Chapter Thirty
“Wake up, Tyra!”
Tyra opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around groggily. She was still naked, lying on a blanket in the middle of a room that looked like a cross between an alchemist’s laboratory and a torture chamber. As she came to her senses, she drew up her knees and hugged her chest – a homely-looking man with a pot belly and thinning gray hair was standing above her.
“I wouldn’t be too embarrassed, my dear,” he grinned. “We all had a good look at you last night. Quite a performance, I might add!”
The horrid events of the weekend suddenly flashed before Tyra’s eyes – hanging upside down in the trap, being stripped and then forced to jog into the village, her terrible night in the pillory followed by the ordeal in the ducking stool, and then her horrifying ravishme
