Whiplash Read Online Free PDF

down toward my navel.  It felt like I was made of leather and being stretched beyond the limits.  Looking down, I saw my flesh had been raised into an angry, red welt from the lash of Julian’s bullwhip.  The stripe spanned from my left shoulder almost clear down to my right hip, bisecting my torso. 
    He had marked me, and I was none too pleased.  My skin had always been a point of pride for me - not nearly as light as some of the girls in the barn, but beautiful and flawless nonetheless.  Dark bronze in color, it was a blend of the dark chocolate tones of my father’s skin, and the burnt toffee hues of my mother’s.  Julian had marred its pristine surface for no other reason than to satisfy his own twisted desires.   Pushing my hatred for Julian aside for the moment, I sought out the source of that bell’s tinkle and stood up to assess my surroundings.
    Between the two rows of enclosures stood a colored woman holding a little hand bell, gently shaking her wrist to produce that little jingle that had awoken me.  She was about five and a half feet in stature, with inky black hair coiffed to perfection around the delicate beige skin of her face.  Her eyes, so deceptively kind, were big, round, and the color of sun-burnt wheat.  Around her long, slender neck was a choker-like necklace studded with different types of sparkling jewels.  Her breasts were full, and they almost spilled over the neckline of a delicate, ivory, satin bodice that encased her narrow torso.  Full, shimmering skirts flowed out from her cinched waistline before stopping barely an inch above the ground.   Simply put, she was beautiful, and she might’ve looked like a dream if I’d not been stuck in a nightmare. She waited until we were all standing with our eyes on her before she spoke to us.
    “Good morning, ladies.”  She smiled warmly and waited for us all to return her greeting.  A few of the girls did; I did not. “My name is Vivian, and I’ll be your overseer.  In case you’ve not been made aware of what your duty will be, I will make it plain for you.  You are here as the whores of this estate.  Master Devereaux has decided to revisit a business venture involving services catered to… gentlemen callers. ” 
    She looked around at all of our stunned faces and took on a leisurely stride up and down the midline of the barn.  “I’ll be with you every day, readying you to serve the patrons of Maison Devereaux upon its completion.  You’ll learn to think, act, dress, and entertain as a wench should. You won’t like me, and that’s okay.  I’m not here to be your friend.  My sole purpose here is guaranteeing the success of a business.”
    Once she laid out the specifics of what our daily routine would be, she lined us up for a head count - luckily, without the whip - gave us each a modest dress to wear, and led us out of the barn toward an open pavilion set in a central courtyard.  Although it was still the early morning, the sun was already torturing us with the heat of its rays.  Sweat dripped freely down my face and neck before splitting off to run down my back or between my breasts.  The salty fluid stung me as it ran down over the welt I’d gotten the previous night.  I sighed in relief when we made it to the shade of the pavilion. 
    Several black-skinned slaves were already situated under the hood, gathered in small groups, eating at wooden tables.  I caught a glimpse of what they had in their dishes and prayed to God that we’d not be forced to eat it.  It appeared to be leftover from the previous night’s dinner at the Big House, and it had all been mixed and mashed together to form a slop more suitable for hogs than humans; if that’s what we even were anymore.
    Vivian walked us over to a bin full of different fruits and vegetables. I gathered handfuls of berries, corn, and tomatoes; there wasn’t much else to choose from.  It was late summer, and before the autumn crop would be made available