ACTING . . .

 

 

 

For anyone else in my current predicament . . . let's be honest nobody else would have ever willingly walked right into this Scary as Hell basement I'm currently in. Or volunteered, to be tied up to a chair by a Guy in Butcher's Overalls carrying a club wrapped in a Blood Soaked Chain.

 

That's because most other people aren't experienced Actress's like I am. I've done a lot of B Horror Movies, and as good as this whole Horror Hotel may look, it couldn't be more over the Top Fake! I mean, come on already! A Mermaid chained up and submerged in a giant Tank . . . Fake!

 

That one Chick bent backwards over that pipe thingy . . . that one looked pretty painful, but I'm sure it was a Fake Body and only her real head and arms. Seen that a hundred times already. Now the Mummy, bonuses points there, but nobody is actually all wrapped up like that . . . just a mannequin and some motion motors.

 

Now an Innocent, Cute and Helpless Strawberry blonde . . . I'm as Real as it gets. No special effects here . . . real ropes . . . real struggles and . . . ok, fake blood. It's my job to make it all look as real as possible with my Acting Chops on Full Display . . .

 

Ken continues to add more ropes to me and I comment on how it may be a little over the Top also, "We don't want this looking as Fake as some of those other rooms Ken, maybe this is enough?" Ken doesn't respond at all.

 

We hit it off so well before and ever since he finished tying my wrists and adding the locking wrist straps and chains . . . he's totally quieted down. I was already helpless after that point and with my ankles tied to the legs; I wasn't able to even move my chair around.

 

Since then he's wrapped ropes at least a half dozen times around my arms, stomach and chairs while brushing his hands across my breasts each time. Not Cool Ken! Not Cool! I hate having to put in complaints about Handlers, but when they start handling things they shouldn't, I have to mention it.

 

Ropes over my thighs, holding them firmly against the seat of the chair, were starting to cut the blood off to my legs. I commented to Ken about this and he once again ignored me. Now he was running even more un-necessary rope over the tops of my breasts, over my shoulders.

 

These ropes were starting to push against my throat and that was my limit with Ken! As nicely as possible I said, "Excuse me Ken, these ropes are really tight against my neck and they're choking me . . . could you loosen them or just remove them totally . . . that would be best."

 

Tightening the ropes further that I just commented on, Ken says, "You know what would be best? . . . If you'd just Shut the Fuck Up while I finish making you look Pretty for the Mistress." What the hell has gotten into Ken?