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.

She is determined to survive the removal of layers, the loss of skin, the dissection of her outer layers. This is how he searches for that which he can not help but desire. Her.

The gentle slope of her shoulders when her arms are bound back. Her eyes moist, like she’s a lake, an ocean, spilling out, overflowing, influenced not by him, or any man on earth. She is under the influence of the moon.
Her cunt goes wet with wanting, the expectation of ropes. Her breasts are wrapped, those insatiable nippled fruits, prepped for their ordeal. They grow livid as the seconds pass, as the pressure grows, as the weight of her body hangs, and her purpled breasts are wrung dry.
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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.

She is determined to survive the removal of layers, the loss of skin, the dissection of her outer layers. This is how he searches for that which he can not help but desire.
Her.

The gentle slope of her shoulders when her arms are bound back. Her eyes moist, like she’s a lake, an ocean, spilling out, overflowing, influenced not by him, or any man on earth. She is under the influence of the moon.

Her cunt goes wet with wanting, the expectation of ropes. Her breasts are wrapped, those insatiable nippled fruits, prepped for their ordeal. They grow livid as the seconds pass, as the pressure grows, as the weight of her body hangs, and her purpled breasts are wrung dry.
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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.

She is determined to survive the removal of layers, the loss of skin, the dissection of her outer layers. This is how he searches for that which he can not help but desire.
Her.

The gentle slope of her shoulders when her arms are bound back. Her eyes moist, like she’s a lake, an ocean, spilling out, overflowing, influenced not by him, or any man on earth. She is under the influence of the moon.

Her cunt goes wet with wanting, the expectation of ropes. Her breasts are wrapped, those insatiable nippled fruits, prepped for their ordeal. They grow livid as the seconds pass, as the pressure grows, as the weight of her body hangs, and her purpled breasts are wrung dry.

He is machination, hooks and pulleys, chain and rope. He is scalpels and tongs. He is forceps groping, grasping folds of flesh, mounded flesh – Her. He sucks her fluids, her scent of sex and want. He drinks her. His fingers dive inside of her, manipulate breasts. He splits her in two from her waist to her chin and begins a rapid excoriation of muscle and bone.
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This is a Custom Clip. It opens where Sydney is checking the situation of the pipes with the plumber. Sydney had to call a plumber since her bathroom pipes fell into a mishap. “Oh dear, we can’t have this situation in my house. Ah, my fiancee is ringing me. Give me a sec.” she says. Sydney was wearing very provocative clothing so the plumber can’t help but stare at her legs and ass as she walked away and slightly getting turned on. The work was finally done and Sydney asks for the final bill. She goes, “$1500?! For that hour’s worth of work?! Are you fucking kidding me?? I can’t afford this! There must be another way mister. Let’s work something out.”
The plumber looks down at her chest, giving her the signal. “Oh I see. That could work. My fiancee won’t be home for another 30 minutes. Let’s make this quick.” she blurted. Sydney ushered the plumber into the master’s bedroom where they did the deed. She was obviously having fun and not regretting a single moment of this quick bliss. “You have a nice dick for a plumber mister” she commented. Suddenly, the garage door slammed closed and then…
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