Syria assumed he wanted her to capture the scars, but when she lifted her camera, he waved his hand at her and shook his head. Apparently this show was just for her.
Syria stepped back. The shoot was for her. To let her see how he worked. She burned inside, unable to even imagine such a life. No way.
Everyone turned to the hall as Elise and the boy helped Aliara into the room.
Her outfit was breathtaking. The sheer pink corset pressed her body into a shiny cocoon, her girl-like breasts pressed into a tender cleavage above it. She still wore the strange silver ring around her neck.
The fine-strung thong was mostly invisible, just a touch of pink between her legs, drawing attention more than concealing anything. The shoes, though, were not something you could walk in. Aliara took each step with great pain, her feet straight up from the floor. The boy kept his eyes on the ground as he and Elise moved the girl toward the set.
“Pick up your dress and move away, Malin,” Erik instructed. “Put on the slave attire.”
Malin’s eyes lit up at this instruction and she snatched up the gold dress.
Aliara watched the eager girl move toward the wardrobe. “Already, Erik? I’m not even gone yet before you hand my chains to my replacement.”
“It’s just for size, my love,” Erik said. “We’ll see if it suits her.”
He took Aliara’s hand as though she were a princess. Elise and the boy backed away as he led her to the center of the set in small, careful steps.
Syria snapped shots as they moved across the drop, not sure what else to do. Some power shift was occurring, but she didn’t quite get it. She supposed that maybe the submissive had done her time as the toy, and she could move up to the more exalted position of slave. When Erik turned Aliara in a slow circle, his hand holding hers above her head, Syria could see her back was smooth and unscarred.
The pair danced together in a graceful movement, agonizingly slow due to the heels. Erik turned Aliara back into him, balancing her on his arm as she leaned with an arched back to look up at him, not unlike a ballerina might do with her cavalier. The shots were gorgeous and arresting, the near-naked wraith in the arms of the handsome businessman, the sort of scene that you could imagine in a painting or on the cover of a book.#p#分页标题#e#
Erik was more affected by this girl, his jaw tight as he gazed down on her. His hand moved to her waist, where it tightened against the corset. “You will be missed,” he said, and lowered his lips to her exposed throat just above the silver ring. Aliara’s eyes closed and a tear squeezed out from her eye. Syria framed the shot tightly, Erik’s profile against the girl, her uplifted face, and the sadness of their goodbye.
Malin came up behind her, and Erik straightened from his position, the moment lost. Syria turned, and stifled a gasp at the transformation. The luxurious hair was now in a thick braid, her makeup deepened at her eyes and cheeks and lips to something dangerous, powerful, and dark.
Her neck was encased in a leather collar with four metal links. Three broad straps came down from it, one on either side of her breasts, the other down the middle. They attached to a belt that fit low on her hips. Below the belt hung several metal rings. Brown boots came up over her knee. Otherwise, she was exposed.
Elise walked up and attached a silver chain to either side of her neck. Malin grasped a chain in each hand and whirled them so that they wrapped around her wrists and up her arm in an incredible show of dexterity.
“You’ve been practicing,” Erik said. He let go of Aliara. “Let’s get the two of you together one last time.” He make sure Aliara was well balanced on her shoes and stepped away.
Malin covered the distance to the fragile girl with a menacing stride. At first Aliara stood straight and firm, but as Malin let the chain slide over her hand to the floor, the smaller girl began to shrink back.
Syria snapped shots, unsure what was happening, or what she’d gotten involved in. Malin looked like she was about to devour Aliara whole. Was it an act? Or was this some sort of ritual as a slave passed her position to another?
Erik stood next to her now, poised and calm. Syria’s heart was thundering like a freight train, but she didn’t dare ask him about anything. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Malin lifted her arm in the air, her breast stretched high. Syria found the fear working to heighten the sexual tension in her own body. She tried to concentrate on the job, but something about the power struggle was moving her.
Malin wrapped the chain around the girl, jerking her toward her. Aliara couldn’t hold her position in the difficult shoes and began to crumple. Malin caught her, bending to lift her legs. Together, they moved to the floor, the chains falling loose.