ZOLA AND THE PHOTOGRAPHER
story codes: BDSM


ZOLA AND THE PHOTOGRAPHER
By Robert White

CHAPTER FIVE


While The Stallion kneeled next to The Tree, who was jerking,
moaning, and obviously very much in pain, and I stood with The
Fireman's spit running down my face, Zola turned and walked to a door
that I hadn't noticed, a door located in the wall to the left of the one we
had used to enter the room.

She opened the door while The Fireman, who was standing just behind
me, gave me a firm shove that propelled me toward Zola.

"Follow me," Zola said. "We have another volunteer who is waiting to
be taken care of."

The door lead directly to a hallway and I followed Zola as she turned
right at one junction and then after walking straight past several halls,
turned left. She made two or maybe it was three more turns, I lost
count, and then she opened a door. I followed her into the dark room
while The Fireman, who was still bringing up the rear, closed the door
and a light came on.

Instead of being in a room, we were standing in a narrow walkway with
an elevator, it's doors open, directly in front of us. Zola entered the
elevator then the Fireman gave me another push and followed me in.
Zola pushed a button, I don't know which one because the buttons
weren't numbered, the doors closed, and the elevator felt like it was
ascending at a slow pace.

"Whenever this elevator is not in use, it automatically goes to the
bottom floor," Zola explained, obviously to me. Deciding that I was
trapped, I relaxed and waited patiently as we ascended to an unknown
destination. Then, with a clunk, the elevator stopped and the doors
opened.

Wherever we were in the underground building, this floor was
clamorous compared to the silent hallways 10 floors down that we had
just come from. Keeping the same order as we had entering the
elevator, Zola stepped out and The Fireman gave me the usual shove
so I would follow Zola.

Again we wound through halls, only there were no doors on any of the
rooms we were passing so I got a chance to pause, look into the
rooms for a moment, before The Fireman would give me another
shove. Most of the rooms were quite small and contained two people,
but I saw three people in at least one room.

Each room contained a dominant and a submissive. Men were sticking
needles into naked women, women were dripping hot wax on nude
men, while another woman was winding plastic wrap around a second
woman who wore a bikini bottom. As we progressed further, the B&D,
S&M actions became more and more bizarre and varied. Then finally
we reached a room with a door. Zola opened the door and we entered
the room.

"Welcome to our second volunteer tonight. This is The Rock."

The Rock was a short chunky woman, who could almost but not quite
be described as fat. A viscous leather band encircled each of her
wrists and another pair of bands secured her arms at the elbows. A
thick belt encompassed her large waist, causing the flesh to bulge
above and below the tight wide strap of leather, pressing her back
securely into the X where there two boards crossed. Leather bands
also pinioned her knees and ankles snugly against the frame. The
Rock was naked, gagged, and blindfolded with a red bandana.

It appeared that she was having trouble breathing because of the
tightness of the strap around her waist. Further complicating her
breathing was a large red ball jammed securely in her mouth and held
in place behind her teeth by a thin black strap buckled behind her
head. This extra large ball gag stretched the opening of her mouth to
an abnormal size and shape, forcing her chin down and causing her
lips to tightly encircle the ball.

The Rock had evidently been strapped to the frame while it was lying
on the floor so when it was propped up against the wall, her feet were
about six inches above the floor. It was hard telling how long she had
been fastened to this device.

Zola walked over to me. "I have something for you to try on, Mr.
Photographer. You've been without clothes long enough. Now I'd like to
give you something to wear.'

With that Zola walked to the opposite wall and took a straightjacket off
a hanger, then walked back to me.

"Here, slip your arms down these sleeves. Hey, Fireman. Before you
start on The Rock, come over here and help me get this on the
Photographer."

While I inserted my hands and arms into the sleeves that ended with
leather reinforcement and continued with belts, one of which was
punched with at least 20 holes and dangled near to the floor. The
Fireman strode behind me and began buckling a dozen or more
buckles down the back of the jacket, then she said, "Hug yourself."

As soon as I crossed my arms in front of me, the Fireman pulled up the
two dangling leather straps and buckled the end with the holes into the
other side that had a strong iron buckle.

"Let all your breath out," The Fireman instructed me. I obeyed and I
could feel her pulling the belt even tighter. By the time she was through,
she had buckled the straightjacket tight enough that I could no long take
a deep breath.

But Zola wasn't through. She walked over to the table that contained a
dozen or more bottles of water, some empty and some full, and picked
up a rubber codpiece. She then gripped my cock and pulled it down
and back between my legs before she fitted the rubber device, that
looked like it had been made out of the same kind of rubber used to
make a toilet plunger, the plumber's helper, over my cock then, using
another belt that was dangling from the front of the jacket, brought the
narrow strap down through a grove in the codpiece, and back up
between my legs and buckled it to the lower back of the jacket.

"There, that will keep the straightjacket from riding up." She paused,
and then said, "You should feel proud. During the time my father
performed in a circus, he bought that straightjacket from a man who
claimed that Houdini had used it in one of his escapes." Well, that's
possible. Houdini had used hundreds of straightjackets in his escapes.

The Fireman appeared to be getting impatient. She walked to the wall
and selected a small whip with a dozen or more short thongs emerging
from the handle, and was how swinging the straps lightly against her
left hand. She walked back to The Rock and swung the whip sharply so
the thongs cut into The Rock's inner right thigh. The Rock let out a
muted moan, her blood instantly rushing to the surface of her skin
creating a fist-sized red patch on The Rock's leg. The Fireman
continued to work with the whip on The Rock's right leg, moving slowly
down her inner thigh toward her knee.

"Too slow. You're boring us with that thing," Zola said. "Here, use this
directly on her snatch."

The Fireman reached up and caught the long strip of rubber that Zola
tossed her.

"Oh, yeah," said The Fireman. "When I was down here strapping her to
the rack over three hours ago, I put a plug in her urethra then had her
drink four of these bottles before I strapped the ball in her mouth." The
Fireman gestured toward the group of plastic water bottles. Looking at
the bottles closer, each one appeared to hold a pint of water. So The
Fireman had The Rock consume a half gallon of water. Then I looked
down and saw the black plastic disk, about the size of a nickel, partly
hidden by the lips of her vulva. "If this doesn't make her pee herself,
nothing will."

Zola nodded. "You have to take a big piss right now, don't you Rock?"

The Rock shook her head affirming Zola's statement.

"Oh, yeah. I'll guarantee you she'll pee herself real good."

What The Fireman now had in her hands was a rubber exercise band
that my models sometimes used when posing. Only what I used were
loops. The one the Fireman was holding had been cut so it was a strip
that appeared to be a piece from a light-weight, easy-to-stretch band.

The Fireman wrapped one end of the band around her left hand and,
after straightening her left arm, positioned her fist slightly below The
Rock's crotch. The Fireman then stretched the rubber strip with her
right hand until the other end of the strip was opposite her right ear.
Next she played around, moving her left arm up and down, back and
forth, hovering over the sensitive mound of flesh. Only after she was
satisfied with her aim did she release the end of the strap.

The end of the rubber strap made a loud smacking noise as it
connected with The Rock's crotch and I watched as The Rock's body
involuntarily jumped and twitched on the X frame while she violently
shook her head in a back and forth motion silently expressing the word
"no" to the extreme pain she had just felt.

In seconds I could see the contact point, distinctly marked by a deep
red circle positioned precisely between her belly button and crotch.

"Oh, shit. That was too high. I'll have to try it again."

The second snap of the band, which was aimed even more
deliberately than the first, caused another red circle, lower than the first
but, in The Fireman judgement, still too high.

By this time The Rock's body was gleaming with perspiration that
flowed from her now matted hair down over her face and soaking the
cloth covering her eyes. At her breasts the flow of moisture was joined
by still more perspiration from the copious black hair that completely
filled her armpits.

"Sorry, Zola, I need some practice. I can’t work these things like I can a
whip."

Zola walked over to The Fireman and took the rubber strip from her.
"Here. Let me show you how."

Zola laid on her back on the floor, her body between the legs of the X.
She then aimed upward so when she released the end of the band, it
smacked straight up between The Rocks legs, causing The Rock to
again frantically jerk and convulse on the frame while at the same time
a muffled howl emerged from around the ball gag.

"That's how it's done," said Zola as she got to her feet. "That way you
hit the target dead on." Zola was obviously pleased with her handiwork.
"Okay," Zola said to The Fireman, "now try it the way I just showed you."

The Fireman, who had already decided that she didn't want to lay on
the cement floor as Zola had done, moved a rubber mat into place and
then slowly lay back in the same position as Zola. I watched as she got
a good grip on the band with her left hand and extended her arm until
her left fist was only inches from The Rock's swollen crotch. She pulled
the band down toward her face until the end of the band draped over
her nose and mouth. She was clearly dissatisfied with the tension in the
band. So the powerful Fireman dropped her left fist and wound the
band around her hand several more times to shorten it's length. Then
she straightened her left arm and got back into position.

This time the band stretched down to The Rock's knees. The Fireman
pulled harder with her right arm until she coaxed another foot of stretch
out of the band, which by this time was only a fraction of its original
diameter. The Fireman carefully lined up her left arm, pulled downward
a final couple of inches on the band with her right arm, and then let the
end loose.

Twack. The noise echoed through the room. The pain from the forceful
contact rippled through The Rock's body and further contorted her face,
while her hands flexed and clenched and her ankles and feet stretched
until her toes were doubled back into the board. She strained to
release her arms so she could clasp her hands over the unprotected
part of her body that had now become the target of unbelievably painful
abuse.

For some strange reason I can't explain, watching this was causing me
to become aroused and, without being aware I was getting aroused, I
felt my cock trying to erect and not being able to because of the rubber
device holding it securely between my legs. Uncomfortable at first, in
moments the discomfort turned to outright pain. While I had never
thought about it before, I was beginning to find out first hand that
watching a person absorb an infinite amount of pain was definitely
arousing.

"That's enough," Zola said. "I think The Rock could use a little rest."

"I think I'm getting the hang of this. Let me have one more try at her,"
The Fireman begged.

"Well, okay. Just once more. Then we take The Rock down as soon as
The Stallion gets here. Is that okay, Rock?"

The Rock slowly and reluctantly nodded her head yes.

Ka-blap. The final strike of the band was more than The Rock's body
could take. In a matter of seconds, The Fireman stood up, pulled the
mat out of the way, placed a large bucket between The Rock legs, and
removed the plug that was keeping the massive amount of piss from
escaping. The instant she pulled out the plug blocking The Rock's
pisshole, The Rock let loose with gusher of urine before slumping down
unconscious on the X.


To Be Continued


Read Chapter One
Read Chapter Two
Read Chapter Three
Read Chapter Four

© 2007 Robert White


Robert  lives by himself in the USA and likes to watch bondage
videos