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Bj is hogtied on the floor, struggling in a leather hood. Hands are taped, breathing is heavy from her efforts to get loose. Pd lifts her on a box and inspects the goods. When the hood comes off, we see her mouth is taped. Her nice long hair is tied to her toes. Her perky pierced tits are revealed from her summer dress. As soon as her ass is inspected a cane comes out and tests her responses. The tape on her mouth is replaced by an inflatable gag. Now it’s time to see how strong her hair is. Pd ties it to a pulley and lifts her straight up in the air! Her legs spread by a bamboo pole, she is dangling in midair while the cane explores her body.

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He thinks of the Insex set as an autopsy room, where bodies are laid out, sliced, and cracked open. He thinks of the show as vivisection, as a method of discovery, every ounce of female flesh – a book. And her hair falling down about her throat, her painted lips and eyes, the endless fabric of young skin, her limbs, fingers, hair, cunt – a library. He studies her. He tests her endurance during the first hour with metal, the next hour with wrap after wrap of rope, and for the third hour, rubber. He weighs her down, ties her body into knots, encases her, then relents. After he is finished with the first torments, he begins.

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He spied her, hot and young and rash, And trussed her, goose-like, hands and feet. He taped her mouth and ripped her dress To probe and carve her like a meat. Driven like half-maddened beasts, The bulk of men act out of haste. But slowly binding her, he thinks That Girl is an acquired taste.

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A friend gave me his phone number weeks ago. “Call him. Just call him,” she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. “Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all.” My friend shrugged. “Call him,” she said again. I was the youngest of three girls. Growing up, I’d watched my sisters and their boy friends. Clumsy kisses in the barn. Hands groping, pushed away, more groping. I had dreams, murky pictures in my head. And I’d fumbled with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my fumbling increasing my longing. Like cocks were doing now.

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Gagged and spread-eagled by a harsh metal spreader bar, her juicy pussy looks delious and inviting as PD straddles her face. Cyd wants to play too so a coin is tossed to decide this helpless victims fate.  Who gets her ass or who gets her mouth. One dildo goes in her ass and one in her cunt. The hard black cocks fuck her mercilessly. Rhythmically in her pussy and deep down into her throat. Her holes are fucked hard and deep. It almost sounds as if she purrs like a little kitten, while the two pervs get off on her discomfort. Not one, but two mr pogo’s invade her private sex holes by surprize, forcefully entering her tight flesh. Her ass gets fucked slowly while het mouth is occupied by the other black invader. A hard deep push makes her scream. She was not ready for this.

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Endurance is my master’s pleasure for a carnival of nasty delights. My submission almost defies life. To submit is to ignore that voice inside your head that is urging you to run out of the room. And it takes all my strength not to run.

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My hands were secured behind me and I was placed in the box with my head protruding through the top. I saw the plastic bubble shaped cover that Pd was going to put over my head, and that was when the nervousness started. Hmmm, I thought, there isn’t much room in that cover at all for the bugs to run around…they’re going to be near my head no matter what.

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I sometimes like to flaunt my girl-ness. My pleated skirt bounces as I walk, swinging and swaying and hinting just enough at what lays beneath. I flaunt my strength, flexing my girl-muscles, the control I imagine I have on the people that I walk past. I approach the building that is now so familiar to me, waiting for the elevator that always takes forever to arrive– I never saw what hit me.

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Like a diapered newborn in her highchair, 412 fidgets restlessly, anxious to come out and play. Metal restraining her absolutely around the neck and wrists, she fixes her makeup chained to the station. Metal boots tightened at the bottom crush her finely arched feet, causing her large eyes to glaze with tears. With a rubber brake laced over neck and mouth, she is forced to gulp water that drips into her mouth through a long tube.

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I woke up sore and aching. My whole body was a conductor for pain. I reflected on the events of last night. It had started out as fun actually. My school girl clothes put me in the mood for mischief, and I shuffled around, contorting my body and trying to get out of PD’s ropes. PD stood in the corner, laughing at my foolhardy attempts and I grew ever more determined to work my way out. Every success was countered by PD with an adjustment, a larger knot, a rope around my neck pulled continuously higher. Still I kept trying at the ropes, pushing and working at the knots, giggling all the way. PD finally made me sit on my knees and pulled the rope taut. Now I had to struggle to deal with the pressure on my knees, which were quickly becoming sore. I hadn’t realized how much energy I had expended in trying to get out of PD’s ropes earlier, I was getting really tired really fast. I tried to sit back on my feet to relieve my knees, this position put a lot of strain on my thighs, and tightened the rope on my neck further,but I held on…

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