Emerson Palmer lies on his stomach, naked, spread-eagled, his wrists and ankles chained to the corners of the torture table. He knows he is about to be whipped with a single-tail bullwhip, that his back and ass will be brutalized. “It was fun watching your body shake,” Jared tells the supine boy, referring to yesterday’s electro-torture. “Now I’m going to beat the shit out of it,” he adds, fingering Emerson’s asshole and smacking his whip against the wall. The whipping begins. Loud cracks of the whip are fellow by quick screams, long moans, then gasps of pain.
