Kirby sitting beside a table, fondling ropes, expectant. Kirby locked in metal box. Kirby is a breast, a leg, a tongue, some appendage tied off outside a metal box and tortured.

Anna exudes innocent confidence until the rope tightens about her neck. She wilts. The hogtie is unsparing. She whines. He makes it tighter.
Kirby is dragged from the box and bound. Suspended by her hair.

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Edited footage of the inimitable and effervescent spacegirl during her unannounced Live Feed as she confronts a host of torments – everything from spiders to face and head torture to way-over-the-edge suffocation. A cattle prod zeroes in on her ears and pussy, producing the telltale spacegirl screech. At the end, a cattle prod and a vibrator are used simultaneously. No doubt about it. The girl’s a screamer.

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If the first half of 912’s Live Feed was nuclear, the second half is The Apocalypse as PD lets loose a firestorm of whipping and caning. An inverted suspension exacts a tremendous toll on 912. She faints as her next trial begins. But that doesn’t stop 912. She’s strapped into a diabolical machine (lying down, thank God) and forcibly fucked by the Pink Horror. It’s a Feed to end all Feeds.

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211 visits Insex and receives the ultimate stress test, left to languish, not allowed to come, caned, fucked, hot wax, the onerous wall of bifurcation, and drowning. She goes from ultimate boredom to terror. She seems to prefer the terror. At least it holds her interest.

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There’s something timeless about 831. Something that makes you want to fuck her, but not right away. It’s slow, this relishing of her.  You crave her craving. You itch to cause her the slightest little pain, as a beginning, as a way to shred her, as a way to savor each small, essential piece.

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Bound with sharp-edged cable cords to a high metal chair, cowgirl is a living, breathing statue, a monument to desire. Platinum blonde with ruby red lips contrasting her pearly skin, she is eroticism encapsulated. Throughout the three-hour pre-feed PD hovers around her like a shark eagerly circling its prey.

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202 takes on tortures ancient and modern in her debut live feed.  Tied into a chair, the elegantly attired 21 year-old is presented to the members at the start of a three-hour long pre-show.  Unable to leave her alone for long, PD and Matt begin tormenting her within minutes, shoving a gag in her mouth and controlling her breath with a plastic bag.

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So kind of PD to share his toys. In her livefeed from November 2000, yx is passed around, used and abused, but never broken.

Seated on a chair, she nervously wrings her unbound hands; eyes dart anxiously about the room. Approaching from behind, PD pulls a leather belt tight around her neck and orders his hapless victim to undress.

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When violet is wheeled in to the studio she is all taped up, body in black and head in white tape. Pd unreavells his present and reveales a cute girl in skirt, shirt and smilie socks. Her hands firmly locked behind her back with hand cuffs.

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She tells me things about herself, her voice dreamy, like it’s separated out, but soft. Nothing like a man’s voice, all muscle and bone. A girl’s voice is cool water. It’s softened thighs. It’s press of breasts, like pillows, the smell of crushed clover.

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