Sinister Cage part 2

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The memories stagger in upon me chaotically, as in a dream. Insects stinging, drawing blood. My hands, my breasts, trapped in unyielding metal. My movements secured with hooks sunk deep inwards my body: I am filled, I am owned. I walk like a marionette, with every step the hooks pull with ferocity inwards my caboose and my pussy. When I am pulled out it is only to be opened up over a log and staked out in the grass; again I am left vulnerable, incapable to protect myself from insects, biting my open body. My head secured in place with stakes and a gag. Yelling as a worm is dangled over my face, crawling into my nose, writhing its slimy skin over my tongue and my lips. And yet one memory towers above the rest of my torment; he called it the mala mansio. In the box, this mind is a shell. 
Where is my torrent of dream? Here is the muffle that follows the thunder and blood? 
I sigh in this space, four corners no light- four corners that truss me 
and 
I am strapped into this place. 
I am held here like a moon in defenseless orbit. My voice echoes so strangely from these ferocious corners. 
Every moment my funk menaces to overtake and sink me. He has crushed the door shut: the echo surges thru my bare body. 
Some booming metal doom. 
And now- the moving pictures? The glory I was soaked in? 
My eyes are open but there is only darkness. The warped wishes begin: bizarre worlds for reflections to inhabit. 
They trample over my fear; leave me restless, electric. 
This girl in the box- slimy and throbbing: can it be? 
I envy the moment of my recognition, some towering bliss. 
Rusty walls tremble upon me. My thumbs reek beast fear. 
Hell is so small. I thin over the precipice of some dangerous understanding. The red drums And roarings seem so far away; is someone there? A voice rings hysterical- A scream: my own? This haze somehow soothing- the metallic womb. I float free from the Ropes and tangles, free from the traps of reason. Free of any will: but this I have chosen.