Beth struggled to fight back the terror that, with each passing moment, threatened to overwhelm her senses as she stared
at the hideously sharp spikes poised to stab deep into her eyes. To survive, all she needed to do was to keep that hard rubber
bit, clinched between her teeth perfectly still. Before he'd left, her husband David had explained the importance of keeping
the cord that linked the bit between her teeth with the spike's release switch taunt, even the slightest drop in tension would
trigger those hideous spikes.
And, as he'd left, David said something about returning to release Beth in the morning, that is, if she somehow managed to survive.
Ironically, it had been their shared love of medieval reenactments that had first brought them together. Beth had been working as an English barmaid at a convention for the Society of Creative Anachronisms in Glasgow when they'd met. Dressed as a group of Scottish knights just back from the Crusades, David and his friends had stopped off at the convention's theme tavern for a few pints before returning to their hotel. Even now, Beth fondly remembers that David was the first customer she'd met during the convention, male or female, that actually looked into her eyes as he ordered. And based upon the way Beth's barmaid's revealing ensemble intentionally drew customer's eyes to the ample exposed cleavage of her bosom, David's steady eye contact and disarming smile perked Beth's interest.
Later that evening, David came back to the tavern and somehow, just eight month's later, we were married. And while I held nothing back from David before our marriage, during the last week before our wedding I packed up my London apartment and shipped everything to an address David had given me in Scotland, I still managed to save a few surprises for our wedding night.
On our wedding night, as David's loving hands removed my wedding dress, he discovered that I was wearing a chastity belt. Smiling at his obvious surprise, I said, "David, as my husband my English virtue is now yours for the taking", kneeling before him I continued, "Please accept this key as a sign of my willing submission." And, after I gave him the gift wrapped handcuffs, let's just say the rest of our honeymoon was just fucking incredible!
Returning, after a month long honeymoon in the south of France, we officially took up residence in his family's castle on the Scottish coast. And as it turned out, my husband had arranged a rather erotic final wedding gift for me, a large and extensively equipped dungeon. Built in the early 1300's the castle and it's dungeons dated from the Scottish Wars of Independence, and while the dungeons had fallen into disrepair over the centuries, my husband hired several skilled yet discrete craftsmen to prepare them for our use while we'd been away on our honeymoon. That night as I helplessly watched David as he tightened the winch pulling my shackled wrists upward until my desperately stretching toes lost contact with the dungeon floor, he laughed as he said, "Beth, I bet you didn't know but back during the Wars, dozens of captured English knights were tortured for information and then murdered within these ancient dungeons." Picking out a heavy flogger, I listened as he continued, "Doesn't it seem ironic, your ancestors managed to finally defeat mine, and yet here we are, the descendant of an English knight about to suffer at the hands of a Scottish rebel's descendant." I would have responded with something witty but it's difficult to converse when you have an oversized ball gag filling your mouth and it's especially difficult when you're screaming.
David had been hinting for weeks that he'd planned something special for our first anniversary, something darkly erotic. And later that evening Beth's husband proved a man of his word, as he locked his wife into the execution chair's restraints and removed her blindfold.
All that remained now was for Beth to discover if she was destined to end up the same way as the dungeon's previous guests, those ancient English knights.