After hanging on the cross for hours, college boy Mark is fed, pumped full of electrolytes and allowed a decent night’s rest, not because Jared or the man torturing him from afar have any compassion but because they want him ready for a new round of torture. Mark is bolted in the stockade, standing, completely naked, his muscular, hairless torso exposed and vulnerable. The first blow of the single-tail whip across the top of his pecs feels like a knife cut. And the blows keep coming, dozens of them, beautifully scarring his chest and stomach all the way down to his shaved pubes. Every once in a while Jared adds to the pain by spraying Mark’s fresh wounds with a fine mist of alcohol, then rubbing them with his fingers, before continuing the whipping. Mark seems resigned to his fate – a gorgeous piece of meat with just one purpose, to suffer. Jared’s master could not be more pleased. Next Week: Ripped ballsack.
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