Merciless dominant delivers double-length, ultra-intricate bondage torture scenes—every body part restrained.
You hear the sharp click of my heels as I circle you—a helpless, trembling object splayed before my collection of exquisite torments. I select my favorite apparatus tonight: The Lattice Cage. Cold stainless steel arms descend from the ceiling, each ending in a gleaming clamp or cuff. One by one, your limbs are seized—wrists and elbows forced apart, shoulders stretched until your chest aches with strain. Each finger is threaded through its own miniature steel loop, thumbs locked separately, until your hands splay wide, useless, nerves screaming as microchains keep them motionless.
I kneel close, smirking. “You thought simple rope was restraint? Poor meat.” Tiny metal forceps pinch and extend every single toe, the tendons in your feet stretched taut by separate tensioners; your arches arch cruelly, heels barely brushing the icy floor. I slip a silicone spreader into your mouth, prying it wide. Your tongue is gripped by a clever little vice—jaw locked open as I wind it tighter, stretching your tongue painfully forward, saliva pooling and dripping down your chin. Your ears are next: cold rubber hooks tug at each earlobe, drawing them away from your head and affixing them to the bars above—your earlobes throb with humiliation and discomfort. Fine surgical wire threads through tiny nose cuffs, pulling each nostril wide and high, distorting your face into a grotesque mask of exposure.
I pull the sensory deprivation hood over your head, thick leather sealing away all light and most sound, leaving you alone with your heartbeat and the slow, relentless creak of mechanical arms winding, tightening—never too far, but always enough to keep you on the edge of agony. Every part of you is stretched, immobilized, exposed—rendered a display of suffering for my delight. You are nothing but a specimen, pinned and helpless, every sensation amplified by your inability to move even a single finger or twitch your tongue.
I crouch beside you and whisper, “No struggling now, creature. You exist for pain—mine to orchestrate, yours to endure.” My laughter echoes in the void as the automated torment cycles begin: alternating jolts of electricity and icy clamps on every finger, every toe, the cruel device on your tongue vibrating mercilessly. This will last exactly as long as I want. And I never, ever tire.