29 Jun 2014


Studio: Insex Archives

What starts as your everyday abduction ends with the large stunner, a martyrdom replete with a crucifixion.

She starts unhappy. ? On the floor of a straw-filled barn. She wears jogging garments as though that guy caught her unaware. She struggles, her ankles and wrists locked into stocks made of metal rungs bolted throughout an old four-by-four. A feed sack has been poked over her head. She groans and cries.

A pitchfork is the toy for her instruction. It pokes. It prods. It probes.

He fingers her throughout her shorts.

"You fuck lads with that, do not you?" this guy says.

When the feed sack is pulled off her head, her throat is stuffed and taped. He tightens leather around her neck. He crams against her windpipe, urging her to be quiet. And this guy cuts off her clothing.

He wrings her boobs as though prostate play, "Just like a cow." He beats her fur pie with a marital-device. He rubs her snatch roughly. He shoves the sextoy in and threatens her to hold it that way during the time that he is gone or hell beat her, hell suffocate her. She lies exposed, up-ended in the stocks with a darksome sex tool pushing out of her.

He talks to her about her holes. How many does this babe have? Three? Five?

And this guy trains her. He teaches her to open her backdoor for him, every time wider, until this chab can receive the vibrator in that aperture likewise.

She is then stretched out wide, spread-eagle on the barn floor, her limbs forming the angles of a cross. The tines of the pitchfork fondle her afresh. But this time, the subjugate is poked into her slit. He locks a box around her head. Rectangular box, her body stripped, and the lengthy subdue of the pitchfork protruding from betwixt her legs. She becomes no thing but Image, a foreshadowing of what is to come.

He ties her arms in a Japanese cradle. Ropes bind her mangos, chest, waist, crotch. Her clitoris is pinched betwixt the 2 constricted ropes. She is hung in an inverted suspension. He scourges her. He sits in front of her face and copulates her face hole with a vibrator, domesticating her, making her usable to him.

Eventually this babe is his mare. He fits her with a bit and a lengthy tail drooping from her arse. He drives her, holding the reins. A stream rushes beside the barn. Before her, the lengthy green fields lead upward, into the mountains.

He compels her there, upward, pulling her with a rope that leads from the bumper of his truck to her crotch. She is exposed, a enormous cross tied to her arms. She drags it behind her. And this babe is barefoot, her steps mincing as that babe makes her way along the gravel road. She climbs higher. Sunlight grows finer. Meadow weeds gleam.

The end of her lengthy road, discharged from behind, is the vertical cross and her hanging upon it. The wide valley stretches previous to her. She bakes in the sun. Time passes. She struggles to discover a purchase for her feet, but there is none. She writhes. She tires.

The sun dips down, showing her anguish in gold, the light of evening. Not much longer, and her body is still. She hangs motionless, the last image, icon made flesh.

Format: real

Duration: 1:01:59

Video: 320x240, RV30

Audio: 43kbps




File size: 101.1 MB


Incoming search terms for the article: