Taut

Sarah's body gives in to rope. Her limbs stretch and twist into positions no one sees on the street. She hangs in the dark, wrapped tight in a straitjacket she already loves. A gas mask covers her face. Steel slides inside her, the cold hook set deep, pulling her ass up and back until her spine forms a perfect arch. The rope draws tighter with every swing of the flogger. Each strike lands hard, and every breath she fights for comes through the narrow valve of the mask. Her lungs burn, her skin burns, and still she stays taut, body strung between pain and the pull that keeps her exactly where she is. The year is 2007. Sarah Jane Ceylon is the only one here, and the tension never lets go.