He felt the whip slip around his throat and pull tight. He began to cough as his airway was crushed and he felt suffocated. Her knee jabbed into his back as she pulled harder on the whipcord, choking him and making him turn bright red. A strange feeling of excitement ran through his veins and he felt a surge of sexual stimulation. The more she strangled him, the higher his sexual desire rose. Then, finally, his head started to buzz and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Mistress Sin wasn't sure whether the slave would awaken, or whether she had sent him into a state of permanent sleep. He lay at her feet and she kicked him in the ribs to see whether he would react. The man let out a slight cough as he dribbled down his face. From this reaction, Mistress Sin assumed that he was still alive. She kicked him again, and again, until his eyes opened and he looked as though he was paying attention to her.
“Get up, dog!” she commanded.

The male's strength was severely sapped, but he knew that he must obey his Mistress if he wanted to avoid being beaten or kicked again. Pushing himself up, he got onto all fours. She patted her boot with her whip and started walking. He knew that her signal meant that he must follow. And so, painful step by painful step, he strode along behind her, his eyes affixed to her smooth, rolling buttocks.

She expected him to walk to heel, like a well trained dog. When she paused, he paused, when she quickened her step, he quickened his step. And so they strode across the field, the Mistress and her faithful dog. After some minutes they reached the riverbank. She sat down on the water's edge and lit a cigarette. He remained, on all fours, eagerly awaiting her next instruction.

Picking up a nearby stick, she flung it into the river and called out, “Fetch!”