Insex Archives

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The memories stagger in upon me chaotically, as in a dream. Insects stinging, drawing blood. My hands, my breasts, trapped in unyielding metal. My movements secured with hooks buried deep inside my body: I am filled, I am owned. I walk like a marionette, with every step the hooks pull with cruelty inside my ass and my pussy. When I am released it is only to be stretched over a log and staked out in the grass; again I am left vulnerable, unable to protect myself from insects, biting my open body. My head secured in place with stakes and a gag. Shrieking as a worm is dangled over my face, crawling into my nose, squirming its slippery flesh over my tongue and my lips. And yet one memory towers above the rest of my torment; he called it the mala mansio…..

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Day Three of 411’s forty-eight hour feed begins with 411 looking sleepy. She sits in the chair, naked. The purple bruising on her breasts are clear reminders of what has gone before. Her pussy is sleepy also, a thin, relaxed strip of flesh.

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Here I was, back for yet another show. While I felt the usual excitement, I also felt quite nervous. There were so many of my past successful shows to ‘top.’ Pd heightened my nervousness by locking me into this complicated metal-bondage setup and torturous metal boots. Maybe it wasn’t so bad though…at least for this show I would be relieved of the anxiety that I usually felt during the beginning of a show. Normally, I think about all those watching and it makes me fidgety.

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Stocks weighing heavily on my neck and shoulders, I dance nervously against the dungeon’s brick wall. Today I am a prisoner in this new place. My first sentence: three hours of torturous anticipation.

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When I arrived the day of my live feed I was sick with nervousness – it wasn’t a bad feeling – but as the day went on I was completely taken over by my nerves. I had no idea what to expect. When I finally got dressed, my ankles and wrists bound in metal and my head in the metal mask I became very calm. I stopped thinking about everything else and just listened to myself breath – and tried to be aware of all the different sensations – good or bad that I was feeling.

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The farmer leads in the last of his stock and checks his herd for the night. All five are locked into metal containment. Crickets chirp. Girls moan. Oh the country life.

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After submitting to PD, 49 reveals her naughty side, showing off her own skills with rope and whip. Bent over with arms bound to legs, 49 waddles around the studio, lead by a rope running through her crotch. Balled up on the ground, her ass and pussy are offered perfectly for a leather paddle…

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Forget sun and sand and swimsuits and cheesy bars and sleazy boys- all I wanted for my Spring Break was to soak in some suffering and sadism. So, after zooming through my last exam and tossing it on the professor’s desk an hour early, I grabbed my bags and bolted to the airport to get my Insex fix.

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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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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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