I do bondage phone sex calls daily. I have done bondage fetish modeling for drug money. It was not a far stretch for me to make a bondage film. The pay was good, so I responded to the ad. I Googled the production outfit. They have been in the fetish film making industry a few decades now, so I had no reason for concern. When I arrived at the house being used for the set, no red flags went up. It looked like a professional porn fetish film set. All the lighting equipment was there. There were assistants and a catering spread. If I was being duped, they went to a lot of trouble and expense to make it look real. There was even a script. I didn’t care that it was hardcore bondage; I needed money. After about an hour of filming, my character was strung up into the trees. Suspension bondage isn’t common, but I was fine with it. I was up in the air for over an hour when I realized all the crew was gone. Only the director remained. I either fell asleep or had been drugged. I told him I needed down because I had to pee. That’s when the torture sex began. He lit a flame torch and started burning my feet. The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. I started screaming for help. My flesh was burning as I was screaming. No one was coming to my rescue. The director was filming me while stroking his cock. Underneath me was a bale of hay that he lit on fire. As the flames grew taller, the heat blistered my skin. Was he making a snuff film or was I dinner? When he added another bale of hay, so the flames would grow even taller, I knew this was the end. Dinner or snuff, either way, I was being burned alive, like a witch on a stake. I passed out as the flames charred my legs…
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