Shortly after Linda had been subjected to a forced orgasm, another young woman, this time in Italy, was being treated much less kindly.

Angelica was dragged from her closet and taken to the room where she had been hung by her ankles for three long, very uncomfortable hours the day before. This time she was hung by her wrists, leaving her toes several inches off the floor. Ropes were then tied to her ankles and threaded through rings attached to opposite walls. When they pulled on those, her legs were spread widely apart. For a little while they admired her curvy form in its strained condition, but eventually had to attend to the task at hand. While one managed the camera, the other took a stance directly before her. In his hand was a belt; just a simple man's belt of brown leather, about two inches wide and held doubled over with the buckle in his hand.

The dark-haired beauty stared at that belt in disbelief. It was obvious to her fear-filled mind that with her legs spread wide, her most personal and sensitive place was an available target. She began to whine even before his hand swung back and then upward. Just as the belt impacted squarely upon her sex, a flash went off and the event was recorded. The camera did not, however, catch her scream. Perhaps they had misjudged the degree of pain such a whipping would create, for them were both surprised by the loudness of her reaction. The way her body jerked and tried to twist was nice to see, as was the look of shock and pain on her pretty face.

"No!" she cried at them. "NO!"

But the evil man was already lining up the belt for a second strike directly between her legs. She tried to twist her hips away, but with the ropes holding her legs too tautly she could do nothing but watch as the belt went back then became a blur as it swung forward. Her cry was even louder than before. The flash went off upon impact, but this time catching not the strike zone, but her facial reaction. There could be no mistaking the pain upon those lovely features, or the fear in her eyes.

"Let's get a few more," the man with the whip said, "just to make sure we get a good photo."

As the belt again came up and smacked into the soft flesh, her head jerked backwards and the scream was cut off in the middle. Then her head sagged forward and hung there.

"I think she's fainted," the man with the camera said.

"Yeah. Maybe I'm hitting her a little too hard."

The first man was moving around, snapping a couple photos showing Angelica hanging limp in her bonds. "Guess we got enough," he said. "Alberto only sends one photo a day."

"Just when I was getting started. Maybe I could whip her a few more time, just to let her know we mean business?"

"I think she knows. Anyway, it's not as much fun if they don't react."

"Oh, I'll get her to react." Leaving the room, he returned a short time later with a bucket of cold water that he threw into her face. Her eyes opened, seemed a bit confused, but then settled on his face. "Please don't hurt me..." she said, meekly.

"Got to. Boss says so. You better brace yourself and try not to faint. I'll just bring you around again."

He stepped back and eyed the dripping wet nudity. With a vicious smile, he swung the belt underhanded and up into her sex. Angelica screamed again, tried to jerk her hands out of the ropes, and then glared pure hatred at the grinning man with the belt. So he swung again, just to listen to and enjoy her scream.

When he had completed a full ten count of those vicious blows to her sex, he rested a moment. She was sobbing and moaning.

"Hurt?" he asked.

Again that looked of pure hatred. "Try it for yourself, asshole!"

He laughed. "How about another dozen or so, bitch?"

She tried to spit in his face.

"Hey, how about me?" The other man had put down the camera. "I'd like a few swings up there, too."

With a grin, he handed the belt to the cameraman and stepped back.

Angelica was shaking her head slowly and moaning, "Nooooo..."

The impact was loud, as was the scream. If looks could kill, that man would have dropped dead on the spot from the one she gave him when the shock had died down enough for her to stop screaming.

Again he brought the belt up. And again. On the fourth swing, she fainted again.

"Maybe we should stop now," the first man said. "Don't want to damage the merchandise."

"Hell, the Boss, he don't care. He wants this bitch hurt. You do know who she is, don't you?"

"No, not really."

He was told. "Raszini's kid, huh? No wonder the Boss wants the photos. He's sending them to Raszini, isn't he?"

"Damned right!"

"Well, I guess we should put her away for now. I wonder what the Boss will want us to do to her tomorrow?"

"Something more personal, I hope. Something up close and very personal."

"Yeah..."