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The cage is His toy box and i am his toy. He keeps me in there to watch me languish as body weakens and mind breaks down. In the cage there is nowhere to hide. Every part is vulnerable and exposed. My bare skin presses up against the cold metal bars and my butt sticks through a gap in the floor. This is how he likes me, with everything accessible. I like it too, when he touches me and sticks things inside. But he only does this when he wants. For me there is nothing to do but wait. I hate waiting. Especially when I don’t know what it is I am waiting for…

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She dresses like a whore for him.
She is naked yet clothed in her femininity.
She hates what he does to her,
you can see the torture in her eyes.
He doesn’t ask for much from her,
just to suffer quietly in front of him.
She squirms to keep her sanity
and struggles with the ties of agony he has put upon her.

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PD goes at spacegirl with a cattle prod, and in the next moment he buries a vibrator in her pussy.  Bound to the pink chair for the duration of an informal live feed, spacegirl is forced to take everything PD metes out as he drags her back and forth over that rich and delicious edge, the divide between pleasure and pain. It starts innocently enough, with spacegirl in shackles and chains and working on a computer. The chat voice sputters in and out. Soon enough, spacegirl is bound to the chair and gagged with hard plastic tubing held in place by a metal band. A bag tied over her head has her measuring her breath as PD binds her breasts.

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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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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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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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For me, the anticipation had been building. I had, for so long, been eagerly awaiting this moment when PD would once again take my wrists and so nimbly apply them with rope. As he continued the binding by tying my elbows, and subsequently securing my arms to the column in an intense, backward stretch I could feel the excitement begin to overwhelm me. The sensation of moisture that had been accumulating inside me since we began had now escalated to where I could feel it begin to run down my leg….

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I walked in not knowing what to really expect. I had no experience as far as bondage, suspension, and torture was concerned. As soon as I was getting ready for the show, I felt my body start to go through a nervous anxiety attack. As soon as I was tied up for the opening act I had become immune to my surroundings. The whole time during the show I was in anticipation to what would happen next. As soon as it was time for the hair suspension, I got sick in my stomach. For I did not know whether or not I could pull it off again. I really wanted to make everybody pee in their pants from excitement and amazement. But I couldn’t bear to think of my entire weight being held by my hair alone. As soon as I was being pulled up, my heart picked up speed and my hands were clammy. I was forcing myself to go further and I was concentrating on anything but the pain I felt. I kept giving it a little more until my neck started to ache…

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Her Master sent her to Insex for some intensive training. With golden blonde hair and an angelic smile, she looked so sweet and pure. But beneath that cute exterior lay an astoundingly strong, brave woman driven by her own desire. In the live feed from November 18, 2001, 1030 stoically accepts all of PD’s tortures, confronts her fears, and suffers gracefully throughout. Locked down to the studio floor in metal stocks, 1030 first receives a lesson in patience and discomfort. She fidgets uneasily before the cameras, switching between the 3 positions that her bondage allows.

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