Page 41 of Frat Row

I can barely open my eyes, and as soon as I do, my body throbs with pain and soreness. Instantly recalling yesterday, I shut my eyes, trying to block out the memories.

“Hurry the fuck up, ladies!” one of the guards yells at us.

Groaning, I pull myself up into a sitting position, allowing my eyes to adjust to the spotlights above us.

A woman who slept on the bunk above me, Chelsea, I think, hops down inches from me and whispers, “I don’t know how much more my body can take.”

I look at her with pity and a sense of helplessness. “What other choice do we have?” I whisper back.

“No fucking talking.” Rio must have seen us and rushes over, slapping Chelsea across the face. I hear the sting echo in the air and wince.

She quickly clutches that side of her face with both hands, crying out.

My body goes rigid as I quickly get into the line forming at the door to the hallway.

Trembling while standing in line, all I can think about is what the red room would be like with Rio.

Fucking pigs. All of them. The internal rage churning in my stomach grows each day I’m in this place and with these people. I have stopped questioning how they could do something like this and have concluded that they are just pure evil.

The door opens after the code is entered, and we are led to the bathrooms again to relieve ourselves and take showers within the allotted fifteen minutes.

I scrub my body aggressively, wanting to get the feeling of dirtiness off me.

When I’m done with my shower, I move toward the line forming to take us to the atrocities that await us today.

We are given another bottle of water and a piece of bread while we walk to a room we have never been to. I scarf everything down in minutes.

Rio smirks over at us while we wait to be escorted into the room. He holds out his hand. “Undress and hand me your gowns before entering.”

We listen to and follow his instructions without giving him any pushback.

As we walk into the room, I take in the black walls and the concrete floors with crimson stains. It’s dark, and I can only see a little bit in front of me.

My stomach almost heaves up the little I have in it, knowing those stains are old blood from other women before me.

We are shoved toward one of the walls, forced to stand side by side as Will stalks forward, coming into view.

“When you enter a room, how should you be positioned, slaves?” he sneers.

Automatically, we all kneel with our heads down, looking at the ground.

“If you enter one of my rooms again, doing anything but kneeling like this with your head down, you will be severely punished. I will beat this into you until it becomes as natural as breathing,” he growls.

He flips on the lights that shine on the back side of the room. I dare not look up or sneak a glance, but my stomach flips with anticipation.

“Today is day three of sex slave training. Today’s lesson is about flogging.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “You each will be assigned a guard to help me with your training today; they have volunteered.” The guards snicker as he talks.

My stomach flips; they are all sadists, and I know they more than jumped at this opportunity.

My head is pounding with stress because I already know Rio will be my guard. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to inflict pain on me of any kind. For some reason, he has zeroed in on me.

My hands begin to sweat with anticipation; I rub them on my thighs.

Who hasn’t dabbled in a little BDSM with a boyfriend or at least heard of the term flogging?

A memory barrels through my mind of me buying a beginner kit with my high school boyfriend, thinking it would be fun and add a little spice to our relationship.

The flogger that was in the kit was small and harmless.

I am sure it is vastly different here, more extreme. A frown forms on my face, thinking of the potential possibilities.

“Look up, slaves,” Will instructs, snapping his fingers.

Our heads pop up in unison. My head instinctively rears backward, and I have to prevent myself from shifting my body backward to try to get as far away as possible from the sight in front of me.

Wooden pillories are lined up in a row against the other wall, all of them stained with blood. Old blood, new blood, all of it seeped into the wood.

One of the women starts heaving. She vomits everything that was in her stomach directly in front of her, narrowly missing her knees and feet.

Will turns a shade of red I have not seen from him before from pure anger.

He begins stalking over to her, but one of the guards beats him there, cutting him off with his dominating body. He gets behind her and puts his work boot on her back, pressing his weight on her. Her body is pushed down and almost touches the vomit.

“Put it back where it came from while keeping your hands behind your back.” He glowers down at the back of her head.

Shaking violently, the woman opens her mouth and begins wrapping her lips around the chunks on the ground, swallowing them while gagging. After she finishes with the bigger pieces, she sticks out her tongue and licks up the liquid from the floor.

She almost vomits again, but shakes it off and quickly laps up the rest of it.

I couldn’t watch much of it, but it was so silent in the room you could hear the slurping and swallowing noises, and that was enough to make me gag multiple times.

“Good girl,” he says as he swats her ass a few times.

Without missing a beat, Will continues, “As I was saying, your training is flogging today, and you will be hooked up to one of the pillories behind me.”

Letting curiosity get the best of me, I side-eye the wall to the right and notice all kinds of whips, floggers, chains, and other various items hanging there.

Some of them look like they came right out of medieval times. I know they can’t inflict extreme damage to our bodies since we have already been purchased. It wouldn’t be a good look for them as the sellers.

However, they could cause a significant amount of pain in places hidden from public view. Bruises, scrapes, and cuts can be hidden under clothing. Most would heal and cause minimal scarring.

Will walks down the line, opening the pillories. Our wrists and heads will be confined, leaving us in a bent-over standing position, completely exposed.

“Please pick a pillory and position yourself accordingly,” Will states as though this is a normal everyday thing to do. I guess for him, it is.

I drag my feet over to one at the very end, as far away from the wall of whips as possible, slowly placing my wrists in the wooden semi-circles and then my head, resting my neck on it. It seems like the perfect height. I look down and notice they can be adjusted on the sides if not.

Hurriedly snapping it shut and locking it down, Rio rounds on me where I can see him, brushing his fingers along my jaw.

His eyes look wild as he leans in inches from my face.

“We are going to have so much fun today, princess.” He moves behind me where I can’t see him, and I try to stop my body from shaking so much.

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of how terrified I really am.

He runs his hand over my butt, down my thighs and calves. “So smooth, but not for long,” he whispers.

“You sadistic asshole!” I whisper-yell at him.

He spanks me hard, and I wince at the pain. This is going to be the least amount inflicted on me today.

“Guards, please grab the leather floggers with the leather knotted handles. Ladies, you are in luck. We are starting with an easy one, and we will work our way up,” Will shouts, clapping.

I hear footsteps shuffle over to what I call the Wall of Terror. I can shift my head slightly to the right and left, but not all the way, so I’m only able to see the guards move over there quickly, selecting their floggers.

Rio moves around me so he is standing directly behind me.

“I’m not going easy on you today, princess. In fact, I want to mark your pretty skin as much as possible,” he whispers in my ear with venom in his voice.

“When flogging, you want to hit the buttocks, upper thigh, and back. Those are your main points of target,” Will instructs as he walks back and forth like some kind of deranged professor.

Rio lightly grazes the leather flogger over my backside; I can feel the multiple leather string-like pieces, and goosebumps break out all over my body.

Whack. I let out a whine-like sound as the flogger hits the back of my thighs, feeling the sting directly after the hit. It’s not as bad as I thought he was going to strike me the first time, but I know this is going to get progressively worse.

Whack. Pause. Whack. Pause. Whack.

Rio delivers a series of hits on my shoulders, lower back, and butt.

My body instinctively tries to move forward away from the pain being inflicted on it, but the pillory holds me in place, pushing back against my chest, not allowing me to move anywhere.

Rio huffs as he hits me harder in other places on my backside.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

I cry out, wanting to fall to the ground, but the pillory holds me upright in place. I can’t even get on my knees. I have no choice but to stay standing. My wrists are straining against the wood, and I know there will be marks there as well.

My skin is on fire. Tomorrow, I will be covered in bruises, probably worse.

“Your skin reddens so nicely for me,” Rio says, sucking on his teeth with approval.

I grit out a “fuck you” under my breath.

He must have heard it because he delivers absolute agony on my backside. The pain is unbearable, and I scream out.

My senses are heightened rapidly and at an all-time high. All I hear around me is the other women being beaten as well, crying and weeping for the guards to stop, which only makes them hit with more ferocity.

“Time to switch it up, guards; please take your leather floggers and place them in the black bin, and grab the black rubber floggers,” Will commands.

Will walks over to me and inspects my backside. Then, he gets directly in front of me, and I see the bulge in his pants.

“I might need you to help me with this later,” he whispers to me, grabbing himself.

I shudder, thinking of how he will abuse my mouth.

Rio returns and lightly caresses the backside of my body with the rubber flogger. The pieces feel longer and thinner, more painful.

He does not hold back this time.

Whack, whack, whack, whack.

Losing count of how many times he has hit my body, I feel lightheaded, as though I might pass out from the pain. I feel the small abrasions as the cool air hits them all up and down my body.

He keeps going, making sure to hit the cuts that have formed, deepening them.

I am going to vomit from the pain, but I stifle it down, knowing what would happen if I were to.

I try to will my brain to go elsewhere and not think of the pain being inflicted on my body.

Suddenly, Rio takes the handle of the flogger and roughly rubs it between my thighs, hitting my sensitive clit, still sore from yesterday.

“You’re so wet from this,” he says in a low tone, grinding himself against me so I can feel his arousal.

He could not be further from the truth. I am completely dry.

Suddenly, he shoves the handle up inside of me, and I scream at the unexpected intrusion. He begins brutally fucking me with the handle, eliciting more screams from me. He laughs and keeps going at a fast pace.

Deeper and deeper, he drives it into me.

I am sure he has hit my cervix; I feel cramping.

My entire body goes limp, and right before I am about to black out from the pain, he pulls it out of me and starts whipping my back in a quick pattern.

My survival instincts kick in and keep me from blacking out.

I curse to myself, wanting to black out so I can escape the pain.

“Time is up. We will move to the final flogger, the horsehair flogger.” I can just hear the grin in Will’s voice. “Guards, remember we stick to the backside only. No marks are to be made anywhere else,” he instructs them.

I hear more shuffling over to the wall and then the floggers being tossed carelessly into the bin. The guards clap each other on the back, snickering at each other as if this is some kind of sport, complimenting each other’s technique.

The sick fucks.

Rio returns and puts himself at eye level with me, pure malice in his eyes as he says, “You’re going to love this one.

” He shows me the long horsehair flogger, with tiny barbs scattered throughout the hair and a leather handle.

He strokes it, and I flinch at the sight of it causing cuts to his hand, but he doesn’t wince.

No, not Rio. He gets off on any type of pain infliction.

He slowly walks behind me.

My body is trembling with suspense. He soaks in my fear and is far from impulsive, wanting to enjoy every moment of this.

He brushes the flogger over my shoulder, letting it hang beside my neck where it strokes the top of my breast. Then, he does it to the other side.

My hands shake uncontrollably, and my teeth begin to chatter.

He whacks me across my back, and the warm spray of blood steadily drips down my back.

I yell out from the unimaginable pain, kicking my legs back and forth, trying to sit down, but my hands and my head are held tightly in place.

My hands tingle as they go numb from trying to squeeze them through the holes.

I have no choice but to keep myself upright.

Again, he hits me across the back in the opposite direction than before, and I feel the blood spray and drip down my back.

I am screaming now without holding anything back, animalistic sounds coming from my mouth that I have never heard before.

Tears freely flow down my face, wishing for it to stop.

“Mmmm, I am the artist, and you’re my muse; your blood will coat the floor of this room when I am done,” he yells, more to himself than to me.

Then, he whips both of my thighs, and the horse hairs wrap themselves around them, the barbs sinking into my skin.

Finally, the pain is too much, and the darkness overtakes me.