Insex Archives

Welcome to the Source

Bj is hogtied on the floor, struggling in a leather hood. Hands are taped, breathing is heavy from her efforts to get loose. Pd lifts her on a box and inspects the goods. When the hood comes off, we see her mouth is taped. Her nice long hair is tied to her toes. Her perky pierced tits are revealed from her summer dress. As soon as her ass is inspected a cane comes out and tests her responses. The tape on her mouth is replaced by an inflatable gag. Now it’s time to see how strong her hair is. Pd ties it to a pulley and lifts her straight up in the air! Her legs spread by a bamboo pole, she is dangling in midair while the cane explores her body.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

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.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

I sometimes like to flaunt my girl-ness. My pleated skirt bounces as I walk, swinging and swaying and hinting just enough at what lays beneath. I flaunt my strength, flexing my girl-muscles, the control I imagine I have on the people that I walk past. I approach the building that is now so familiar to me, waiting for the elevator that always takes forever to arrive– I never saw what hit me.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

Her soft flesh is clay to be molded by his skillful hands. Her cries are music to his ears. Her torture is his desire. And his pleasure is her pain. So he covers her pretty, young face in rubber hoods and wraps ropes tight around her limbs. He lifts her to his lap, pulls her close to tug at her stiff nipples and fondle her tenderized cunt. Then he makes her scream, whip lashing hard against glossy, firm skin, breasts bouncing, faceless head shaking hysterically.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives

The choice was hers. He asked flat out: would she accept his ties, his tortures? And she did, signed herself away. Just one weekend – how bad could it be? He places a collar on her neck, orders her to undress. Hands cuffed, she struggles to wriggle out of her jeans. Kneeling, she presents her smooth bare ass. He removes her shirt and binds her arms. Willingly, she submits as the ropes pinch harshly into her skin.

Want to see more? Log in to InsexArchives