As the rod hit Camille's skin, her moans became increasingly louder, sometimes overwhelming the sound of the rod crashing against her pale skin. Margot was downstairs and I was sure she could hear by now. This was the first time I was doing this with Margot within earshot of the action. Marie and Rosie went through this, in this very room, when Margot was away in Hungary.

I was wondering how she felt now, that I was up in the attic room, alone with the prettiest girl in town, doing what I do best.

We had been a couple for a long time, Margot and I, but things went their way and we broke that part of our life off while continuing having a love life, deep friendship and a proffessional relationship that was bound to go on till the end of time. In fact, I'm quite sure that we met before in a previous life... maybe more than just one. We know each other all too well. I believe we knew each other even before we came across each other for the very first time in this lifetime on that boat floating over the Tisza river in Szeged, her hometown ... under communism at that time.

Camille was resisting her torture better than I was struggling with my fiendish action. She was showing to me that she could go far, that she wasn't afraid, that she trusted me totally and that she was the one, because at that moment I was confirming what I had suspected from the moment my eyes and hers met for the first time. I could not articulate that then but deep inside I knew. She was the one. Now that I had her trapped in my lair, I was afraid.

I was painfully aware that every relationship that I had until now, were only a preparation for this moment. I had love them all, indeed, and very much so. I never went as wild as when I met Margot, for instance, and I never felt so identified with someone as I did with Marie ... and I will never forget my sweet first love and first woman under my whip... but this moment was different. It was not just about Camille and me. It was about the future, about our mark in the universe.

Camille bore her marks with dignity and beauty. I was sad that I didn't have a better set and a better camera at the moment. I was using all the available light I had, one lamp on the side and the light of the sun coming from a small window. And yet, she looked wonderful, better than I had expected.

She was performing her pain, her distress, her ordeal with strenght of character, the character that we were creating, the character that was beginning to emerge, the character she was beginning to embody. This was serious.

Looking at the images later that day, I could see that the old VHS loved her and loved her well. It didn't matter that it was an amateur VHS camera bought at a camera store on 14th street in Manhattan more than a year before. I could've been using a MovieCam and the result would've been the same, she would've shine for the camera just the same. I was unto something here.