Like a fucking wild animal.

Juliette March looks harmless until you see her eyes. On set in 2010 she turns into a chained-up mess of sweat and need. We rig a device that lifts her into a strict hogtie, feet and wrists drawn tight behind her. Chains rattle, her body sways. She laughs at first, the high of it cutting through the room. Steel clamps bite her nipples, weights tug each time she breathes. We cane the arches of her feet, the backs of her thighs, the curve of her ass, stripes blooming fast and red. Every stroke drives another climax out of her; she shakes and comes hard, voice raw, sweat shining under the lights. We figure the scene is finished, start to lower her. She yells for more. We raise her again, lay on fresh cane strokes, watch the weights dance while she twists in the chains and comes until her voice cracks.