I was done beating Camille. It sounds so awful and it probably looks worse, but the actual performance was intensely beautiful.

My fantasies were becoming images, the lashes marking her body, the bleading marks over her breasts, her hanging body. They were no longer pigments of my imagination, they were there, in front of me, haunting me..

It was becoming harder to control myself.  My impulse was to grab her legs and fuck her, right there... and I wondered if she felt the same way.    I thought that she was probably far away from thinking about sex. But she was beautiful and I was ready.

Then the 'what if ' thing came up.  What if she was not only tied to the beams, what if her hands were nailed to it.  How would she feel? How would she react?. Was she ready?.

So... Crucify her!  ... I heard inside of my head,   Like a Roman centurion ... or an emperor... it was an order.  It had to be carried out.