Zina Kovich gets off the bus at Grand Central, catches a cab and gets to the studio about three minutes before Gus and the crew show up.  She speaks little, ashamed of her Serbian accent.  They go inside the studio where they close and bar the door.  It is a heavy door, designed to withstand a police battering ram.

Converted from a Crack distribution warehouse, the studio is huge, windowless and almost soundproof.  There are bondage toys everywhere, all the usual furniture plus walls festooned with restraints, whips, clamps, gags, pinwheels, vibrators and dildos, lots and lots of dildos.

The centerpiece of this pervert’s wet dream is a common office desk, which just happens to equipped with four corner shackles.  Lying in the middle of the desk is a cardboard file folder with a pen lying on top.  Zina sees it and feels her tummy do a flop.  If she didn’t really need the money she wouldn’t be doing this again so soon.

Gus looks at her and says, "Read it this time Zina, I got some nasty stuff in there."

Zina snorts and flips open the folder and, picking up the pen, begins to scan down the page, just to be sure it is, as usual, in leagalize English, a language she neither speaks or reads.

She turns her head, looks him in the eye and says, "Are you going to kill or maim me?"

He says, "Not today honey, just the old hemp and leather jamboree."

Zina watches his face as he speaks then signs the contract, initialing each page until she gets to the document’s bottom.  She knows that what she is doing is dangerous.  Hell, that’s why she is doing it, that and the money.

As soon as she is done signing, Gus slips the contract into its folder and locks it in the desk drawer.  Then turning to look Zina in the eye, says, "Downstairs honey, we finished the soundproofing yesterday."

Zina leads the way, walking to the basement door and finding it brand new and very heavy.  It leads to a set of steep, enclosed, stairs.  At the bottom is a second heavy door, this one set with a wire reinforced viewing window. When the second door closes behind them the silence makes her feel as if she’s suddenly gone deaf.  The sounds of lower Manhattan are completely gone.  She understands now that she is never going to scream this house down.

The thought of her complete captivity makes her nipples ache.  She glances down to see how tight they have puckered and thinks, Shit I am becoming super slut the pain whore!   

She shrugs and slips off her blouse, proud of her nipples, proud of her body.  Cameraman Carl picks up his digital video camera and begins recording the scene.  He circles around her as she shucks her jeans and panties.

She turns the rings in her nipples, trying to get used to the new deeper piercing.

Gus has her place her hands on top of her head and let the two cameramen shoot for a few minutes. 

While they are busy he walks to a table and picks up tonight’s bondage.  It is a pair of stocks made from 4X4s.  Zina watches him come to her with it in his hands.  She has never seen such intent purpose in any man’s eyes.  She shivers, even though the basement is quite warm.

He stands behind her, opens the stocks and helps her place her wrists and throat into the grooves before closing them and making her completely his.

Suddenly her body becomes hot and excited.  Her nipples seem to grow even tighter, the new piercings beginning to burn.  She jerks in response to the touch of his finger to her clit.  His hot breath on the back of her ear makes her shiver, then gush pussy cream all over his finger.

She looks at a point on the wall, as if she is a sailor watching an approaching sail.

Reflected in the lenses of the two cameras are the millions of perverts out there in the ether, paying to view her performance.  She knows she would do this for free, but loves that it pays so well. 

He helps her to lie down, carefully placing her head on a smooth rock to save her stocked neck, then begins tying her knees out to two rings set into the floor.  Next he begins wrapping hemp rope around each of her legs, tying them so that her heels are pressed into her thighs.

He makes her kiss the bippy which is a cruel riding crop tipped with three hard, salt cured leather thongs.  He checks that the camera’s are ready then slices the air on the way to her inner thigh.

She wants to rear up but the wood is too heavy.  She feels as if she’s been bee stung, snake bit, sliced, diced, and branded.

Again the cropper cuts the air, exploding another bomb between her legs.  She strains against the ropes, unable to close.  He turns his attention to her breasts, turning them in a few seconds into twin crimson volcanoes topped by the burning new rings.

He lays aside the crop and lets Al the still cameraman hand him a bag of toothy spring clamps.  He comes and kneels over her, looking into her wide eyes as he asks, "Nose, ear, lips, tongue, nipple, lips or clitoris, honey, your choice, any or all?"

She knows that if she asks for only one she will get at least five.  The way her nipples hurt she doesn’t want to chance it so she gasps, "May I have three sir?  One on my clit the other two on my pussy lips?"  She’s already breathing like a steam engine.  It is why they pay her the big money.  She’s tough.

He waits a minute, letting the clamps do their work then picks up the crop again.

She tries again and again to rear up in response to the crop’s pain but each time the weight of the stocks defeats her.  Each blow is applied with an expert’s touch, designed to do maximum hurt and minimum actual damage.  He goes at it as if he has all day, which is exactly what he has.

After a while he tires of hitting her and he changes her bondage.  First he corks her asshole with an extra large butt plug then he ties the end of a pulley rope to the stocks and lifts her up to sit on it.

Then comes a long time spent with a vibrating probe, one who’s head is a constant blur.

He makes her come, again and again.  He makes her service all three of them with her mouth.  He uses the pinwheel on her welted breasts and groin, making her try to do the impossible by screaming loud enough to be heard on the street. He nourishes her with sips of sweet tea and verbal encouragement as she toughs it out.    

It is twelve intense hours later.  Zina finds herself on her face, the stocks still as restrictive as only two balks of wood can be.  Her knees are once again tied out to the rings.  Her plugged butt is up in the air, about to receive its final, well deserved reward.

Zina is deep in her subbie space but she does notice that its going to be old Cameraman Carl standing in for Gus this time.  Even with Viagra a man has his limits after all.  She doesn’t care much, Carl’s a great fuck and she knows he likes to make every time special.

He kneels behind her, his Donkey Kong pecker fully recovered from the last blowjob. 

She has come so much today that she’s dry, not that anyone but an expert could tell under her thick coating of Crisco.  She is glad she did it, yet glad it’s over as well.

Carl slides his studded condom covered pecker into her vulva and begins to bogie, sending her, once again, into the valley of submission.

Dry or not, tired or not, hurting or not, Zina feels the pleasure rekindling, the balloon filling, the excitement swelling, the bladder bursting, the orgasms crashing like waves upon the rocks.

Her first stop is at the bank.  Depositing the check and drawing out what she needs to get straight with her bookie.

Then, when that little job is done she staggers home and takes a long soak in her tub.  She’s come to America to find her fortune, to find the fruited plains promised in the song, and she’s been lucky enough to find something at which she is good.