Awaiting the return of the Marquis de Sade and his guests, Claire could still remember the feel of the Prince’s hungry eyes feasting on her naked beauty as de Sade idly asked the Prince, “How would you like to ride this little Philly until she drops?”

The Prince paused almost as if surprised by de Sade’s offer then responded, “What a wonderful idea. What fine lines, so fit, so unbroken. Someday you must show me the rest of your stable.”

The Marquis de Sade, smiled darkly as he paused to drape his heaviest bull whip across Claire’s bare shoulder, provocatively resting its heavy gold tipped handle in the ample cleavage of her bosom as he replied, “After lunch, shall we see how long it will take to break her.”

Then roughly pulling Claire’s head back by her hair, de Sade whispered in her ear, “What a beautiful sight, no? First, I’m going to warm you up with the Prince’s riding crop. After which, I’m going to hand you to the Prince and his consorts to use you like the whore that you are. Then my beauty, I shall beat you again, until you die.”

With that de Sade gave her a long and passionate kiss and left with his royal guests to partake in their luncheon feast.

Claire felt a darkly masochistic sense of almost eager anticipation for de Sade’s return. She already understood that she would die screaming in utter agony at the end of de Sade’s heaviest whip and idly wondered how many strokes it would take end her life. She read somewhere that slaves in the Caribbean island sugar plantations would routinely receive three hundred lashes for attempted escape and that some had received as many as five hundred lashes and still survived their ordeal.

Claire felt her heart beat quicken at the thought of suffering more than five hundred strokes of de Sade’s most vicious whip. It was going to be a long and torturously painful night, she could hardly wait...