February 15, 2019 For London River romantic gestures are best served painfully. However, the most romantic gestures are those that involve pain for the giver as well as for her. When OT punches her gorgeous body hanging in the net it nearly cuts his hands. It's important enough for him to do it that he continues despite his own suffering.
Sharing some milk and cookies sure is sweet. London and OT do things a little differently though. The milk is served from her rectal cavity and the cookies are dunked through a speculum. OT and London both partake in some butt cookies.
London doesn't allow temperature play usually. Due to a medical condition she's never done it, but we've devised a way that is safer for her. Heat a copper rod to 120-140 degrees Fahrenheit and touch it to her sensitive skin. This scene is definitely hot!
The dreaded house torture. This is actual agony for the most masochistic cunts in Hell! The bitch's cunt sits on the top of the old house, but to dramatically increase the whore's pain, the top is covered in actual shingles, coursly the pig's cunt while the pain in her back and thighs grows and grows. In this case, Slave Pig also has weights attached to the irons on her ankles. But just being on the house is not enough, Pig is also beaten, especially on her cunt and worthless tits, which are held in place by irons as well. This is the extreme torture in HELL! you expect and love, this is the agony Slave Pig deserves and his is here for your amusement. Slave Pig is a Bitch on the House.
London River is one of the toughest women who has ever graced the insex set. In this episode she's tied in a strenuous spread eagle with high heels on. The bondage is then morphed for 36 minutes from one position to the next. It creates a unique and difficult experience. Without time to recover and plan the next scene between each position the further along we get the more complicated and painful each position gets. Each position shows off just how flexible and talented London really is.
Sleep 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 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.
We were going to call this sessions something like "Cage of Hell!," or "Cage of Pain," or something along those lines. But It is so much more than that. Yes, it is a cage in which Runt the Cunt finds herself, and it is wrapped in barbed wire in a way that is designed to torture her. In fact, this looks like something cruel and frightening enough to be found in a concentration camp. And yes, the whore is tortured with a cattle prod, which she absolutely hates. But it is really so much more than that. It is a bitch completely broken down, humiliated and degraded until she is a sobbing, screaming, suffering mess. It is not the Good Ship Lollipop, it is the Good Ship Torture and when you see this session, you will know why. Just look at the blank expression on her face, doesn't that tell you everything. Not to be missed!
Apricot Pitts is a bendy babe. Her elbows, with little effort touch. Of course OT exploits this immediately. With her wrists tied to her waist and her elbows together she can barely move her arms. That’s not enough. Her elbows get pulled up to the ring above her head and then down to her neck. When she’s tired of being on her feet and she’s been stripped down to her panties her position is morphed into a severe hogtie with her feet pulled up to her neck. All the while her jaw is wrapped around a giant ball gag.