[skjelner]

So glad you're enjoying this story! After a looong break, I'm finally back with a nice long part for you. :)

***

Whoosh! Erin’s first attempt at cracking the whip was more pitiful than she would have expected. The lash sailed through the air and hit the concrete wall a few inches beside Isabel’s stomach. Isabel flinched and let out a small yelp, then her expression switched to relief when she realized she hadn’t been hit.

Erin looked toward the men, none of whom moved or said anything. She sighed, then raised the whip again. CRACK! Though the sound wasn’t very loud, this time Erin had landed the mark, albeit on her friend’s thigh. She was almost as surprised as Isabel, who kicked her leg and yelped again, this time much louder. Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Brian nod as if in approval, so Erin straightened her posture and raised the whip again.

“One,” she said.

Erin looked into Isabel’s eyes, and while she looked distressed, Erin could tell she now just wanted to get the ordeal over with. Knowing it would be best to aim for the chest or stomach in order to get the beating over with as quickly as possible, Erin cracked the whip again.

“Two.” The second lash left a small red mark just above Isabel’s hip bone.

“Oww!” Isabel cried out, squirming in her shackles. “Not where the skin is so thin!”

“I’m sorry,” Erin said. “I’m doing the best I can.” She brought the whip down again, this time finally connecting with Isabel’s stomach. Flecks of dried vomit flew into the air as another red mark started to form on Isabel’s pale skin. “Three.”

Erin’s fourth attempt missed Isabel completely, and while Isabel seemed relieved, Erin knew she needed to connect. The fifth strike landed squarely on her friend’s belly button, and Isabel cried out once more.

“I really hate to interrupt,” Brian suddenly said, “but I’m gonna need you to start over, Erin.” None of those weak attempts at whip handling even remotely resembled a nice beating. You’re going to have to hit a lot harder than that. Put your wrist into it.”

Chris sniggered. Isabel’s eyes widened as she looked frantically toward Erin, who knew deep down that she had not been giving this her all. “Fine,” she said. As Isabel cowered in the shackles, Erin raised the whip and cracked it, this time holding nothing back. Isabel shrieked as the lash landed just below her left breast, immediately creating a bright red mark on her almost-white, puke-tainted skin.

“One…?” Erin said, almost as if asking a question.

Brian laughed. “I’ll count that as a hit to the chest,” he said. “If only for the effort. But next time, make sure your aim is accurate.”

Erin’s next attempt landed squarely on Isabel’s stomach, but with much more force than the previous stomach hit, and Isabel let out another scream. She diverted her gaze from Erin, who figured she didn’t want her best friend to know how much pain she was in.

“That’s one hit on both the chest and stomach. Let’s continue,” Chris said.

Erin’s next two hits landed on Isabel’s stomach. She felt like she was getting better at this, twisted as though it may be, but Isabel was clearly in a lot of pain.

“OW!” Isabel shouted as Erin’s fifth acceptable hit connected with the smooth skin of her left breast.

“Five.”

“That hurts like a bitch.” Isabel hung her head. Erin paused and thought she saw a tear roll down her cheek, but it could as well have been sweat.

“Keep going,” Brian said, “or I’ll reset the counter. We don’t have all morning, Erin. And keep up the strength of those cracks. Your aim is better than I expected, but your speed needs work.”

In a weird way the situation reminded Erin of yoga class. Only instead of power poses, Brian was teaching Erin how to inflict pain on another human being. As much as she didn’t want to, Erin nodded, and Isabel moaned in distress when she quickly raised the whip again.

After a dozen more lashes to the breasts and stomach, and a few sporadic misses, Isabel was beginning to look like a bruised melon—clearly her tender skin could not handle the damage from the lash very well. The girl had begun to wail as tears flooded her eyes, traveling down her welted, vomit-covered breasts.

“Erin, please …” Isabel managed to choke out in between sobs.

“Isabel, I have to … you know I have to.” Erin hung her head. “I’m sorry.” She landed another lash across her friend’s chest, and Isabel let out a wheeze. “They’re just going to do something worse to us if I don’t, you know that.”

“You should listen to your friend, Isabel,” Mark said. Erin landed another exactly on her friend’s right nipple, though she had been aiming for the breast tissue.

“OW! Jesus, at least don’t hit my nipples!” Isabel cried out, desperately kicking her legs around in the air, her wrists straining against the shackles. “How many of these are left?” She looked to Brian, her face almost completely obscured by smeared makeup, tears, spit, and vomit.

“Fifteen hits. Three to the breasts, six to the stomach and six more wherever you happen to land. Do continue, Erin.”

Erin continued the beatings, with Isabel looking worse by the minute. After landing the final blow to her friend’s midsection, Erin stepped back. “That’s ten.”

“Nice work so far,” Brian said. “I’m actually a little bit impressed. But you’ve still got six left. Anywhere you’d like. But make them good. I’ll know.”

Erin tried breath steadily. She looked to the mess of red hair that obscured Isabel’s shining face. “Where do you want them, Is?”

Red marks criss-crossed Isabel’s once-smooth stomach; some had turned a bright shade of purple. “Legs,” she heaved, clearly in pain.

“OK.” Erin took a deep breath. It’s almost over, she thought. Knowing she had to keep it above the knees, she aimed for her friend’s skinny thighs, which had so far remained relatively untouched. Isabel screamed after each lash, as the whip easily broke her tender thigh flesh with each blow.

By the time she finished, Erin felt utterly drained. “Thirty.” She dropped the whip and crouched with her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she cried, sobbing harder than Isabel now.

“Now, now,” Brian said. “Don’t be sad, Erin. You can take pride in the fact that you learned something today. Whip training is not easy for everyone to get the hang of, but you took to it like a champ. Nice work.”

Erin, however, did not feel like she did a good job at anything except hurting her best friend. No one is meant to go through something like this. She was sure at this point that the men were intentionally trying to drive the girls apart.

Isabel did not look at Erin even after Chris and Mark undid her shackles and lowered her to the cold floor. She collapsed to the ground, shaking, but Chris immediately yanked her to her feet.

“You better buck up, bitch. It’s your turn with the whip now.”

Erin had been dreading this moment the entire time. Cracking the whip was awful in its own right, but she couldn’t imagine what the pain was like for Isabel on the other side. A panic began to set in as Brian grabbed her roughly and pushed her against the wall. Erin felt dizzy; her vision blurred as she felt the cool steel of the shackles around her wrists. She struggled to watch as Chris put Isabel into position and handed her the whip. Hyperventilating, she waited for the pain.

What seemed like an eternity passed, but when the pain didn’t come, Erin’s vision began to clear. Isabel had dropped the whip. It was Erin’s first good view of her friend since she had administered the beating. Deep red lash marks covered not only her stomach but also the entirety of her thighs and breasts. The contrast between the marks and her bright, shiny skin looked almost as if she were wearing a striped, skin-tight dress.

“I can’t do it.”

“What?” Brian got close to Isabel’s face. “You will do it. This training is very important.”

“I can’t—I can’t hurt her like that. It’s too … barbaric.”

Brian spat in her face. “I don’t care what you think this is. Pick up the whip and get started.”

“No. I’m not going to hurt Erin. You can’t make me hurt my friend.”

Brian picked up the whip and shoved it into Isabel’s hand. She let it drop as soon as she touched it.

“Bitch.” Brian grabbed the whip and brought it down hard across Isabel’s back. She collapsed, her knees banging to the floor.

“Ughh …” she moaned.

Brian whipped her mercilessly several more times; Erin could tell he was using much more force than she ever could have mustered. Isabel let out ear-piercing screams as she twisted her body around on the floor, trying in vain to avoid the bullwhip. After several savage blows, Brian gave her a hard kick to the ribs then stood back. Isabel didn’t move.

Passed out, Erin thought. That would be too much for anyone to handle.

“Chris, get her out of here. Clearly she’s not ready to cooperate yet.”

Chris then lifted Isabel’s frail body over his shoulder. “What do you want to do with her?”

“Take her back to her old cell. We’ll have to come back to this when she’s more … willing.”

“Understood.” Chris swiftly carried Isabel into the darkness. Erin listened to his footsteps get quieter and quieter, then heard a door open in the distance. It slammed shut, and Erin knew she was alone with her captors once more.

“Erin, Erin, Erin.” Brian walked over and stroked Erin’s breast. She didn’t flinch, even as he ran his finger across her nipple and down her stomach, keeping her head down, sobbing, wondering when—or if—she would see Isabel again. “You are truly something.” He danced his fingers across her pelvis, inches above her bruised, aching slit. “Obviously stronger than your little friend. Very pleasing.” Brian’s finger had collected some of the dried vomit, which he shook off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Do I get a reward?” she asked sarcastically.

“Why, yes, in fact, I think that may be in order. I’ll look into it. But first, I think you need to feel what Isabel felt this morning. It’s only fair.” He winked. “Mark, why don’t you give our trainee here a little lesson with the flogger? I’ll be right back.” Brian left in the same direction as Chris, leaving Mark and Erin alone. Mark began rummaging through the black box on the floor.

Trainee for what? Erin wondered silently. The men kept talking as if they were preparing her for something. She knew everything she did was being filmed, but for what purpose? Explanations that made sense eluded her, but she thought for sure, at least, that she wasn’t the only one they were interested in. Are there other women here besides Isabel and me? How big could this place possibly be, anyway?

A sharp pain snapped Erin out of her thoughts, as she realized her next beating had begun. Mark stood a few feet away and was using what Erin assumed was a flogger, like Brian had said—a short whip with many leather tails. Each one stung as it landed; Mark alternated between Erin’s breasts and stomach, just as she had done to Isabel.

Erin moaned in pain with each strike, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about the anguished look on Isabel’s usually pretty face when she was taking the lashes, about her sobs of despair, about the pain Erin had caused her best friend—directly, by her own hand, no less.

Mark moved closer to Erin. She didn’t notice his unzipped jeans and barely realized when his cock was suddenly inside her. Only when he lifted her legs over his shoulders, putting a lot of pressure on her wrists as he fucked and flogged her simultaneously, did Erin’s mind return to the matter at hand. Soon, however, between Mark’s rhythmic pumping and the scorching lashes, Erin’s thoughts drifted back to Isabel. Based on Erin’s experiences—her back still ached from the glass shards—Isabel was in for a horrendous punishment today. I let her down, she thought. How could I have been so sick? I barely hesitated to whip her, but she couldn’t even do it once to me. She wondered if Isabel would ever forgive her—if they ever saw each other again.

Erin’s cries of pain turned to sobs, growing louder and less controlled with each moment. She felt hopeless and alone.