Lights and cameras were set up around the suspension chain and harness. Aimee would be
photographed while strapped into this harness. And the photos would be those of
punishments and authentic whippings to be published for connoisseurs of the flagellation
arts.
This chamber of the mansion had once been a ballroom but now lay dismal and dusty
save for the photo areas. A burly man, wearing a hood, led Aimee in, holding her by the
wrist.
The almost-nude Chinese girl cried out when she saw that she was being led to the
harness and chain.
"No, please do not put me in that!" she shrieked.
The hooded man simply laughed at her efforts to resist. And when her bare feet
slipped from beneath her, he simply dragged her along by her wrist.
"Keep it up and you'll spend another night caged," he said to her.
The girl's dusky body was covered only by a scant piece of white cloth, filthy
and frayed. It had been wrapped around her hips and through her smooth crotch, loincloth
style.
Edmund Flint, the photographer, a tall man with gray hair, looked up from the
lights he was adjusting when he heard the commotion at the other side of the ballroom. His
eyes gleamed when he saw the young beauty being brought into this arena of horrors.
Aimee, barely into her late teens, was fine of form and slender, but her body was
becoming contoured. Her black and lustrous hair hung almost to her waist, and her round
but smallish breasts gave her a nubile appearance. She had a finely chiseled face with
large, questioning eyes that contributed to her childlike appearance of innocence.
"Take no nonsense from that little whore, Lothar," Edmund said to the man
who had charge of the girl. "She'll be harnessed whether she likes it or
not."
Edmund snatched up a hand-held camera and took a few shots of Aimee being hauled
along. Realism was one of the trademarks of his work, and pictures of a girl being dragged
to her fate would fetch a handsome price.
Yes, Aimee had been fixed into the dreadful harness before, flogged and tortured
while in its straps, tormented by both men and women, penetrated by complete strangers.
She knew well how it felt to dangle helplessly at the end of the chain.
Once the girl was in the photo area, Edmund lifted the harness from the hook at the
end of the suspension chain.
"Please don't do this to me," Aimee pleaded as Lothar pulled her to
her feet.
But the two men forced her arms into the leather device. The straps went behind her
neck, crisscrossed her breasts, then went under arms to fasten in the back with a buckle.
They cinched this buckle an extra notch, causing the leather to bite into the tender
flesh. Then they bent the girl's arms up at the elbows, crossed her wrists and
secured them into a small leather belt sewn into the back of the harness. This buckle they
fastened doubly tight. Edmund liked his models to wince with authentic pain.
With the girl now harnessed, Lothar pushed her to stand by the chain. He looped the
hook at the end of the chain through a ring sewn into the back of the harness.
Aimee knew that she was about to be lifted. "Don't do this to me,"
she pleaded once again.
But her pleas did her no good. Edmund was already at a large, wooden crank-handle
mounted on a yellowing, marble column. When he began turning the handle, the ominous
clanking sound of rusted gears came from within the high ceiling, and the chain began to
tighten, lifting Aimee upward. Edmund didn't cease cranking until she was up on the
ends of her nude toes.
Her body was taut now, the sinews of her brown flesh strained and knotting beneath
the skin while her toes skittered at the cracked marble of the floor.
Edmund went to a tripod-mounted camera. "Strip her down," he said to
Lothar. "Teen-girls need to be naked."
The camera began clicking as the hooded Lothar took up a stance in front of the
girl. The black hood revealed only his eyes, mouth, and nostrils, but Aimee could see that
he wore a cruel expression that showed he was clearly pleased with his task. He undid the
knot that held the ragged loincloth together and then pulled it slowly away, completely
Aimee's nudity and exposing her smooth pubis.
"I'm sure you'll be more comfortable this way," he said as he
tossed the tiny piece of cloth away.
He stood aside as Edmund took a few photos of the girl just dangling there.
"Is she shaved regularly?" Edmund said from behind the camera, commenting
on Aimee's hairless pussy.
"No need for it," Lothar replied. "This young thing hasn't
sprouted any hair yet. Some Oriental girls never do."
"Didn't know that. I thought they shaved as a matter of custom."
"Yes, most do. Some never have to bother."
Resigned to her predicament, Aimee was now motionless.
"Time to get this pretty thing moving about," Edmund said. "How
about working on her?"
"My pleasure," Lothar said as he advanced toward the girl. "What
shall we do with her?"
"Anything you like. I want some pictures of genuine suffering. Torture the
little slut any way you have to."
Lothar reached out a beefy hand and grasped the bare pubis before him, squeezing
the outer lips tightly together until Aimee gasped.
"Owww," she cried out. "Please."
And then Lothar began doing what he loved best, tormenting a naked and helpless
young girl. He used his hands on her first, pinching and twisting her bare flesh. He
walked around her, agonizing her breasts, her torso, the buttocks.
Aimee squirmed beneath his fingers, her body wagging from side to side in an effort
to avoid this cruel treatment.
Edmund kept the camera clicking nonstop, capturing each second of it.
"What she needs a decent beating," Lothar said as he went to a nearby
table and picked up a long lash-strap. The strap was well-oiled and supple. Lothar doubled
it over in his hands, preparing to whip the girl.
He stood to one side of her, the lash held aloft.
"I beg you to not whip me," Aimee exclaimed. "I've done
nothing."
"You work as a photo model, my girl," Edmund chuckled. "Taking
floggings is part of it. Stop trying to shirk your duties."
"But I didn't know about this," Aimee wailed. "I
didn't..."
But she wasn't able to finish. The whip sailed through the air and struck her
shoulders with a loud smacking sound.
"Owwh!" the girl cried. "No!"
It was an unusual tableau being enacted in the antiquated ballroom, a gray-haired
man taking photos of a hooded figure whipping a youthful female nude, the nude harnessed
and suspended.
After snapping the whip over the whole of the girl's backside, Lothar
concentrated on the buttocks only, cracking the strap at them until the tawny flesh took
on a deep red color. This caused Aimee to arch her body, the pubis thrusting itself
outward, the breasts heaving high.
Aimee was so very bare and so very helpless. She had no choice but to accept
whatever they did with her. She was theirs to do with as they chose, and they were men who
had strange ideas of pleasure. Both of them were relishing her suffering, their eyes
agleam at the sight of her body twisting beneath the punishment.
When Lothar ceased the flogging, Aimee's body continued to writhe about just
as if she were still under the whip. Her breath was still coming quickly, her little toes
wiggling at the floor.
"I need a break from being in front of these hot photo lamps," Lothar
said as he stepped out of the posing area.
But, of course, Aimee was left to swelter in her bondage.
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