Strip and punish her

You pull Marait's knives out and look at them. Sharp, indeed, and well-balanced. You turn to the bound woman before you, examining her body. A tight fabric tunic restrains considerable breasts, and leather leggings enclose long, smooth, strong legs that bend up behind her body. The tension of her body in the fabric stretches the seams. You drag a knife lightly across the shoulder seams and they pop one after another, her breasts sagging slightly lower as the threads snap. You drag the knife down the front of her tunic and the pressure from those beautiful breasts tears the fabric more fully, her breasts finally hanging straight and bare below her chest, gravity already beginning to flush them red. You slide the remnants of her tunic off her back and put the knives aside, reaching underneath her hanging body to caress those beautiful round mounds. Her skin is smooth and warm, her body shuddering at your touch and the strain on her shoulders. She starts to whisper, "Please..." but catches herself and closes her mouth firmly. You laugh. "Please, darling? What do you need? What can I do for you?" She shakes her head, her mouth firmly closed, her breathing now coming slightly harder, flaring her nostrils. "Nothing? Well, do let me know..." You reach down to the floor and select a long, thin whippy branch, perfect for your needs. You slide it across her neck, teasing her with the sensation. With a deceptively gentle touch, you tap the tip of her nose. "Because I have no doubt I can think of things you'd like me to... not... do." 

With a swishing sound the switch cuts the air, striking the bare tops of her breasts. She yelps and twists in the restraints, surprised at the sudden sting. You swing again and again, and each time she twists and jerks in the air. You pause a moment, listening to her gasps of pain. Another stroke stings the undersides of her hanging tits, and she squeals with pain.

"Anything you'd like, darling? Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" Another swing whips her nipples, cracking against the tender flesh. She screams and wriggles again, her shoulders bearing more and more of her weight as her muscles shudder out of her control. One more and she screams out, "Please, stop!" You pause again. "What is my NAME, Marait?" Another lash and she screams again. "Please stop, Master," she whimpers, hating herself for the words. You look contemplative for a moment, then lash her again across the breasts. You can see red welts forming across her lovely skin.