Nina knew something was off the moment she entered that abandoned farmhouse. Half a dozen video cameras ringed the center of the room, and over a dozen large candles lighted the interior instead of the usual video flood lights. Also, a pile of skulls was on the table, and what looked frighteningly like actual human bones littered the floor. Also, the video’s producer was wearing a disturbing metal mask.

I’d done quite a few bondage and torture porn videos and done or had done to me, some seriously sick shit, but this just felt off. Still, the producer paid me several thousand for just a few hours of my time this evening.

Turning to Nina, the producer mentioned, “I’ve set up a dressing room for you, the first door at the top of the stairs. You’ll find your costume on the table. Do your makeup and change so we can get started.”

The spell broken, I felt myself relaxing, “Ok, I’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.”

About thirty minutes later, I came back downstairs. While wearing six-inch spike heels, the trip down the stairs was tricky, but I managed to avoid tumbling down the steps.

“If you’d go over to the tape mark on the floor, I’ll get you all set up.”

Stopping on the tape, I felt my heartbeat quicken at the sight of those two gleaming steel wrist restraints dangling from chains linked to bolts in the ceiling. I’ve been into bondage since college, and those restraints were a severe turn-on. Honestly, sometimes I still can’t believe photographers and video producers pay me to let them tie me up.

Stopping behind me, I could feel the heat of his body mere inches away as he raised my right arm, then my left, and secured my wrists in the snug-fitting steel restraints. With that leather slave collar already around my neck, the sight of the large ballgag sent a shiver of masochistic excitement coursing through me as I thought, well, that explains the lack of a dialog script.

“So, before you gag me, I’d like to ask about what’s going to happen once the video cameras start to record.”

Pressing the massive ballgag deep into Nina’s mouth, the producer clinched the strap uncomfortably tight before responding, “Well, the plot involves a beautiful up-and-coming bondage model who agrees to do a bondage video with a producer she hasn’t worked with before. She doesn’t know him, but the money is too good to pass up, so she agrees. The downside is she’s not starring in a bondage video. Instead, she’s fated to play the fatal leading role in an actual snuff film.”

Pausing to reassure that the restraints around Nina’s wrist were securely locked, the producer continued, “She’s brutally tortured with a high-voltage cattle prod for most of the video. Or, at least until the cattle prod’s batteries finally give out.”

“Only then do we move on to the video’s grand finale, where her killer stabs his razor-sharp machete into her belly. Painfully twisting its blade deep inside her, her killer brutally rips her guts apart before pulling the blade downward through her abdomen. Disemboweling her in a fiendishly delightful explosion of blood and gore, as she dies, screaming in agony for the cruel amusement of her killer’s sadistically demanding video audience.”

The producer paused to pick up that intimidatingly large cattle prod, “Of course, Nina, it would be rude of me not to introduce myself before torturing you to death. My real name is of no consequence in this place of blood and death, but I’m known simply as the Ghost to my loyal fans.

The Ghost? That’s impossible. He’s just an urban legend, an infamous monster suspected in the disappearances of hundreds if not thousands of women, but this was no legend concocted to frighten young, unsuspecting women. Those women didn’t just disappear. They were brutally tortured to death, dying simply to produce the Ghost’s gruesome snuff videos.

Ghost raised that cattle prod and pressed the activation switch. The loud crackle of electricity filled the room as terrifying blue lightning bolts of electricity raced up and down the cattle prod’s thick metal shaft. As bolts of electricity flashed along the cattle prod, the true horror of the moment finally sank in. All this, the Ghost, and everything is horrifyingly real, and I’m the next woman doomed to star in one of his sinister snuff videos.

Switching off the cattle prod, I could hear the darkly ominous tone in his voice, “It may interest you to know that while you were upstairs changing into your costume, I put freshly recharged batteries into this cattle prod. They should provide almost an hour of unbearably agonizing torment before we move on to the video’s delightfully messy grand finale.”

In those final moments, before the pain overwhelmed my senses, I imagined all those sickly twisted perverts jerking off as they watched my slow and brutally torturous death. Perhaps, if I’d known that the Ghost was real and I was going to die in his latest snuff video, I’d have done it for free. After all, to die a torturous death, this gruesomely diabolic, is every masochistic pain slut’s darkest erotic nightmare...