Insex Archives

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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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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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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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There’s certain things. I like certain things. I’m not supposed to, but I do. I like to pretend I’m a little girl. And there’s other things I like to pretend too, about men and about them wanting me in a way that’s wrong. Everybody says it’s wrong. But I like it. My boyfriend knows the way I like to play at being a little girl. So he bought me a T-shirt that says kittie on it. And he watches me from his car, waiting until I’m done with class. Sometimes he follows me home. I see him other times too. Watching.

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A dark beauty undresses herself in an amazying display of flexibility. Her clothes come off as she magicly unzips her pants. He tickles her foot as she sits spread eagle on the floor the while a sturdy metal spreader bar is wedged between her legs. Her tits dangle in front of her and she thinks “wow, piece of cake” until a yellow cloth is stuffed in her full mouth. The gag is secured with tape around her head and straight black hair. He fondles her jiggly tits. Mr pogo gets a turn at her juicy wet pussy, fucking her unforgivingly.

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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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The choice was hers. He asked flat out: would she accept his ties, his tortures? And she did, signed herself away. Just one weekend – how bad could it be? He places a collar on her neck, orders her to undress. Hands cuffed, she struggles to wriggle out of her jeans. Kneeling, she presents her smooth bare ass. He removes her shirt and binds her arms. Willingly, she submits as the ropes pinch harshly into her skin.

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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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When I went to New York for my First visit, I knew I was in for an exciting time. I come form a small town in Texas and had barley visited any place except for the occasional party or to go to a club. Mainly I stayed at home with my two horses and my dogs. I had dreamed of going to a big city and leaving the great state of Texas to broaden my horizons. So when I received a trip to the Big Apple for a present form my daddy. I was thrilled. He looked a little tense about me leaving. When I gushed and told him how happy I was, daddy just looked proud…

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She must have gotten caught sneaking into the linen closet with the butler one too many times. In this live feed from January 12, 2002, Matt, debuting as an Insex dom, sufficiently punishes az for her crime. Leather tight around her neck, az, clad in a frilly French maid’s uniform, anxiously awaits her fate. Giving her relief from her torturous six-inch heels, Matt orders his sexy servant to clean the floor. With wrists and ankles cuffed, she waddles around on hands and knees as she sweeps and mops the floor, then scrubs it with a brush in her mouth. Once she has finished with her cleaning, she is allowed to rest on the floor. She languishes in extreme bondage positions for the remainder of the pre-show.

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