The torturer does not stop his lashing.

Melissa can feel that at times the whip grows soft. It is then that she can feel her own blood on her skin. There are moments, however fleeting, when the sting of a previous lash is stronger than a new stroke. It is in these moments that she feels his pity. She deosn't knw that it is mixed with shame. Shame for his lust.

Perhaps it is her prayers. Or perhaps it is God who gives her the strength to prove her innocence to her captors.

The whip suddenly strangles her, closing tight around her neck, over the metal grip, over the wound.

She cries out in a choked voice.

Red Feline has seen such horrors, the public executions, which are common these days. But now she is part of the chaos. She is part of it, a witness to the terrifying trial by pain. And she knows her time is fast approaching.

She senses that Melissa is close to being overcome by pain and exhaustion. She has taken a lot of punishment already and it is not humanly possible to continue resisting.

She heard that nuns flagellate themselves, she guesses that it was nothing like this.

As Red Feline sees the whip eat the nun's flesh, taking away shreds of cloth and skin, she hears her own muffled cries of rage. It makes her angry to see the nun ravaged like that, her naked breasts suffering the lash. She feels The nun's humiliation.

Red Feline had been seen naked a few times, by men, once in a river, as she bathed. But nudity was not a familiar sight to her. Not even during the executions had she seen a naked man or woman. She knows that for the nun it is even harsher. Nuns do not even bathe in the nude. Red Feline understands her ordeal.

For Melissa, her bared breasts are no longer a source of anguish. The agony of her body has taken away her previous shame, a blessing, maybe.

Her breasts are a mass of blood and pain. She can hardly open her eyes, she feels the black shroud of unconsciousness pass over her more than once. She wants to embrace the blackness, as one embraces sleep, at home, safe in bed. Her head feels heavy, leaning forward, the metal grip cutting into her neck, making her breathing more difficult. She weezes through her constricted throat.

The hissing sounds coming from the nun alert the torturer. She is reaching a limit. She has not confessed, not even attempted to plead. His task is reaching an end. He has to stop soon, lest she dies. She cannot be allowed to die. She has to confess or pass the test of pain.

He sees how saliva, mixed with tears and mucus, falls down out of her mouth to her breasts, her eyes are closing, her breathing hisses as she gasps for air.