Family Matters Ch. 12

Arnold's desire to study scourging continued; one day Marci invited him to witness a demonstration.

Ingrid, a friend of hers since childhood and now a partner in an investment firm, was remorseful over casting aside a man who loved her. He committed suicide; lacking the courage to do the same, Ingrid asked the trainer to put her down.

Marci refused. But she offered to exact a penance Ingrid would remember all her life and Ingrid agreed to it.

On the appointed day, Arnold brought Faith - he wanted her to see it also - to the door of a "ladies' training facility" in the city. Marci met them there and led them down to a small theater in the basement.

Ingrid was already there; she stood alone on the stage, looking a little nervous in a tailored wool suit. Marci introduced her to Arnold while Faith stood off to one side on her leash.

At Marci's order the woman removed her shoes, then her suit, blouse, bra and panties and stood naked before the three. Marci suspended her by her wrists and patted her on the cheek; she smiled timidly at her friend. Arnold took a seat in the front row and Faith knelt in an empty space next to him.

She admired the elegant figure before her, perfectly proportioned with large firm breasts, a slim waist and flat belly. Her feet were spread apart just enough to reveal solid thighs and full soft lips at the top.

She was irresistible, but haughty and aloof. No wonder men fell for her; she was literally a femme fatale.

People began to arrive. A sense of anticipation filled the air. This would be no ordinary performance. When the room was full the madam signaled to Marci from the entryway and she introduced herself.

She explained why Ingrid was here and briefly summarized the events that led to it. Her latest cast-side lover was not the first.

Ingrid was Swedish, with long blonde hair down to her shoulders. Marci's first act was to cut it off. She would sell it to the renderer and give the proceeds to the man's wife, who was in the audience.

The woman stood up and everyone applauded her while Ingrid, now bald, looked down in shame.

Not even the eyebrows were spared. She was left stark, an ungainly bird shorn of its feathers.

Marci held her hands up to Ingrid who kissed them. Did she agree to what was about to be done to her? She did.

The trainer wadded a square of cloth into a ball. "Open your mouth." Ingrid obeyed and she inserted it, securing it with a strip of the same material. Loosely; the audience wanted to hear her, but not too loud.

She took up a tattooing needle and wrote on Ingrid's forehead "Killed my man". She explained there was no room for more detail, and everyone laughed.

Next she brought out the scourging rake with its razor-sharp points and displayed it to the audience, then to Ingrid who began to shiver. She told her girl to stop that and Ingrid tried.

Marci set to work. First a set of rows down each of the breasts; then across the nipples while Ingrid writhed and muted sounds came from her. The belly next; down, across, and graceful swirls.

Her head began to swing from side to side. Marci gestured to an attendant who grasped it and held it firm. Ingrid's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and her nose flared like a frightened horse's. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her screaming was almost continuous.

Marci leaned forward and did the thighs, then stepped around to the back of her friend. The audience gasped at the image exposed to their view; a network of angry red lines covered the girl who was weeping now like a little child.

Faith looked over at Arnold. He was making notes on a pad. She admired his self-control; the boy was a consummate professional.

Standing behind Ingrid, Marci raked her back, buttocks and thighs. Open your legs more, she said; Ingrid obeyed and she did the tops while the girl screamed in a higher pitch.

Marci finished with a long slow stroke and wiped down the scourge. Ingrid was destroyed, her once beautiful body incised with marks that would never disappear.

Faith's initial shock subsided and she found the girl even more desirable now; fragile, yielding, accessible. No man would kill himself for her again but many would be happy to use her.

Marci had made her a whore; and a valuable one, Faith's practical sense told her.

She wanted to be like Ingrid at any cost. The thought frightened her but it would not be denied. She tried to put it aside.

Marci invited the audience to come onstage and administer punishment to her girl. Do you agree, Ingrid? Still gagged, she nodded yes weakly.

Hands, feet, or knees; but no knives or other weapons please.

Someone held up a screwdriver. No, not that either.

A line formed at the base of the stage; people punched and kicked her for half an hour. Several women slapped her with all their might. At the end she was covered with dark bruises that complemented the network of red lines.

Marci released Ingrid from the rope and she collapsed on the stage naked and broken, twitching occasionally. No one moved to help her.

The man's wife approached Marci and said a few words to her. Marci rolled Ingrid over on her back and the woman stood with one foot on her belly. Marci handed Ingrid's hair to the woman and she was photographed holding it up in triumph. The image would appear in newspapers the next day.

Returning to her guests, Marci asked Arnold what he thought. He said he would like to learn from her, and she agreed to ask his father's permission.

The audience filed out slowly, talking among themselves. Faith thought she glimpsed her father in the back row before he turned his head away. Arnold led her home while Marci remained behind to clean up.

The evening, and the sight of Ingrid's ruined body, left Faith stimulated. She hoped her stepson was too and would put her over the back of the sofa, but he led her straight to the foot of the stairs.

She paused; he looked at her and perceived her disappointment; she made that inviting O with her mouth. He laughed and told her to kneel.

With her hands behind her she could not draw his sex out, so she waited quietly on her knees for him. When he did she took it up, caressing it and feeling it rise.

They both knew the ritual; she worked him respectfully until he was ready and then sped up to bring him to a climax, receiving his seed and savoring it. When he withdrew she touched her forehead to the floor.

He patted the top of her head, led her up to her room and locked her in for the night. She lay down to think.

Arnold's touch reminded Faith of Marci's pat on Ingrid's cheek. It spoke reassurance to the frightened girl. I am your friend; I am going to hurt you but not from anger, and it will benefit you.

She was growing fond of her stepson, even romantically inclined. He was so attentive to her needs, keeping her water bowl filled and taking her out to squat in the garden after every meal. She went over to the bowl to drink but paused; there was still a taste of Arnold in her mouth, she wanted it to last.

She treasured the memory. Arnold was larger, more vigorous than his father. Perhaps it was his youth; no, Lawrence had been vigorous enough before their marriage. And then having gained her he saw her merely as a girl for sale.

Well, that's what she was; but she loved it.

She wondered if her stepson would like to impregnate her. No, he did not seem interested in that, and she would be less attractive at the market.

Would he fatten her up for sale to a renderer? She imagined herself stored in a cage for a year, fed rich foods and bloating up to three times her present size. Not that either; he liked to take her from the rear and all that tallow would make her inaccessible. She laughed at the thought.

She reflected on the scourging. It would surely be considered wrong by some, but the selfish Ingrid had been transfigured by it. She was beautiful in a new way, so appealing as she hung in front of the audience to be beaten.

Faith wondered what her own chances were. Arnold wanted to - she pictured him holding the scourge up to her, then scoring patterns into her trembling body - and Marci was willing to teach him; but his father was right to refuse. She was worth more intact.

Despairing of the possibility she lay down to sleep.

Arnold woke her late the next morning and took her down to the kitchen for her breakfast. Marci was there, talking with Lawrence.

As Faith knelt over her feed bowl, the trainer described for the men what happened after they left.

Ingrid lay on the stage alone until midnight when the janitors cleaned the room; thinking she was dead they carried her out to the street with the garbage cans for pickup. An hour later she was gone.

Around dawn she called Marci and thanked her; she had crawled home without her clothes.

She requested a second favor from her friend. Would Marci take her as a slave? Marci said she needed time to think it over.

Faith listened and imagined herself as Marci's slave. She would like that.

A week or two passed. Ingrid returned to work while she waited for an answer. The story written on her face was known to everyone. She let strangers assault her without resistance and often arrived late for work scratched and bruised, her clothing in disarray. The firm began the cumbersome process of firing a partner; but before that could happen Marci accepted her and she quit.

Marci had no place to keep her new possession; Ingrid stayed outside in Patricia's garden, her collar chained to a wall of the stable while Marci asked around. After an uncomfortable rainy week there of lying in mud a place was found for her.

A brothel had just sent away its oldest whore to be rendered and had a cell available; they agreed to split Ingrid's earnings with her owner, less the cost of room and board. Marci rinsed off her girl and walked her over there that afternoon.

Ingrid quickly became popular with clients. Marci put a photo of the man who loved her, the man she killed, in her cell. It was the first sight that met her eyes each morning, to enhance her remorse and readiness to accept punishment.

And Arnold got his wish to learn the art of the scourge.

On Thursdays he went to the brothel where Marci waited for him; together they strung Ingrid up and gagged her, and Marci showed him how to use the instrument. He mastered the basics quickly, and it kept Ingrid fresh and appealing.

Sometimes he brought Faith; he took her down to the basement theater and with Marci hung both girls up a short distance apart.

Faith was only to be whipped, but there was much to learn; so many instruments and so many ways to use them. When they were done with her they moved over to Ingrid who had witnessed it all, and it was Faith's turn to watch.

And listen to her cries as Arnold imitated teacher's strokes on his alluring subject. Faith wondered if she herself screamed as loudly when she was beaten; she never paid attention.

Eventually Ingrid was sold to a traveling circus and displayed naked to show off her marks. She learned to balance a ball on her head and perform other tricks in the ring before being chased by a pair of clowns with whips; then she lay in the dirt and opened her thighs as they offered her to the crowd.

At first she did not like the feed there; but after it was withheld for three days she relented and ate whatever she got. The circus owner sometimes gave her a dog biscuit after he had her; the other employees - the clowns, the freaks, the strongman - were less generous.

After a year they sold her to a workingman's brothel in Warsaw and she was not heard from again.