Sexual Engineering Psychosexual Conditioning

A final render of Agent Tygress before she's sent out on what she believes to be her first mission. In fact this is the 17th clone of the young agent, who has already died on sixteen prior occasions attempting to complete missions for the Space Pirate fleet. Perhaps this time she will survive, but if not, she is certain to enjoy her death. This sheet explores the techniques and equipment that make it possible for Space Pirate agents to voluntarily subject themselves to such terribly long odds of survival. 

Thank you, as always, to my generous sponsors, my viewers and watchers, and to the love of my life, without whom none of this would feel like it was worth doing. 

If you like this you really owe it to yourselves to check out 's site - it is filled with beautiful women in all kinds of interesting outfits (or nothing at all!). He's a tremendously talented artist and you are depriving yourself if you are not already watching him. While you are there be sure to leave him a note to thank him for creating this AMAZING image. 

I want to ask if anyone has suggestions for enemies / scenarios for me to fight / engage in. I would love to accommodate you, if possible, even if it means my death. Let me know, my darlings!

Incidentally, I don't know how many of you also read my stories, but if you don't you don't know the half of it! This image, as beautiful as it is, does not tell the whole story. Why not experience the life (and perhaps the death) of a Space Pirate from her own perspective? Try this: 
LONG SHOT PART 1
Warning! The following story contains graphic descriptions of beautiful young women killing, dying, having orgasms, and harsh language, all portrayed from a deliciously first person perspective! Do not read it if that is not what you want to see. For those of you who are having the correct reaction to this warning (titillation) read on and enjoy! - Eva
LONG SHOT
PART 1: Suiting Up
I savor the feeling of the cool metal deck against my bare feet as I walk towards my suit machine, enjoying my last few seconds of nakedness - probably the last few of my life - as I approach the demented device. My smooth skin prickles at the sight of it, as always, and I can't help thinking of my last pelvic exam, just two weeks ago, or my final exam in Torture Resistance a month ago.
I shudder involuntarily as the glistening armatures of the machine part at my approach, swaying aside like the tendrils of an enormous Venus flytrap to make room for me within the device. Suddenly, I’m keenly aware of ev

Kisses!
Eva

P.S. I noticed that you posted some more lovely artwork, darling, but still no communication! What must I do?