Restrained to a tree in the woodland, his unclothed back exposed to our strikes. Three of us are involved in whipping him. Initially, only with floggers, then I switch to the snake, my favorite. His moans resonate throughout the glade and among the trees. The sound of my long whip slicing through the air and making contact with his flesh can also be heard. I wear leather gloves, which I use to stroke the slave’s face and his back, now marked with scars. We only show him compassion when he can no longer cease shaking and pleads with us.