out involuntarily."
"Don't you know that there is no such thing as involuntary action?" the Whipmaster told her. "The ultimate Master tells us that we are responsible for everything that happens to us. We are the cause of all of those things."
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Sir."
"I'm going to still have to give you more," he told her. "But this time I'll have to gag your mouth so that I'll know that you'll stay quiet."
Angelica lowered her head until it rested between the floor and her Master's feet. She awaited the gag.