The room above.

"The room", I finally answered firmly, "the room above, please!"

The whipping stopped, and I felt a hand cupping my chin.

"What a pity! I was starting to have fun with you", the voice said.

A blindfold was applied over my eyes, then I felt one of the men carrying me in his arms. Finally, I felt I was put on a bed.

"Goodbye, girl", the voice said as the door was being shut.

I removed the blindfold from my eyes, and I recognize the room where I had slept before. My buttocks were aching, and I could see my tits and thighs were criss-crossed with red welts. I had been lain down over the blankets, and the clothes I had seen previously were on a chair next to the bed.

Someone knocked at the door. I didn't answer. I heard the door being knocked one more time then a man entered. He was tall, slim, strict looking.

"Good evening, girl!" he said.

He approached me.

"Stand up, girl!" he ordered.

I stood up.

"Turn around!"

I obeyed.

I felt the palm of his hand over my buttock. Then he ran a finger over a whipmark that was specially painful.

"Turn around, again", he asked.

I did so. He cupped my left breast in his right hand. He ran his thumb along an ugly looking welt that crossed my areola. I shivered with pain when his thumb reached the areola.

"These brutes are incorrigible", he said.

"You've got two hours to get ready to meet Sir Nicholas. He is our best client and we still haven't accomplished our promise to let him with a newly arrived girl. He is very demanding and very tough, but he is also very sensitive to feminine elegance. Two hours won't be too much for you to get ready", he continued.

"One last thing. Your name here is Marisol".

My real name was Juanita. I had tanned skin and a brown hair which betrayed my Latin-American blood. That guy was right. I was in a real mess and two hours wouldn't be too much for me to get to look smart. I took a shower, carefully washing my hair. I did my hair. Then I looked at the clothes that had been put for me: smart black panties and a matching half bra, a garter belt, dark stockings, and a long, low-cut dress. I have been prepared high-heel shoes too, and they fitted my feet perfectly.

I was making up my face when I heard someone knocking at the door.

"One minute!" I shouted.

Since the dress was low-cut, it didn't hide a thin red welt that started from my cleavage. When the strict looking man entered again, I told him I needed another dress.

He stepped back, and looked at me.