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Trailings is a compilation of slices, brief views as though through a window. The focus is bondage. The medium is flesh. The first is bound in a hogtie, still clothed in jeans, sneakers and tight top. The ankles keep tension on a rope that is wound about her neck. She struggles, growing pale as time passes. A pulley is lowered. The rope that attaches her ankles to her neck is raised, creating a curved bow to her body and a faint blue about her eyes and mouth.

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What begins as your everyday abduction ends with the big stunner, a martyrdom replete with a crucifixion. She begins unhappy. Unwilling? On the floor of a straw-filled barn. She wears jogging clothes as though he caught her unaware. She struggles, her ankles and wrists locked into stocks made of metal rungs bolted through an old four-by-four. A feed sack has been shoved over her head. She moans and cries.

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YX starts as a fully bridled pony. She strikes a stunning pose in a cupless black corset, thick leather collar, clamps on each nipple attached with chain, and her head bridled with bit in mouth. She wears pony boots that bring her up on her toes. Her hands are in black leather mitts, the fingertip rings attached to the back of her collar then pulled forward to the front of her chest. Her elbows are strapped behind her back so that her arms are taut, thrusting her breasts forward. A pony tail, attached to a butt plug, hangs from her ass. Bells dangle from her crotch strap, jingling as she shuffles, much as tethered horses shuffle in place. She is tethered with chain to the arm of a post. The arm moves in a circle, somewhat like a lunge rope used to train and exercise horses.

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Her nose itched. Her hair, tangled and matted from how she fought so hard, had fallen across her face. The shackles, heavy and small for her wrists, bruised and pinched her skin each time the lorry hit another pothole. On purpose, she thought. The goddamn driver was getting off listening to them all, some crying, others senseless. Just screaming.

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I met him in his chat one night. He seemed so intense. I told him how I had watched him torture those poor young girls for such a long time, and how I had fantasies about suffering before him myself. I asked if I could come to see him, not knowing what might really lie in store for me. To my amazement he said yes! I grew wet just from the thought.

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Clear skin, tight body, dark pussy, and sumptuously large clit, 227 gets her introduction to bondage Insex-style along with flogging, caning, nipple clamps, and Mr. Pogo

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In Part 1 of her live feed, 922 completely looses it over what looks to be the simplest of scenes – a dunking in a cage. Nothing but a little water, right? Yet in part 2, tough girl takes a caning that would drive most men to their knees. She eats pain like candy, like she’s in love.

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Arabesque, released in the raw after az’s September, 2001 live feed, paints us a portrait of an untried, vulnerable az, willing to sustain extreme duress. The distilled Arabesque brings az to tears repeatedly as she’s taken through a series of ballet-like positions and exercises. After all, the arts are a form of torture, and in Arabesque, torture becomes a form of art.

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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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Impaled on a steel dildo, 1016 balances dangerously in a pair of high heels. With her face encased in a metal head cage and voluptuous breasts nearly bursting out of her business suit, she stands stiff at attention. Suffering almost motionlessly, she is filled with fear and trepidation. Just as she should be.

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