Yarin's POV:
Lowering my head, I saw that I was holding a blood-dripping whip. The whip was woven from thorns covered in barbs, even the handle had no treatment on it, and the sharp thorns had long since bloodied my palms, but I couldn't feel any pain at all, I just swung my hand and felt the soughing sound brought about by the whip's breaking wind in the air.
Raising my head, there was a person kneeling right in front of me. That person's back to me. It wasn't clear if that person was a man or woman, old or young. The back was covered in blood and pieces of flesh. The skin was wrinkled and flesh filled with many thorns. I believe it was from the whip in my hand.
The blood and flesh did not disgust me, nor did the kneeling person make me squirm. I even felt a sense of boredom, for the man before me was too timid and weak to entertain me.
My whip was still ready to go, but the toy was broken.
