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find you, unless I want them to. Now kneel up pretty for me, so I can see your tits and cunt and that pretty ass." He rapped her behind with the cane several times until she responded by lifting herself to her knees. "Now hands behind your head, elbows real wide. Don't want anything hidden, do we now?"
        To achieve the position, she had to lift the heavy chain over her head, where it dangled between her shoulder blades, the wrist cuffs clashing as she tried to weave her fingers together at her neck.
        She got it right; he knew she would. After so many days deprived of a normal existence and normal occupations, he could trust her now to wage almost no significant protest.
        "Nice, very nice." He was circling her again, this time making an unknown clicking sound that took some moments to identify.
        The realization finally hit her hard, "No! You're not taking my picture!" She collapsed to the floor in a defiant heap. Thoughts of her image posted to kinky websites immediately flashed through her mind, providing the terrifying continuation of an already loathsome nightmare.
        "But I am taking your picture and I will a thousand times if I like. You're mine, lock, stock and barrel, Kat Bloom." Did she hear the same mocking chuckle in his voice that accompanied their every conversation? She didn't have to actually hear it anymore, she could feel it rattle her bones. "Now, get those pretty tits back up so I can see them, unless…" he punctuated the command with a sharp stinging cut of the cane on her exposed thigh. She immediately struggled back into place with the heavy shackles clattering against the floor.
        Tears streamed from her eyes as he clicked off shot after shot until he'd entirely circled her shackled body. Then he paused long enough to say, "On your hands and knees," before beginning another trip.
        Pulling the chain back over her head, she leaned forward on her hands as if she was about to crawl, then as motionless as a creeping cat, listened to him photograph every nuance of her naked and shivering body.
        The next command he punctuated with a hard swat of his nimble cane. "Shoulders to the floor, doll, and keep that pretty ass end high?"
        She practically lunged into the position, her chest falling to the hardwood, her legs almost buckling, they felt so weakened from the weight. She righted herself into the ordered pose and waited once again in humiliating silence as her captor made the rounds with his camera, shooting emotional darts at her fractured psyche every time he clicked off another snapshot.
        "One more time, Kat. This time, something humble. Sit on your bottom and bend your knees…" he waited for her to obey… "Now draw your feet into your ass and put your arms around your knees and bow your head. That's right, let that inner sub shine through."
        His voice snapped the way the cane snapped against her thigh, then for the fourth time, the camera's lens recorded her surrendering pose. The fetal position was easier than the rest had been, allowing her to draw her energy inside. Although her mind wildly speculated on who would see these demeaning pictures of her shackled confinement, she realized that behind her revulsion was the teaming energy of sexual arousal. This can't be happening…this can't be happening…this can't be happening…
        "Now on your feet, slut!" His voice roared out this time as loud as she'd ever heard it – at the same instant her body felt the searing heat of the leather quirt lashing out across her back.
        Once on her feet, her shackled wrists where drawn above her head with the connecting chain attaching to a hook dangling from the ceiling. She knew what came next, to what vicious lows his sadistic aims could sink. And when he started with a whip he began with a teasing glance off the side of her hip, letting the eroticism build, then with increasing fervor snapped the tasseled tail against