The show is over, PD and i got some much needed rest. i couldnt stop thinking about what had happened to me. And after a wonderful nights sleep, i woke up still thinking about it. That had to be the most intense, thrilling experience of all my life, every single moment was new for me. i told you all how nervous and scared i was getting just before the show.
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Feels weird to wear this uniform again. Like I should be back in high school smoking cigarettes at the gas station before practice and teasing the boys by “accidentally” forgetting to cross my legs. In a way, this show is like tryouts.
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elizabeth, all of one hundred pounds and quite a lot of it her breasts, is bound and carried down into the basement. As soon as the hood is removed from her head, she sees 912 standing on a large block of ice, her arms strapped behind her back, a chain leading to her neck.
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It was the ultimate gag: five needles puncturing her luscious lips with thread laced around, locking them in place. Bound securely with mouth sewn shut, 731’s fate was sealed
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From sheer sadism and rabid fucking to the tenderness and affection that a woman gives, AZ and star pass through layers, each leading the other into high crime. AZ, alternately brutal and soft, makes you want to promise everything.
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411’s 48-hour live feed from May 17-19 in 2002 is titled The Chair because the centerpiece (secondary to 411, of course) is a metal chair upon which she experiences torture and pleasure for the next 48 hours.
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411 survived many trials and tribulations over a 48 hour period, all in a specially-made chair. Day Number Two was the longest of the three-day ordeal. She shows tons of stamina, her remarkable easy-going nature weathering it all.
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912 explodes onto Insex, sustaining electricity, breast suspension, and a savage caning of her double D cup breasts. She begins strapped to a chair, as though prepped for an electrocution. She wears a red sweater, red panties, red heels and matching red fingernails. The straps above and below her well-endowed breasts accentuate their predominance.
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The night started with perhaps the worst audio torture I’ve ever had to endure, the chorus of Air Supply’s “All out of Love” repeated over and over again. At first it was just annoying, then it got monotonous, and then it was downright torture. I tried wiggling my arms, stomping my feet and made several attempts to dislodge the headphones from my ears.
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In a room full of crew members, other Insex models and viewers anxiously awaiting my show, I felt completely alone atop the barrel as PD tied the second and final knot of the cloth around my face. When PD took away my sight the room went silent; there was no show. I was in a dark room alone, insignificant and forgotten.
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Dairy available here.
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