It hurt more than anything I could imagine. I cried out when the strip of leather burned across both cheeks a third time. On the fourth stroke, my ass...on fire, a slow, sweet warmth started to spread from the inside. It mixed wonderfully with the pain. The all consuming pain. The room, everything else, disappeared. The belt cracked across the tight denim, six, seven times with a Crack! that ehoed round the room. By the seventh stroke my legs were dancing in the air and I was crying out like a. Another club whistled over my head.I grinned. Sometimes being built "lower to the ground" had its advantages. My sword sliced through ogre armor, scoring a cruel gash the length of my opponent's side. He howled. Oh well, I thought. Nothing attracts ogres more than a wounded one.Soon enough the cavern rang with heavy footsteps of two more white-clad ogres, coming to join their wounded friend in combat. One tried to get behind me, but I wasn't having any of that. I turned to face him directly;. More

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