Chapter 39: ... And Again

The very next evening, Karl came into Jacqui's Place again and demanded, "That Sarah should be working tonight. I want her to thrash tonight."

"Fine, Karl," said Jacqui.

Karl was somewhat taken aback that his demands were being met. Still suspicious he asked, "What will that cost me?"

Jacqui smiled and said, "Five hundred."

Karl exploded, "Five? Five? Again? She's only a tart and she costs five hundred credits a visit?"

Jacqui added, "There will also need to be a note of hand for five thousand in case you succeed in killing her."

She nodded to Greta who slipped out of the room to warn Sarah. Karl continued to mutter, but he wrote out the note of hand and paid over the money. Then Greta returned.

"If you'll come this way, Mistress Sarah will receive you now," said Greta.

As Karl went into the Entertaining Room he turned to Greta and said, "I wanted her ready shackled naked on that bench."

Greta just shrugged and left, closing the door behind her.

"Stop there. Down on all fours you dirty little dog," came the standard greeting to this particular branch of Hell, "You are a dirty dog coming here expecting to visit me, Mistress Sarah, offering to pay almost nothing; wanting to be thrashed for free, almost."

Again, Sarah was wearing her horned helmet and the leather and steel bikini, and had a whip in each hand.

"Down on the bench," she ordered in a voice that brooked no dissent.

"But I came here to thrash you," said Karl, "That's what I paid for and that's what I'm going to do. Now strip and on the bench or I'll..."

CRACK! One of the two whips curled round Karl's shoulders and knocked him part way across the room. As the pain bit home he buckled almost to his knees, but just managed to stay upright.

"Hey, that's not fair," he yelled, beside himself with rage, "I haven't got a whip."

Sarah decided to take a big risk, for big rewards, she hoped. She tossed one of the whips to Karl, and he caught it. Moving towards Sarah, he pulled his arm back to strike and...

CRACK! He screamed as the whip in Sarah's hand curled round his forearm forcing him to drop the whip she had just given him. As he nursed the agonised muscles in his arm...

CRACK! The whip tore across his back again evincing a scream and knocking him to his knees. Another stroke of the whip, to the arse this time, had him on the floor rolling and howling in pain.

"Strip!" came the peremptory order from Sarah, "or you'll get some more of that!"

This was the moment of truth and both of them knew it. If Karl got up she would have to strip herself and submit to all his sadistic desires on the whipping bench. If he couldn't face her down she had a slave for life. For a moment it hung in the balance.

Then Karl said, "Please, Mistress, no more whipping. Please," and hastily took off his overalls.

Thirty minutes later, Sarah went into the Receiving Room with Karl on all fours, collared, on the end of a lead.

"My little poodle, here, wants to go for a walk. Have we got an overall he can wear because it might be cold out?" she asked a flabbergasted Jacqui, "He wants to go and play with his own little bitch."

Jacqui found some overalls that would fit Karl and he dressed and left with as much dignity as he could muster.

"What happened to his own overalls?" asked Jacqui.

"He tore them trying to get them off as fast as he could," giggled Sarah, "He was funny. Do I get to keep all the money in them as a tip, please Madame?"

"Of course," said Jacqui, "He paid me all I asked. How much is there in his pockets?"

"I don't know," said Sarah, "but it's mine now."

"Less ten credits," said Jacqui, also giggling, "for his new overalls. You can pay for those."