Lola - The rendez-vous
- Turn around !
Lola turns back around, discretely placing her feet flat onto the cutting bottle-tops.
Her face is covered in tears. With her fingers she's gripping her buttocks. Her sphincter feels as though its all swollen and bloated. Her pussy is burning.
In any case, she's damn well hurting.
... SLAACK ...
- Onto your toes !
The swipe of the whip across her stomach almost makes her buckle and lose her balance.
- Put your hands on your hips, arms back, and jump on the spot. I want to watch your tits bounce.
Lola's feet are hurting badly but she executes his order, making her boobs jump up and down wildly.
- Faster and higher ! I want your tits to flop harder !
Lola grits her teeth, accelerates her rhythm and amplifies the movement.
The cameraman is delighted. He zooms in onto the mammeries as they bounce up and down. He could never have imagined that Lola's firm tits could be so supple as to deform so violently.
The boobs seem to take off. They rebound, elevate to the maximum possible by the elasticity of her skin, stretch out cutely and crash back down onto her bust.
Mr Yves watches for a while, resting his whip, fascinated by the movement of the pliant mammeries. He feels the beginning of an erection in his pants, he who'd thought it would be all over since several years.....
Perhaps he'll even come between those two massive mounds of supple flesh. He listens to the clapping noise of her breasts against her chest. That must tear at her tits quite a bit and looking at her face it also really hurts her, but she doesn't cease her movements.
Nothing else but that idea, he senses how his stiffening a bit more.
He's certainly in good shape today. Lola is a courageous girl and he'll give those tits a real good whipping. He takes to his whip, aiming right for the bottom of her breasts.
- Hands behind your head...make your tits circulate !
Lola obeys and Mr Yves whips the mammeries as they move quickly to and fro.
For a good minute he, without any respite, whipped the two strangs up to full speed, striating the tender skin of the tits' underside.
Still small tears roll from Lolaís closed eyes as she strenuously tries to keep rotating her breasts, which smack together, whilst in full motion receiving the whip.
Mr Yves continues to give the fleshy orbs a few more hard lashes and then suddenly he stops the whipping.
- On your knees !
Lola opens her tear-filled eyes and attempts to smile as she gets down onto her knees. For a moment she tries to position her toes which are scratching on the bottle-tops. Her feet are now relieved but she quickly understands that she has merely exchanged one form of pain for another. The skin of her knees is very tender and less resistant than that of her feet and the sharp edges of the bottle-tops cut into her tendons. Surely, she can't hold this position for long.
- Hold out your breasts !
At a glance of Mr Yves the cameraman puts down his camera, leaves and returns with a crystal glass cup filled with water.
- You will keep this canten on top of your head. If you move and if a drop of water hits the floor, you will have earned yourself a further punishment, which we will chose from one of my drawings. I'll show you the drawings right away....I will make you look at them, like that, you'll know what awaits you.
The cameraman brings a large folder. Mr Yves opens it and shows Lola a first design. Her heart stops. The girl looks just like her. She has her arms tied behind her back and is suspended by two ropes tied around the base of her breasts.
Her legs are spread wide by chains. A monstrous studded dildo on the top of a metal base is sticking in her pussy. A hooded man is whipping her with a long dressage whip.
Her body is covered in bloody weals.
Mr Yves, satisfied with the frightened look on Lolaís face, shows her the next picture.
Here again, the victim resembles Lola.
The arms tied behind the back, she is suspended by her tits, which this time are also entrapped into leather harnesses which constrain and cut into her big boobs, drawing cries from the poor girl. The harnesses are so tight her breasts are elongated to the extreme into something akin to sausages.
Her legs are spread by chains and her sex is filled, this time by a studded wooden pole.
Lola looks behind her and looks for two objects sheíd noted on entering the room.
The leather harnesses are there, hanging by the wall. Lola notices a horrific detail. The leather straps of the harnesses are equipped, on the inside, with steel points several centimetres long.
Mr Yves quickly pages through the folder. Lola is given time to note girls impaled front or rear on enormous dildos, tits torn at or squashed. She might have thought, in other circumstances, that Mr Yves was an artist. The faces of the suffering girls are overcome by reality in its purest form.
Mr Yves pauses for a moment over the last picture. It is in black and white and show a girl impaled by her anus on a enormous metal hook. A great wheel is turning before her and studded batons fixed to this wheel have just hit her tits from below.
The butchered boobs seem as though they've been through a rotary iron.
- That picture isn't one of mine. It's an illustration by Jo Farrel. His one of my favourite artists. I'm in the process of constructing that very apparatus in the gym hall, in the basement. Itís practically finished, but I can't use it on you. I'll need a girl with far more flaccid and floppy breasts than yours, which will virtually stay in the air under the constant impact of the batons.
Mr Yves closes the folder and hands it to his assistant.
- Leave it there. We'll need it should our guest spill any water from the canten.
Lola hasn't moved.
She's still on her knees on the bottle-tops, the cristal cup over her head, her breasts well offered.
Mr Yves grabs hold of them with his hands and kneads them brutally. He squeezes, twists, whilst forcing his fingers deep into the tit-flesh. He traps her teats between his fingers, tears up, twists, tugs violently, before slapping them very, very hard.
Lola concentrates on not moving and not spilling any water from the canten. Lola skin marks quickly and big traces of fingers soon begin to show all over her boobs.
Mr Yves appears to have no intention of stopping his slapping of her sumptuous mammaries.
One moment he might whack their sides, very hard, making them leap from side to side, or with both hands simultaneously, squashing the tits together. He might squash them flat from above, or slap them from below, so the tits would jump very high, soundly hit on the undersides
The cameraman makes sure not to miss a single shot, making many a close-up of the tits as they dance wildly under the slaps, defying gravity, flying upward by the uppercuts, just before being smacked back in full motion, down again by another blow.
At last he relents from spanking her, but instead once again grabs hold of them with both his hands, savagely drilling his fingers into her glands, tearing, squashing, bruising her sumptuous boobs to his heart's delight.
Once more he begins drawing heart-rending cries from Lola who, despite the painful mauling of her breasts, has still not spilled a drop of water.
With some regret Mr Yves abandons the massive mounds of hot supple flesh and picks up his whip again.