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“Suppose,” said the red-haired girl to the slave, “it was not a switch, but the five-strap Gorean slave whip?”
Ilene closed her eyes.
“Suppose,” said the red-haired girl, “it was not I who disciplined you, but, with such a whip, a male.”
“Yes, Mistress,” wept Ilene, her head down.
“Rejoice,” said the red-haired girl, “that you are only switched, and by a woman.”
“Yes, Mistress,” whispered Ilene, her face stained with tears. The red-haired girl had thrown Ilene´s long dark hair forward, that it not provide any shielding from the switch.
There were now six stripes on her body, from her ankles to the back of her neck. They were slender and red. Each was well placed. Spreading from each stripe there was a redness of pain. She clenched her fists in her bonds. Now her entire back burned scarlet.
The panther girls, in their chains, laughed. They enjoyed seeing the pretty Earth-girl slave beaten.
I nodded to the red-haired girl. Swiftly, across the back, in rapid succession, she delivered four more stinging stripes.
From "Captives of Gor" by John Norman
