62 returns for a Live Feed, her delicious body, her nipples and cunt. She likes older men, likes to call them Uncle or Daddy. And. . .well, this hot little orgasmic wonder gives as good as she gets. 62 is a whiny, bitchy little fussbudget. It’s PD versus the brat.
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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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65 wants it all, bondage, pain, and submission. It’s the dream of a lifetime. She’s heard about Insex, its dark reputation. But she can see it’s the real thing. Shackled to a bed frame in the middle of a hayfield, she’s cold from the drizzle. PD gags her with a handful of hay. She’s got a pussy full of grass. For 65, it’s only the beginning.
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Jenny, young, pretty, and bored with life out in the sticks, hitchhikes her way into trouble. She gets a ride from Joe, who persuades her to stop by his place. Maybe, he says, she’d be interested in his “hobby.” Jenny admits to being a curious girl. Before the day is out, Jenny learns more than she ever wanted to know about Joe’s hobby, a preoccupation with girls, pain, rope, and strangulation.
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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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Her desire is to please. To serve her master, to follow his commands. Her leather tail wags delightedly at the sound of his praise. In her live feed from December 2000, 1016 demonstrates her prowess as man’s best friend. A well-trained puppy, she would make any master proud.
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I kneeled in front of him and offered myself. He didn’t ask me to do it. It was my idea. But after that, after I signed the contract, he blindfolded me. Then he put me in a car and drove me somewhere. When he took me out, he led me through a door, then down stairs. The air was cool, damp. It smelled old. “Take off your clothes.” His voice echoed like we were in a big room. Chills ran up my arms and sides as I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it at my feet. “Your skirt.” I loved his voice, his touch, his way with me. I wanted him to squeeze my breasts, tug them, slap them back and forth. I wanted him to pinch my nipples. If only he’d push me to the floor, hold my hands over my head, and force his cock into me…..
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I sneaked a look at the monitor and saw myself…crucified there, vulnerable and humiliated. It looked beautiful. I couldn’t believe that was me up there. The hope that the audience was enjoying the scene was the main thought going through my head. Other than the pressure on my feet from the pipes, the position was not too difficult to endure. Pd knew this, and decided to make the scene more intense. He sprayed my body with water, which felt quite cold. I imagined little droplets of water assaulting my body. Amazing how such a simple thing can be such torture…..
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810’s October 15th live feed begins with the young, vibrant, flaming red-head languishing blindfolded and hog-tied on the studio floor. 101, suspended in a cage, watches in the background as PD cuts off his victim’s dress and teases her pale, tender skin with his scissors. After loosening her ropes, he instructs her to finish undressing. Still blindfolded, she removes her underwear and cotton socks……
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Master is always full of surprises. Like tonight, when he comes home with a large, ripe pumpkin in hand. “Trick or treat?” he whispers devilishly, pulling harshly at my long ponytail. Gagged already, I shrug my shoulders, as if I have any choice in the matter. As if I ever have a choice when he’s in this kind of mood.
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Dairy available here.
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