The executioner, after a short rest, set himself to the task afresh. He turned Grace over so that she lay face upwards, her treasures on full display. First came a sharp stroke on either calf, and Grace shuddered, throwing herself back as far as the play of her bonds allowed. Next the lash, drawn from below upwards, wound round her navel rasping the tender flesh. This was followed by a storm of hoarse inarticulate cries, screams in which the words were no longer distinguishable. But the blows fell regularly and methodically, beating always on the same place, touching up her tender thighs, the tip striking her belly up as high as the navel.