An Illustrated Story: Abused War Captive

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One soldier stepped forward, uncoiling a length of thick, braided leather from his belt. The whip hissed through the humid air, a deadly promise. The first lash exploded across her shoulders. Pain exploded – white-hot and immediate – stealing her breath. She jerked against the chains, a choked cry escaping her lips. A cheer went up from the ring of soldiers. Her knees buckled, but the chains held her upright. The pain was blinding, white-hot and deep.

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Story to be continued...

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Another soldier stepped forward, younger, eager. "My turn!" he shouted, swinging the strap in a wide, practiced arc. It snapped against her ribs. Camryn cried out, a raw, involuntary sound. The men roared approval. They treated it like sport, jostling for position, placing bets on who could draw the loudest scream or the most blood. "Aim lower!" one yelled. "Make her dance!" The next lash coiled around her thigh, the tip biting deep. Blood welled instantly, trickling down her leg. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to retreat into the fractured sanctuary of her mind. But the pain was relentless, a physical invasion that shattered any mental escape. Each strike was a fresh agony, mapping her skin with fiery welts and weeping cuts. The soldiers' enjoyment was palpable – their shouts, their laughter, the sheer athletic exertion they poured into inflicting torment. It was a grotesque competition fueled by cruelty, each man striving to outperform the last in the artistry of her suffering.

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Story to be continued...