Primal Terror
Pretty little koko gets hogtied, shocked, and dropped in the water tank. All because she won’t lick PD’s boots. As she’s dragged into the tank by a rope lashed to her ankles, she struggles and screams. But we hear nothing. In the water, she seems more spirit than flesh. Her hair flows in dark waves, obscuring her face. She’s on the floor on her stomach, bound tight as though ready to be spitted and cooked. Her legs are folded at the knee, so that calves and feet are bound flat to thigh and ass. PD tells her it’s time to play a game of “choice.” Squeamish koko doesn’t like her choice – that much is obvious right away. When he tells her to lick his boot, she makes a face. So he ties her hair to the hoist, raising her head. She’s spanked. She’s finger fucked. He paws at her bright red pussy. Hoisting her up farther, he slaps her. Still no bootlicking. PD lifts her onto her knees, holding her there by the tie in her hair. This is when the cattle prod appears. In terror of that red devil, koko relents. Once back on the floor, she can hardly bring herself to touch her tongue to his boot, much less lick it. She spits on the boot and buffs it with her chin. But the girl has no enthusiasm for her task. Not even the cattle prod has the desired affect. She’s lying on the floor bound. Next to her, the maw of the water tank opens, as though ready to swallow. He sits her on the edge of the tank and belts a plastic bag over her head then drags her into the water with a rope tied to her feet. It’s sensual, haunting - her body bound, hanging in the water. It’s as if she’s already dead, a corpse. She’s drawn out of the water and the bag is removed, then she’s hauled down again. This time her hair swirls and flows about her face. Bubbles. Her terrified movements. Now he’s holding her head out of the water by her hair, dunking and raising. Then by a rope about her neck. He pisses on her head. She coughs and chokes, either strangling or drowning – we can’t be sure. But she keeps her eyes locked upon him, watching each detail, every visual cue, as though waiting to see her death in his eyes. A metal grate is locked over the top of the tank, allowing her an inch or two of air. He stands over her, gazing down. She’s no longer bound. He chases her back and forth with a cattle prod, shocking the grate so that she’s forced to let go. Her body seen from below is headless, floating in light. But darkness waits beneath. He turns out the lights. Darkness. Water.