In the dark dungeon, a dim light cast a shadow on the wall as the captive dangled from the ceiling. The shadow flickered and swayed like a forked tree branch.
The prisoner did not struggle, nor did she utter a yelp or beg for mercy. She only produced an almost inaudible moan when the whip landed on her skin.
But that was soon drowned out by the following lashes.
"Crack!"
"Crack!"
The candlelight wavered and flickered as it played with the swaying shadow as it moved across the ceiling. The dull sound of a whipcrack cut through the gruesome silence of the dungeon.
After around ten lashes, Earl Lorenzo said, "Enough. Take a break!"
"Yes, my lord." The executioner withdrew.
Blood trickled down the female prisoner's back. There were new and old whipmarks all over her body. Apparently, this was not her first time being tortured. Beads of sweat stood out from the tip of her nose and arms. Obviously, she was suffering great pain, but she forced herself not to cry out.
