As the minutes go by it gets worse and worse. The way your ankles are bolted beside your wrists. Metal squeezes your tits. The collar. The gag. It all hurts. Not a lot. But enough to make everything difficult, even your breathing. You weigh it out in your mind. You can take one more minute. Maybe two. And just when you can't stand another second, PD shows up. He lays a pile of canes and paddles at your feet. And you realize anything is better than being locked in this metal that rubs and squeezes and presses. Anything. You can plainly see that things are going to get a lot worse. But you don't care. Even pain is better than this. You need PD. And that's exactly the way he wants it.

He oils your feet, taking the time to rub it between each toe. His touch is incredible. Marvelous. He says, let me know when you want me to hit you. He makes you a part of your own misery. And he pokes a skewer beneath your toenails. He lights a torch and heats the bottoms of your feet. Your helplessness is profound. It's just the beginning. Extended discomfort marked with bright points of pain and ecstasy quintessential torment.

As time passes, the things that he does begin to seem dreamlike. He's bent your hands backwards, palm up splaying out your fingers. The room becomes fantastical as he torments your fingers, caning the meaty part of your palm. But you don't want him to leave. You don't want to be alone.

You're standing, a 4X4 yoke bolted to your wrists and neck. A metal pipe gag pushes your tongue backwards and down, opening the mouth. Your breath dries your upper palette. You can't swallow or wet your mouth. Metal chastity belt. Ankle spreader. Everything is very heavy. The weight messes with your head. It's bad. Really bad. You're nothing now. Nothing but this weight, this pain. You're not you anymore. And maybe that's exactly what you wanted all along.

She says she likes riding that line, the one between panic and euphoria. It reminds me of a tryptych of Bosch. On one side, Paradise. On the other side, Hell. It is the center panel that fascinates. And that is where we find felonie.

He's strapped her elbows behind her back until they nearly touch. Another strap covers her nipples. Toes tied together. Ass plug. Dildo. A set of stocks screwed onto her neck. She comes hard and fast, not bothering to ask permission. Now she has to be punished. We have to ask did she forget on purpose? Because the look in her eyes tells us that she's fallen to one side of the line. Euphoria.

Bosch would have appreciated this side of PD. He contorts and twists the faces of pretty girls. PD slips wire hooks on either side of felonie's mouth and then inserts a nose hook. Now she looks like a living skull.

Felonie takes a whipping on her feet and ass, at first screaming, but learning to be silent and thank PD for each strike. When she's bound to a fuckbench with her ass jutted into the air, she fucks herself on Mr. Pogo. And for some reason, she keeps coming without asking permission. Her punishments mount. She takes a double spanking. Her pussy is huge and gleaming. Like knives gleam in the center panel of Bosch's tryptych. Like trumpets gleam in the hands of angels. Naked bodies impaled gleam.

Fires glow.

Panic. Euphoria.

Where is the line now?

One minute she's riding her bike in the country. The next, cable-ties hold her to a chair in a dank basement. You stand before this helpless young woman. She is in your power. There are games you want to play with her. Sadistic games. It is something in your body that drives you to do these things to her. Perhaps it is a form of love. Because in your eyes, her body grows more beautiful by the hour. Until there is an imprint of her wherever you go, whatever you see, whomever you are with. And you begin to wonder if you will ever get free.

You lean down and open a door set into the floor. Shackled and chained, she lies sideways in a shallow box below floor level. She quickly learns to smother sound, maybe to smother everything. You praise her. You're teaching her the contortionist's art the equanimity of self-deception.

You trap her so that her head is on one side of a wall, and her body, arched backward, is on the other side. She's lovely like this, don't you think? Nearly perfect. And so you play another game. It is a game she can only lose. You play this game to make her more perfect, more lovely. And this is the imprint of her that you carry. The sound of her screaming, and of her body twisting and straining.

A hook in her cunt pulls her pussy upward. You vibrate her to orgasm. And as you prepare to put her away in her box, you're already thinking of coming to her later. More games? Is that what you want? How long can this go on? When will it be over? By then, she'll be able to smother everything, walking a dim silence of dream.

After spending time locked in a cavert, a triangular metal device used in English dungeons young, tender Calico is seated on a bed of spikes. Mr. Pogo gives her a morning fuck, first in the cunt then the ass. Afterward, cold metal plugs her ass. A whip hits her pussy, then a vibrator on her clit. After all of that, Calico begs to come, but PD pulls the vibrator away. Not today, he says. He walks away.

Humiliation follows humiliation. She's exercised, led around by the mouth a metal gag with chain attached. She creeps about like some kind of animal. Then it's cocksucking practice. Calico ends up with a face smeared with drool.

All that came before has been a method, a preparation for the coup de grace, a new gizmo fresh from the mind of PD. Calico's locked in a wooden box. Only her head sticks out. Screw clamps, hooks, and tighteners press, stretch, and manipulate her head and face. The vibrator returns, pressing against her pussy. This time she comes but unwisely doesn't tell him.

PD exacts his revenge. The vibrator runs at high speed. Calico makes sounds of distress. He plugs her mouth and leaves.

the response to coercion typically contains "... at least three important elements:

debility, dependency, and dread."

CIA Human Resource Exploitation Training Manual 1983

Debility

She's laced and strapped into a straitjacket that fits her body without even a finger-width of slack. Institutional restraints buckled about her ankles bend her feet toward her back, her legs folded. A leather gag keeps her quiet. He orders her to get up. She can't. He pulls her onto her knees by the chain and metal collar locked to her neck.

Dependency

After she practices sucking cock, he drops a burger on the floor and tells her to eat. He dangles a calf nursing bottle above her so she can suck water from the nipple. With her ankles locked up toward her shoulders, he fills her ass. A vibrator glides across her clit. He gives her pleasure.

Dread

He hangs her up in the air from the shoulders of the straitjacket. Her ankles are pulled straight to either side so that she affects the splits in midair. A cane whacks her ass and her inner thighs. She screeches and writhes. The vibrator touches her clit again, but this time it turns into agony. This time she doesn't come.

As she swings in the air, her pussy swings, swelled and rippled. . .flushed.

Melody with her perfect pale skin is locked in the trunk of a car, her wrists and ankles cuffed. When the car stops, she's yanked out and dragged down a storm cellar. She disappears into darkness.

Her wrists are cuffed behind a pole. She slowly sinks to the floor, sitting on cold concrete. He manhandles her a bit, just to let her know who's boss. Then he kneels over her, his crotch in her face. He vibrates her until she comes. It's a way of owning everything, even her pleasure.

He leaves her. She settles in for the night. Cold concrete floor, implacable steel around her wrists and ankles. Like part of a long ago dream, her toenails are painted red.

It's a nightmare, really. She wakes up lying in a puddle of her piss. He dumps a pile of grain on the floor. She eats. He drops a pail of water near her head. Then it's time for a little breathplay by inflating a dildo deep in her throat. He makes her come again, writhing and screaming. From relief? From dread? When he leaves her this time, she can't lie down, only sit and wait. He wants her to come to his bed willingly. But she won't.

Metal shackles and chain. A metal gag in her mouth. A stim locked inside her. Move those stones over there, he says. She clatters as she walks. He's wearing a jacket in the cold air. She's naked. She slogs through muck barefoot, slipping from stone to stone, limping. Then he orders her to lie face down in the muck. What choice does she have? Of course it's humiliating. Maybe if she agreed to sleep in his bed, it would end.

Certainly there's a point at which she will break. We have to assume that she will.

Of course.

Candi Summers, a sexy blond who's taking a little detour from the world of straight porn, models PD's newest Home Depot collection of homemade restraints hose clamps, pipe clamps, chain, padlocks, and a chastity belt made from wire cable and clear plastic. Her gag is a large hose clamp and clear plastic tubing. The bondage is harsh, applied and removed through the use of a portable drill. PD soon has her dancing on her toes. The pipe clamp screwed around her neck like a collar is chained upward. PD tosses her a pair of high heels and tells her to dance for him. She fingers her clit, protruding from a small hole that's been drilled in her chastity belt. Then a dress is thrown at her. She puts it on, painfully. He humiliates Candi by making her walk back and forth as though she's on a fashion runway. But every movement is a lesson in torment. You're a working girl, PD says sitting and holding a dildo at his crotch. Let's see you do some work. So Candi oh so slowly kneels and does a mouth job.

Now he's got her sitting in one of his devices with her legs raised and spread. Her arms disappear through holes in her backrest. It's time to train the straight porn girl. He starts with a pussy whip, flushing up her pussy and asshole. He teaches her not to flinch as he smacks her with a riding crop. Keep your eyes on me, PD tells her, but it's hard for her, the flogging and the whipping. PD even flogs her face. But now it gets harder. A vibrator makes her come, then suddenly come harder. She begs to be whipped to get the vibrator off her clit. Then begs to be fucked. He fingerfucks her G-spot, then slips in all his fingers up to his knuckles. A huge dildo slides inside of her. Candi, much to her own surprise, just keeps coming.

So after it's all said and done, it's no surprise that Candi's VERY interested in visiting Infernal Restraints again soon.

BDSM gear fetishists everywhere will never unanimously agree on anything much less the attributes and premier sources of visually stunning and highly functional equipment. Unless of course, you're talking about PD's creations. Obsessed with the binding of the human body, PD is scrupulous about efficacy and design. And he hates to wait. So he sewed and re-sewed his own pattern of a straitjacket until he was satisfied not merely with the aesthetics, but also with his requirement that equipment should perfectly fit and restrain any number of body types. As KGB (the metal smith at Intersec) has remarked, It is always a struggle to make it fit both the bitch and PD. The devices and gear you see on Infernal Restraints are one-of-a-kind pieces made by artists for artists with a deep love of the genre.

Part one of Straitjacket features Pinky cable-tied to an antique dentist chair that's worth every penny. The elegant metal chair enhances the delicious lines and curves of Pinky's body as she strains against the tightly constricting bondage that renders her utterly helpless. Clamps wound with copper wire are bolted so tight to her nipples that, well, you just can't squeeze a tit any tighter, even with surgical screws. Pink and lush, her protruding nipples are mouthwatering. PD leaves Pinky with a cunt/clit vibrator in place then drives into town to pick up a couple burgers, a sandwich that Pinky clearly disdains. As Pinky wiggles and squirms against her strict, controlling bondage, PD calls Pinky's cell phone, which just happens to be taped to a voice activated stim. The close connection of copper to nipple, while Pinky is penetrated and vibrated, causes her to have a mind-blowing experience. In Part 2, Pinky's strapped and laced tightly into PD's straitjacket. It fits her body like skin. We'll see just how much she likes the burger PD brings back for her.

Most of the gear used in this shoot was either picked up at a flea market, purchased at a local hardware store, or made by PD. The ingenious re-use of day-to-day objects is well, let's face it way hot. Like FABULOUSLY hot. Like totally INSEX hot.

Note to all Members: Throughout its existence, Intersec has welcomed the ideas and talents of its members who have shown time and again that diabolically effective equipment can be constructed from just about anything. Many thanks to all of our members, especially those with deviously obsessed minds. . .You know who you are.

A Second, More Frivolous Note: Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

A dentist's chair sits empty, waiting. Blindfolded and handcuffed, she's led to the chair. He sits her down and cuffs lock her ankles and wrists in place. Her clothes are ripped and cut off her body. He gropes her breasts then slides cord through her nipple rings to her collar, pulling the cord tight, stretching her nipples. Her body twists against the metal holding her in place. A new metal face-hole creation fits between her teeth. He canes her breasts.

Drool runs in a stream. He uses it to lube her pussy. The Fish, a double metal hook, slips into her cunt, prying her open. A vibrator nestles between the folds of her inner labia. Her hips start a rhythmic motion. Because now she wants what he's doing to her. She wants it very much. You can see it in her eyes and her face, in the softened shape of her mouth.

With PD, it's always more straps. He tightens them around her chest, her neck, and her forehead. She's reclined. Her ankles are strapped to the armrests so that her cunt is lifted and her legs spread. Clips tied to her toes stretch her labia. Her pussy opens, pink and juicy. Mr. Pogo pushes into her cunt. PD canes her foot as she comes.

A gas mask encloses her head. PD attaches a tube and bellows. This is her task for the next few hours. Breathing. He places the bellows between her knees so that she can pump it. If she drops it she's done, a goner breathless. He vibrates her again, but sometimes she forgets to pump the bellows. Because it takes concentration, coming and breathing all at the same time. He laughs. Don't forget to breathe, he says. It's subtle, the game he plays with her.

He makes her come many times. And then he leaves. And she's trying to remember to pump the bellows. It's all about oxygen.

She's young and cute, riding her bike for a day out in the country when her bike gets a flat. Mei heads toward the first house she sees. Before the day is out, she's bound in a farmhouse basement, unable to escape, unable to scream.

When he drags her into the basement room, she's unconscious. He lifts her onto a metal frame, all that remains of a chair. Cable ties secure her wrists and ankles to the frame. When she wakes, she struggles, slowly taking in her predicament. This is when she starts screaming.

He tapes her mouth and laces a leather hood tightly to her head a hood with an oval that leaves her nose and eyes free so that she can see. Anticipation is important to create in a subject of torment. It increases her terror.

A pair of scissors. His teeth on her nipple. A thick, heavy, tight leather collar to keep down the noise, he says as he cinches it tighter around her throat. After he cuts off her clothes, he asks her how her boyfriend fucks her. Fascinated by her pussy, he fingers her clit then rubs a white cream onto her pussy, cunt, and asshole. She tries to scream, but all that comes out are little squeaks. It's because of the special cream on her tender skin hot twat.

A whip. A cane. He strikes her wherever it hurts the most. And after that, he inflates a cock inside her cunt, pumps it up until it's huge, ballooning out of her cunt. He vibrates her to orgasm, keeping the vibrator against her pussy afterward. What will you do for me if I stop? he says. Suck my cock? And she nods yes, making her little squeaky screaming sound. So he stops vibrating her. He walks away, disappearing up the stairs. Her eyes widen. She tries to scream again. Because everything so far has been horrible, unthinkable. But this is the worst.

Now she's all alone.