Toni Fly: ‘Kieth Raniere Was My Master, But I Never Gave In’

This is part 4

Part 1 Intersex Toni Fly to Tell Story: Why the BOP Locked Her With Keith Raniere for Six Months

Part 2 ‘Only Vagina Around’: Toni Fly Tells All About Life with Keith Raniere in Prison

Part 3 Sharing a Cell with Keith Raniere—What Really Happened in Our Tiny Space

By Toni Fly

I know I promised to reveal whether Keith and I had sex. I lived with him for six months, unlike anyone else, under difficult conditions from September 8th to March 20th.  I had six straight months of intense intensives with the master himself. That earned me the nickname Mosca Loca.

The prison assigned me to his cell for their purposes.

I had been raped by 89 separate male inmates and staff members. This was hundreds of times getting raped. They were hoping he would rape me so they could get rid of him and send him to the Supermax.

My Submissiveness

Keith said he was keeping 100 percent celibate while I was there.

I was a good Padawan, or perhaps I should say, a narcissist in training for the great Vanguard Master Keith.

My devotion and submission to Master Keith can be described as DOS 2.0. I felt as though I would transport myself before him like Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie. He was delighted.

But, of course, I embrace my role as a submissive masochist. Now, I’m forever his slave—though technically, I’m his sub. I’ve learned how to master the art of dominance from the bottom, guiding him to do what I say and encouraging him to get up on the bunk. It’s amusing because the other inmates would see that and say, “Wow, you got him on bunk status.”

He often claimed to be the greatest mathematician to ever live, comparing himself to a human calculator, and even a scientific calculator at that.

Whenever he tried to tell me how smart he was and how he believed he knew everything—claiming everything was merely imagined, thought of, or created by him because he might be the almighty God—I would always challenge him and keep him grounded.

My Mystical Side

He discovered some interesting things about me: I am intuitive and can gain impressions of both the future and the past.

He would ask me, “What do you think is going to happen?” I would contemplate his question, and then, suddenly, I would provide an answer. I shared insights about him that only he knew, without ever asking for that information.

Keith is the most prominent skeptic of mysticism, but he realized that my abilities were genuine.

He would ask me all kinds of questions. “What about this? What about that? What’s going to happen with my court case?” It really stirred up his superstitions, but I enjoyed our conversations.

I sparked his curiosity.

MK10ART painting of Toni Fly and Keith Raniere.

The things he would share with me were incredibly personal—no one else knew them. We talked all the time, except when he entered his meditation mode. He would say, “I need to contemplate things,” and he insisted on having a specific period for contemplation every night. He claimed it was not sleep, but meditation and contemplation.

Because sleep is a deficiency, it is a defect to be tired.

Our Love

For six months, I was his everything, his only thing, his last chance, his last opportunity. He was kind to me and nice. He has a good heart. He’s part of my life. He will always be part of my life whether I want it or not.

In the end, I don’t know if he was my plaything or I was his plaything. I miss him, though.

When I was with him, I was his one and only.  His most beautiful lady. I looked pretty, walking in the room, sitting on my bed, in nothing but a T-shirt or my bra and panties. Looking so sexy to his hungry eyes 👀 that he thirsted for me.

I was like top sirloin to Keith. Little Red Riding Hood was delicious and ready to eat for a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But I played hard to get. Not giving in and making him long for me. Desire me. Not able to refuse me, not able to reject me.

With the true prowess of a seductress, I would make him unable to think of anything but me. Yet, I still did not give in to him.

I told him that I did not want to do anything in prison. Correctional officers and inmates had savagely raped me at the direction and command of the guards, and I could not fully get into the mood. So we agreed to wait. Even if that meant he never had sex with a woman again.

He could think about us. Through all the years of life. He did say things about his possible lifetime in prison without us and how he would miss us all. He would gently weep.

But to answer the question: No, we did not have sex. At least not as far as I know.

I did sleep entirely naked a few times. And generally, with nothing but a shirt on. He could have done anything he wanted then; I may have never known.

Someday, perhaps, we will meet again and be together: Clare, Allison, Daniela, maybe Lauren and me.