But still some days were far worse than others; none of her movements quick enough for the Black Witch’s tastes, her teeth not sharp enough to cut cleanly, and on those days her neck would be pulled low with short chain and collar, the whip coming out to play, her legs splayed open and a howl upon her lips. It wasn’t too bad really, her hide had long since toughened up, but those sweet caresses across the lash marks were all worth the considerable pain that it took to get there.