I’ve had BDSM fantasies for as far back as I can remember, even as a little girl. Of course, I didn’t realize my fantasies were
fetish-related. I’d close my eyes and imagine myself as an imperiled damsel in distress, helplessly fated to suffer a slow and
torturous demise. My fantasy life didn’t spill over into my real life until I was in college, when I discovered there was an entire
world of material dedicated to the BDSM lifestyle. I guess I was still pretty naïve even after I graduated and moved to
Chicago. Then, one day, I found myself in need of a little extra cash and saw an ad looking for bondage models, so I thought
I would give it a try.
That was my first bondage shoot. I’ll never forget that shoot because something very strange happened. We’d shot a couple of different scenes. In one scene, I was tied spread eagle against a St. Andrews cross. A heavy wall mounted X shaped wooden cross that was a bondage position straight out of my fantasies.
Standing on a small stool, with my wrists tied to the upper half of the cross the photographer looped a length of rope around my waist, the end of the rope passing snuggly through my crotch and secured to the cross behind my back. As the photographer finished tying my ankles to the cross, I quickly discovered that most of my weight was now resting against that unyielding rope between my legs. With every breath, it felt like that rope was sawing my crotch in half. I remember the photographer asking if I was OK, not trusting my voice, I simply nodded yes and opened my mouth for the ball gag.
The only way to relieve my discomfort was to pull up with my arms, but I quickly learned that I could only manage a few brief moments of relief before I had to relax my arms and sink back down allowing to rope to dig steadily deeper into my crotch. As I was struggling, I suddenly realized I was getting very horny, that unforgiving crotch rope still hurt but now in a very good way.
A few minutes later, when the photographer brought out a pair of nipple clamps, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but again I nodded yes. I knew they would hurt, but I wanted more. At first, those unforgiving clamps crushing my nipples hurt worse than I’d imagined I could endure. The slightest movement of my breasts causing the slender chain linking the clamps to sway causing those clamps to tug and twist painfully on my already throbbing nipples, but soon even that pain only seemed to fuel my state of arousal. I’m still not sure, which of us was more embarrassed when I finally reached orgasm.
I guess you could say I was a BDSM virgin until that night. Later, I quit my job and moved to the San Francisco bay area, hired a manager and started to work full-time as a fetish model. Over the last few years, I’ve stared in dozens of bondage shoots and videos, but it’s the torture porn videos, the closest I can come to realize my fantasies without the whole dying part, that I loved doing the best. However, secretly, I knew I wanted more.
It was at this year’s BondCon, I had a booth prompting my videos and my brand-new torture porn website, the Perils of Stefanie, when I first heard about him. They said he’d taken torture porn to a whole level of realism, something truly groundbreaking. So after the BondCon I gave him a call, and this weekend I drove down to LA to meet him.
High in the Hollywood hills with a breath-taking view of the LA skyline, his studio was everything he’d promised, and more. I remember walking over and lightly running my fingertips along the smooth metal surface of that massive steel table. “So, this is the table. And, you plan to tie me spread eagle across this table, gag me, switch on the cameras and over the next few hours, slowly torture me to death. Correct?”
The look in his eyes, from behind his face concealing steel mask, delightfully confirmed all my darkest suspicions, that if I climbed on that table, in the coming hours, I would be tortured, raped and brutally murdered. We both understood this wasn’t going to be torture porn, this was going to be an actual snuff film. He’d even told me that the film’s final scene would be of him dismembering my badly mutilated body and disposing of my remains in that large tank of acid, he had back in the storage room behind his studio.
Knowing all that, when the moment finally arrived, I still willingly climbed up onto that table...