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.
