Release Year: 2017
Cast: Sierra Cirque
Video language: English
O.T. is like a high level fashion designer of the BDSM world. Sierra Cirque is his model and she is going to display the newest line in bondage for him. Steel cable is going to have all the tops and bottoms talking. Lacking the soft warmth of string, cable binds without comfort, holding tightly and digging into the skin whenever an unruly submissive gets it into her mind to try to struggle too much.
It doesn’t just make for beautiful adornment, either. Cables are as effective as canes when it comes to leaving marks on this beauty’s body. A small loop stings like hell as it makes welts across her ass and thighs. They match the bruises from the canes and restraining cables perfectly, turning her body into a canvas that will display his art even when she has gone home.
Shit, now he is fondling me — I mustn’t show that I am scared. I don’t dare say anything that will excite him — I have to play along. If I confront him, and it is my worst fear, I will have no place to go.
Her condition has become more ingrained. She has been in the ass bar ring for 48 hrs. I took her arms out of play by shackling them to the back of the ass ring. Her ankles are shackled together, thus, her legs can afford her little balance. She is made into a crunch position and her only mobility is waddling on her ass. I am delighted that the monitoring system is fully implemented; now I can watch her from anywhere.
This is insufferable! My ass and back are constantly aching. How long have I been like this? I fear if I try to recline I will fall over and not be able to sit up again. I have shown no complaint or resistance to his machinations — I dare not. I think this strategy is working as he has not threatened me. He lavishly enjoys the perversity of this bondage and the way he manipulates me. It dominates my mind. I am utterly dependent on him. My isolation has turned my mind to only him — I look forward to his return, though this thought is abhorrent!
I am famished and thirsty — clearly, this is intentional, if I had to subscribe some purpose to this madness I suspect he wishes to control me in a more sophisticated manner; something beyond make, coercion and sex. He obviously is maniacal and highly organized in in the methods he employs to terrorize me. This infernal bar he has locked on my head goes to the back of my tongue and has begun to rust from my saliva. The taste of iron is the only thing that wets my palate. The drooling is constant — I am so thirsty that I tip my head back and try to swallow it.
This discharge is not the worst though. Desperate to relieve myself I wiggled over to the iron grill he has chained me to and expelled a shit through the grate. I piss on the floor boards. Though it is a torturous effort I discovered that I can roll onto my back and then my side. This has to be positioned carefully for I can then use my tongue to lick up the piss.
Leep is fitful and only possible after the exhaustion of constant shifting around and adjusting the stones that are my bed. It feels like my body has been covered in blows – the rocks are bruising me. Its getting colder. The sun is lower; It beams through a window and illuminates the details of what hovers above me. I am one of those web bound carcasses. As it darkens, the chirps and squishes begin — shadowy flutters of darting fantoms swirl above me. They seem to be attracted by my presence — often diving at me and bombing me with their droppings.
The smell grows fouler by the day; my toilet is my bed. In the beginning he would come and stand over me; staring, pissing, playing with himself. Today, when he brought me the slop, he was wearing a gas mask.
The everyday chores of the grounds are much more interesting as I allow my mind to wander to that creature entombed in my barn. It is less distracting of late because of the stink, and I now must face the task of cleaning it. I have prepared a platform based on the designs I have seen at the county fair; A grooming table that holds her wrist and ankles so she is on all fours.
For days I have been content with just knowing that it was stored there. To compensate and motivate the chore of cleaning it, I want to take it to another level.
I am going to bifurcate her — two for one. At the head I will have her do makeup. The cock sucking will have a classier feel. At the tail, a machine will soften and swell her gash for my cock.
Something is up; he’s standing over me holding the black head bag and that terrible pole that locks around my neck. He orders me to role over onto my stomach — I know this drill, so I put my hands behind my back immediately. (Reaching through the grate he locks the shackles together.) He slides the bag on my head, yanks the chain tight and locks it.
I hear the muffled sound of the grate scraping on the concrete. He yanks me out of the hole by my neck. The concrete scraps my skin as I struggle to gain my footing. This is the worst — he pushes me forward by that pole. It is a stifling fright — I cannot see where I am stepping. He seems to delight in letting me trip or briskly walking me into obstacles.
I’m now on all fours locked at the wrist and ankles. It must be a table or platform of some kind. He pulls the hood off my head — the purpose of this position is suddenly clear. A bucket of soapy water and a hose are lying on the floor. Im sure he will make what is to come as horrible as possible. I can’t help but sigh with great relief as this vile stench is about to be washed from me.
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