When I asked Camille to do a session I was sure she was going to say no. We were breaking up and this was a bit too intimate but she surprised me by agreeing to do it. I wasn't sure any more of what she wanted. I had to come to terms with this.

Until now the only people I did something like this with were in intimate terms with me. It was a game of passion, a turn on, and it definitely led to sex, it was, in other words, foreplay. It was the equivalent of making out in the car or the park or the beach.

It was mandatory that after a session we would make love, if not I would go mad.

How could I take so much excitement, how could I be turn on this way and not have sex after or during a session. This were things I was now forced to face.

This view was short lasting, each lash would take Leticia's mind elsewhere. She could feel her back breaking in pieces, perhaps turning purple, or black, or red like her servant's body.

That was not the end she ever thought she would have. Her life was comfortable and wealthy enough that she was sure she would die of old age surrounded by loved ones.

She was beautiful and her body was healthy and strong. She was preparing for motherhood so she was taking extreme care of herself, she was also somewhat vain, she loved to see her reflection. She was admired. It was her beauty that first conquered her dead husband. Later it was her mind and her character. She was strong willed and fair.

She was a hanging body now.

How many flogging did she take since we met, recorded and not recorded?

Wasn't it becoming repetitious? Actually up until this moment I had not been able to go through a complete session of a crucifixion. I had gotten far and I had done a lot but I was not even close to what I wanted to see, what I wanted eventually to have in the movie I was planning.

Now, as I lashed Camille, I hoped that at least this time I would do it as close to my idea as I could because maybe this opportunity would not present itself again.

I lashed with renewed energy. She felt it.

Leticia felt the time it took each blow of the heavy whip to reach her was getting longer and longer, as if time had slow down. Each blow made her crash against the post, with each crash she felt as if her ribs were breaking and she also felt the splinters from the rough wood penetrate her skin.

She had splinters in her belly, in her breasts, in her arms. The ropes around her wrists were cutting her skin, her toes were bleeding as she struggled to get a footing on the edge of the post.

The lashing continued and she thought she was not going to reach the end of it. And she was glad. She didn't want to hang for days like her servant.

The poor servant was dragged out of her dungeon soon after she finally confessed that her mistress, Lady Leticia, had given her instructions to poison the senator.

She was released from her bonds on the rack and she fell to to the ground, unable to use her feet or hands to help herself. They were broken when she was stretched to her limits.

She was brought near death on the rack and just when she though she would die they poured the hot oil over her chest.

The faithful servant couldn't resist the hot oil running down her body. She could not resist the pain as the oil entered her wounds, the wounds made by the whip across her belly and breasts.

It was then, when she shook in pain so violently, that her wrists and ankles broke. She heard her bones break, they snapped like twigs and the pain she felt was beyond unbearable. She screamed her confession and the torture was halted.

After she told them what they wanted to hear she heard the command: 'Take her to the hill and hang her. that's where she'll wait for her mistress'. There was a laughter after that command.

She was taken down from the rack and made to lay on the floor, trembling in pain, crying, until two soldiers took her by her arms and dragged her out of the dungeon.