Continued from . Mistress Ezada Sinn and I are getting frustrated with our slave's inability to take all the strokes we want to inflict on his flesh. Our lashes become more insistent, each strike bringing up angry red welts to his skin. He begs for us to stop, but we're not inclined to quit our little game. We tell him that if he can just take a few more, we'll take him down. But just how many more? That remains to be seen.. When we do finally allow him to fall to his hands and knees in tears, he must grovel at our heels.