The Training of Sara Faye and Claire Dames, Day Two

Sara Faye. Number one. The idea of suffering for someone else finally hits home. She takes the strain. She lives for collars and leashes. She wants to earn her place. She is a good girl. Claire Dames. Number two. She sees the cost of ignoring the rules before the shoot. She learns respect the hard way. Broken nails sting less than lost control. Under the glitter and the party-girl mask lives someone who needs to be kept in line. She is still a long way off. She is a bad girl. Six in the morning the whistle blows. They race naked up a steep hill while the sky turns red. Claire gets the crop for showing up late and for whatever she did the night before. Sara is told to beat Claire’s name out of her. Every answer is ignored. From now on they are girl one and girl two. The names mean nothing. Only the work does. They drill legs and shoulders in hard rhythm. Push-ups when one falters. Sprints down the slope for the chance to come. The loser spends twenty minutes hurting. Sara buries her tongue in Claire’s aching cunt while Claire is lashed to a boulder, blindfolded, tits out for the whip. Claire has to say it out loud: what a bad fucking girl she is. Later she is used as a living ornament, mouth stretched around cock, body tied and fucked like an animal until she forgets everything except the rope and the cock inside her. Sara learns endurance and consequence. Claire learns discipline, punctuality, and what happens when sight is taken away. Both learn the simple truth: without pain there is no pleasure.