Do not challenge me! Well, then I order my soldiers to chain you by the wrists to a platform with two vertical posts and one horizontal linking them at the top. A shackled chain hangs from the horizontal.
I have decided that you should be flogged with the Roman scourge. I hope to break your challenge when the pieces of metal and bone open your skin and you scream like a rag to the morning sky.
I read your determination despite this, and I think that perhaps you will challenge me the first blows and try with all your might not to scream. But you will have to take into account that you will hang naked in front of the populace and you will give us satisfaction to see how your body and your ass shake with each whiplash and you shake your legs. That's why I didn't want to whip you tied to a stationary post.
Your barbaric practices prove just how uncivilized your society is. I will give no satisfaction, determined not to utter a sound under your ghastly torment.
Still, inside I am trembling when you have me chained and swaying as you show me the terrible weapon you wish to inflict upon my innocent flesh. The multi stranded whip with shards of ceramic, glass, and metal tired into the knots will tend my flesh with every stroke. The metal shards at each tip will tear me to the bone. I fear the pain, but I am determined to prove your injustice by remaining stoic.
But you test my resolve early. There is no warm up as you let fly with full force and strike my back from shoulder blade to my ribs, tearing great rents into my back with the first blow, and causing me to sway to my right.
This allows your second blow access to my flank and the cruel tips reach the front of my chest, ripping into my breast and tearing the sling on my flank…
Already I am struggling to keep my resolve and by just the fifth stroke I can’t help but gasp at the cruelly deep scourge. By the 15th, tears begin to roll down my cheeks, and a whimper can be heard passing my lips.
Yet my resolve is such that even as you aim at various positions, the 25th striking the insides of my left thigh as you tear off another strip of loincloth that I continue to refuse to scream.
How long must I suffer this? Will you only cease if I elicit a scream or lose control of my bladder. Are you angry because I refuse to submit? Good, barbarian! Ha!!