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The Via Crucis of Camille - Crux 1 - Page 11

While Leticia was getting the whip, her servant found compassion in a soldier. The man took his flask of water and raised it to her lips. The woman felt the cold liquid drip into her mouth slowly. Her body reacted, she pushed herself painfully to reach the tip of the flask, to drink more of the precious liquid she was craving for.

Her efforts were testing her capacity, she had been put to the test and passed.

She passed when she resisted the rack and the whip, she passed when the hot irons were applied to her breasts and vagina, she passed when the hot oil was poured over her breast.

Unfortunately her body, pushed to the limits, reacted and her violent shaking broke her wrists and ankles.

That she did not resist.

But she resisted again when she was made to walk on her knees over the burning path to her crucifixion.

The soldiers were laughing and betting with each other as she moved, one step at a time, over the burning coals, falling at the second or third step, only to raised herself again to continue the painful journey.

On the third fall her strength was abandoning her, she could hardly raise herself even as the burning coals were eating her flesh. She fell on her belly, her legs stretched out and she could no longer retrieve them to raise herself. She had only two options as the whip fell on her back.

She could stay put and suffer for as long as they felt she should, or try to move on her belly, with the aid of her legs, until she was out of the burning trail.

She opted for the second. She moved pushing one leg as much as she could, since her legs were still chained together, and pushed her body an inch at a time.

In this manner, Leticia's servant snaked through slowly, burning her flesh in the process, moving as a snake but at the speed of a turtle, her legs pushing her a little at a time, and with every move she found fresh hot coals to burn into her.

She held her head up, keeping her face from burning and her eyes fixed on the post. It looked so far, so terrible far.

The soldiers screaming and prodding her as if they were in the middle of a sporting event, betting for or against her. Some pushing her with their lances, The whip falling on her back.

A feast of cruelty that had gone beyond any control.

Even the curious onlookers were participating with their screams and prods.

The woman moved slowly, growing weaker, her pain taking away her resolve and energy, the burning coals and ashes under her body.

She then felt a burning sensation on her back, it was not the whip.

During Camille's scourging I made some pauses some times to change the angle or focus of the camera and other times just to see her.

It was during these moments that Camille seemed to be absorbing more of her role. She had learned to never come out of character. To use as much of her real suffering to bring depth to the suffering of her character.

It was in these moments of pause that I could tell her a bit of the story she was living, then I could give her some instructions or some criticism, but mostly praises for a great performance.

That's when I could tell her that she was never so beautiful as she was at that moment.

It took a while for her to understand this view.

How could she look beautiful while suffering. Where was the beauty in that?.

I took the camera to weave by her body from her struggling feet painfully leaning on the sharp wooden support, pass by her legs and belly up to her wounded breasts and all the way to her face.

She felt the kiss of the lens as it explore her. She was very well acquainted with the lens and the lens loved her terribly.

Her features were a feast for the craving lens. The light, even the indirect light of the lamps I devised for the moment were her best friends.

Her forms were made perfect with the subtle lens focusing on her tight skin.

She was simultaneously hard and soft to the touch. Her breasts were firm and the lens captured that.

My mouth was clamoring for her tongue while my entire body wanted to swallow her up while entering her to the depths of her warm and juicy cave.

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