IR Future - Part 9

This is brutal. There is, of course, a safe word. You and Lara have not gotten the opportunity to talk about it, but you know perfectly well that you are each much too proud to use it. If you were here alone, you would do it in a heartbeat. Lara would as well. But you’re not alone.

Even in the shower.

Fru Satan watches with her arms folded and wearing a frown as you and Lara awkwardly share a single showerhead. Conveniently, showering up close and personal has never been less sexy. There has never been less danger of you getting hard.

This place at least feeds you reasonably well. It’s not fancy food or anything, but it’s fine, it doesn’t shout at you, and you’re allowed to eat it in peace, although the respite is much too short for your liking. But you understand now: for the people who are into this, this wouldn’t be a respite. They would want to get this bit over with so they could get back to being bullied.

You and Lara are so wrung out that you aren’t sure what to say to each other in the few minutes of peace that you have. You give her a dirty look, and she doesn’t challenge it. This is the shittiest wedding present in history. And this Swedish **** thing is stupid. You aren’t going to say that out loud, but you’re thinking it.

After eating, Fru Satan drags you both back out onto the fake grass. The big light up on the gym ceiling is still shining like it’s noon. You’re tired, and that glare seems to beat on you like the actual sun. It really is like a prison.

She makes you both stretch and do challenging yoga poses, but doesn’t do them herself, so you don’t even get any eye candy. She’s no Amelie, but you want something positive out of all this.

“You are weak, Piggy. Weak,” she says to Lara.

“Am not,” Lara replies irritably as she assumes a plank.

“One hundred pushups.”

Lara gets to her knees and looks up at Fru Satan, quite boldly. “I can do that,” she says.

The boldness actually seems to take the little Swedish woman by surprise. She draws herself up and her expression becomes challenging. She brandishes her whip.

“If you cannot, one hundred whips,” she promises.

“And what do I get if I can?” Lara jerks her chin toward Fru Satan’s chest. “Show us your tits.”

“Rude!” Fru Satan lifts the whip.

“Wait,” Lara retorts. “You can’t be worried. You said I couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t lie, would you?”

You wish Lara would shut up. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do.

Fru Satan looks equal parts miffed and intrigued. She lowers the whip, then gestures for Lara to proceed.