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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koko is already tied to a chair, when suddenly she hears the screams of another woman. PD uncovers sahara’s head, which is locked into the wall of bifurcation. PD asks koko if she sucks cock. Whenever koko answers ‘no,’ sahara receives a nasty shock. As PD grows more demanding, things go worse and worse for the two girls. Eventually, koko is somewhat cowed. Sahara, however, is completely and infinitely – fucked…
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1030 and 123 are friends. And as good friends do, they share all great things in life. 123 has been to insex before, so it’s only natural that she arranges for 1030 to share in the experience! A huge cloth-gag is put in 1030’s mouth and she is dressed up in rope. Feet tightly bound, hands behind her back, a chain holding her up. Pd pulls her tits out of her shirt and stands her up. A good tit-slapping gets her in the mood for what’s to come…
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The luna moth is pale green and bears two long tails on either side, luminous and frail. A multitude of moths will come to lights when the night is dark, but the luna moths always caught his eye. They fly in search of the moon, and love, or more likely lust, of an entomological kind. Grey speckled spiders as big as a man’s hand will construct large webbed orbs near bright sources of light. We think of spiders as ugly as unkind, as murderers who eat out their prey from the inside.
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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 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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I keep to myself mostly. Don’t make a habit of poking my nose around where it don’t belong. But I was out hunting squirrel one day and my eyes about popped out of my head seeing what I saw coming down that old logging road. There’s a guy named Joe lives way back up the mountain. He’s never been much for socializing. But in the woods that day, there he was, driving his pickup on the logging road. And damned if there weren’t three girls tied behind that truck buck naked, like they was livestock. He had their necks all yoked together. Their hands were tied behind their backs. They had big old pieces of wood tied in their mouths so they couldn’t make much of a sound.
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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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Dairy available here.
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