331 is pushed to the limit in her first live feed. Strapped into a metal chair and straitjacket, she stews in her helplessness. A leather hood is pulled over her head, leaving mouth exposed for a pump gag and tube to be inserted. Water drips down at a constant rate, forcing 331 to drink or drown.
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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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Ah the great outdoors – the chirping birds, the clean fresh air, the bound naked girls screaming through cloth-stuffed mouths. In this article, yx, 101, and 411 spend a relaxing day in the country, bonding with nature in a whole new way. At daybreak, poor yx is tied to a cross. Legs spread, arms outstretched, crotch resting on a sharp wooden block, she suffers beautifully as the pain quickly intensifies.
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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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Her soft flesh is clay to be molded by his skillful hands. Her cries are music to his ears. Her torture is his desire. And his pleasure is her pain. So he covers her pretty, young face in rubber hoods and wraps ropes tight around her limbs. He lifts her to his lap, pulls her close to tug at her stiff nipples and fondle her tenderized cunt. Then he makes her scream, whip lashing hard against glossy, firm skin, breasts bouncing, faceless head shaking hysterically.
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My dreams curdle the night, the heavy, wet November night. Outside, the rustle of corn in the fields, silage of dreams, of a man’s want. And inside, my boner poking up against the sheet. Lightening far off, breaking out the night. The whispering of the house, conversations of ghosts. And the howls. That pack of dogs is come sniffing around the barn again. They always know when I got me another girl. I got me two of them a couple days ago, their pussies ripe and glittery-wet like jewels, nipples as tight and hard as nuggets, cold enough to ripple the skin. November’s got a chill around these parts. When a girl shivers it bones me up fat and hard, strong enough to squirt…
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Bound and half-strangled, 912 stews in a sexual smog. She’s fucked, spanked, flogged, ass-fucked, and whipped in this dark rape fantasy. 912 at her best, drenched with sexual want. She dangles by her neck, already dreamy, half-gone. Her dress is filmy. You see everything. And she is filmy, transparent, as though she’s draining off slowly, and you’re drinking her, taking your time. You pull the rope tighter, so that it digs into her throat. You cover her nose and mouth. She fights for air. Dropping her to the floor, you drag her by the hair, cowing her with a cattle prod. A tray with condoms, dildo, ass plug, and lube is set beside her. She’s forced to plug herself even though she’s shackled. It’s all for you, for your enjoyment. She fucks herself. She’s bent over a stool and spanked. Tears fall. Her mouth is stuffed and taped. She’s spanked harder.
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John never did get it. The sexual stuff, I mean. Like how I wanted him to tie me up. How I wanted to be helpless. I wanted him to use me, use my “holes”, all of them, for his gratification. Put anything you want inside of me, I said to him. Treat me dirty. When we first got married, he tried a few things with me. But then he got disgusted, saying I was crazy. A pervert. John has no idea what I’m doing this weekend. He’s gone for three days on a business trip. I’m on the train to New York.
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Dairy available here.
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