This isnít how I imagined this night would end. This was supposed to be a simple torture porn video. Iíd originally started doing bondage photo shoots and videos to cover my expenses during
college. In fact, I was so successful in the business that Iíd graduated from college debt free.
Earlier this week, I told my booking agent that I accepted a position at a Boston based high tech startup company, and that I was quitting the business. He smiled, saying that he completely understood and wished me well in my new career. Walking me out of his office, he suddenly paused and asked if Iíd be interested in doing one final video. He said there was a producer over in east LA, one that was producing innovative new videos, and that he paid his models twice the going rate. Since I was planning a two-week stay down in Cancun before heading to Boston, I couldnít pass up on making an extra twenty grand, so I accepted the assignment knowing it would be my last.
Later that evening, I showed up at the producerís studio, an old warehouse. A typical location for underground bondage and torture porn video productions. Already disguised in my blonde wig, green contacts and wearing more extravagant makeup then Iíd normally use. In this business, anonymity is important, especially if youíre not planning on staying in the business long term. That, and using a stage name and always being paid in cash makes it easy to avoid paying taxes, that being the main reason Iíd not only graduated debt free, but I had enough money left over to purchase a high-end condo on the water overlooking Boston harbor.
Meeting the director, he explained his plans for the video and handed me an envelope of cash, before directing me to their wardrobe room. Changing into a revealingly tight latex outfit, I counted the money and touching up my makeup eagerly headed back out to the set. Tonightís video shoot combined two of my personal favorites, predicament bondage peril and deadly asphyxiation peril. If Iíd known what they planned for my final video appearance, I might have done it for free.
Back on the set, the masked rigger pulled my arms behind my back and secured my wrists in tight-fitting restraints. With my wrists secured, he pressed an oversized ball gag deep within my mouth and strapped it tight.
With the cameras already recording, the sceneís rigger led me over to where a short stepladder and a slender wooden block waited. Helping me up onto the ladder with my left foot, he carefully positioned the ball of my right high-heel clad foot at top the narrow block of wood and locked a steel restraint around my ankle. Then, picking up the rope lying on the floor, threaded itís end through the ring at the front of the ankle cuff, clinching it just tight enough to force my weight partially forward onto my toes before tying it off. With the rope tethering my ankle to the floor-mounted ring, the rigger went behind me and dragged the chain from the wall-mounted pulley toward me, raising the heavy steel ball upward until he clipped the chain to the back of my snug-fitting ankle cuff.
Motioning for his masked assistant to come over, he locked a matching steel cuff around my left ankle as he waited until his assistant grasped my sides, helping me to maintain my balance, as the rigger lifted my foot off the stepladder, bending my leg up and back before clipping the overhead chain to the back of my left ankle cuff.
Now came the tricky part. Motioning for his assistant to hold me tight, he picked up the smaller steel ball and clipped the end of its chain into the ring at the front of my left ankle cuff. The moment he released that steel ball its unpredictable swaying made it impossible for me to keep my balance. If not for the support of the riggerís assistant, Iíd have fallen. However, the rigger quickly stopped the swaying of that heavy steel ball and with his assistantís help, he carefully adjusted the position of the slender wooden post beneath my right foot until I could stand unassisted.
Assured that I could maintain my awkward balance, the rigger stepped up onto the stepladder and positioned the noose around my neck. Removing the ladder, he returned with a candle, the side of which, had a notch cut into it halfway down its length. I felt my heartbeat quicken as I helplessly watched him place that candle on the floor, with the rope connecting my ankle cuff to the floor ring, carefully nestled within the candle's notch. I could hear the amusement in his laughter as he pulled out a pack of matches and lit the candle's wick.
I managed to maintain my uncomfortably awkward balance for over ninety minutes, the oversized ball gag wedged within my mouth causing a steady trickle of saliva to coat my upper chest and exposed cleavage, as I helplessly watched the candle slowly burning down until its flame finally reached to rope.
Having done noose scenes before, this was the moment, I expected the rigger or his assistant to move the candle away from the rope. Then, pausing to take a quick picture with his phone, heíll pull the leotard down to my waist, his assistant holding me steady as he straps the suspension harness tightly around my chest just beneath my breasts. With the harness in place, he'll pull the leotard back up onto my shoulders, using the photo on his phone to adjust it to match how it looked before adding the concealed harness. With my costume adjusted, heíll attach the harnessís slender steel suspension cable to the wire ring concealed within the nooseís knot, adjusting the cableís tension, so that when I hang, the noose will pull realistically and painfully tight around my neck making it hard to breathe, yet not quite tight enough to actually strangle me to death.
Glancing over past the camera lights, I suddenly realized the entire film crew were sitting around in studio chairs, drinking champagne as they watched me struggle to retain my balance. The overwhelming realization hit me, as I noticed the growing look of evil anticipation in everyoneís eyes, that I would die here tonight, that this wasnít a bondage torture porn production. That this was an actual snuff film I was starring in. And, glancing down at the already smoldering rope, I realized to my horror that I had mere seconds left before I hung.
I felt a tremor in the rope as it gradually started to fail under the heat of the flame. That slight tremor was all the warning I had as seconds later the flame weakened rope suddenly failed, that heavy steel ball hanging from the pulley brutally jerking my right leg backward as my foot caused the wooden block to topple over beneath me.
I could feel the noose slowly growing tighter around my neck as I desperately struggled against the restraints, the steel ball swaying from my left ankle causing my body, hanging suspended between the ankle chains and the noose, to twist and turn uncontrollably. Suddenly, I felt hands on my shoulders dampening my uncontrollable swaying. For a moment I thought he intended to save me, but instead he grasped the shoulders of my red latex leotard and cruelly pulled it down to my waist exposing my breasts.
Freed from the tight clinging heat of latex, my saliva and perspiration damp swaying breasts responded to the warehouseís cool night air as expected, my nipples growing erect and painfully aroused. At the same time, the leotardís incredibly tight-fitting crotch, already half inside me, was firmly rubbing against my clitoris with every uncontrollable sway of my body. That delightful mix of masochistic pleasure and pain that originally drew me to the bondage and torture porn industry, pushing me quickly over the edge as my first powerful orgasm, of what I instinctively knew would be my final night, hit me.
Over the coming twenty minutes or so, I managed to have three more orgasms and was well on the way to my fifth, when that noose finally tightened enough to crush my trachea and squeezing my carotid arteries, cut off the blood flow to my brain.
As I lost consciousness, my final thought, I wonder if theyíre still going to go through with the film's planned finale. After all, Iíve always fantasized about my warm, lifeless body being sexually abused by a group of evil necrophiliacs...