Her choices.

I was unsure of who's benefit it was for, but after her husbands had arranged themselves, they stood silent and just leered at her, giving both Mrs. Nesbeth a much needed physical respite, and an emotional respite for myself. In that time though, Ian had left his Whip on the table ahead of me, and I took the time to study the implement.

The handle was fairly standard fair, but the fall of the thing was both unnerving, yet somehow less intimidating than what I believe to have been it's predecessor, The Cat O' Nine tails. Where that had thinning cordage topped off with shards of broken glass, this had long, rectangular strips of soft Leather, with nothing at the tip, but more than double the amount of strips, that made it look like Tassels that would be used to tie off some theater Curtains.

Anthony stepped forwards and removed the rod from Mrs. Nesbeth's mouth. As she gasped and panted, he said, "We're in a good mood tonight, Whore. So we're going to let you decide what it is you want. You have three choices. Here's One." Moving his arm straight up and down, he brought the Whip right across her chest, striking both breasts in one stroke. Where my wince had the pleasure of being just from the sound of it, Mrs. Nesbeth's was from pain and, if my ears weren't deceiving me, perhaps a twinge of pleasure. Anthony repeated his strikes and a steady rhythm of thwip-smack-gasp, thwip-smack-gasp reverberated around the room.

"And here's Two." Timing his strike to catch her as she exhaled, Roland brought his Whip down hard on her midsection, driving the rest of her air out of her. Mrs. Nesbeth cried out and sucked in air loudly through clenched teeth. With her next exhale, Roland struck again, making her whole body tense up as she fought to earn every breath.

"And finally, Three." Ian had been shaking his wrist loose and upon identifying his target, I sat absolutely terrified. I braced myself for a tremendous thwack and an ear piercing shriek, but only one of those came true. Ian, with no more motion than flicks, slapped his Whip, gently but rapidly, against Mrs. Nesbeth's pussy, the sheer multitude of falls making sure that at least one of them would hit the bean in-between her lower lips.

Mrs. Nesbeth squirmed and tried to close her legs to defend herself against Ian's ****, but her binds were too tight. When he stopped, she had been reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. After giving her a mere moment to breathe, Anthony took over from Ian and started whipping her breasts again. "So those are your choices, Whore. Just tell us which one you want and we'll give it to you."