This is so typical of him. The Baron always leaves the important things to his trusted executioner. I mean, if there’s a traitor or a spy to dispose of. He calls his executioner. So, when it’s time to dispose of an inconvenient mistress, one he no longer desires in his bed. Of course, he calls his executioner.

After almost four years of satisfying his every sickly perverted sexual desire, I thought we had something special, but I was wrong. Still, I thought the Baron cared enough to dispose of me personally if the time came. He should be walking toward me carrying that sword. Instead, he sent his anonymously hooded executioner to do his dirty work. Of course, facing the executioner has its upside. Having witnessed him terminating two traitors and a spy, I know he’s skilled with that sword. As for the Baron, I’ve never seen him draw his ceremonial blade from its sheath.

Stopping several feet from where the Baron’s mistress stood helplessly restrained, “Lady Alessandra, the Baron has signed your death warrant. Do you have any final requests before your execution?”

With a faint smile of resignation, I replied, “First, I’m no lady. I’m the Baron’s mistress and whore, nothing more. Second, you may find this hard to believe, but I truly reveled in satisfying his every perverted sexual desire regardless of how degrading or painful. I submitted to every unspeakable thing he demanded from me, and while they all weren’t as painful as I desired, they all fueled my darkly masochistic need to derive pleasure in my suffering.”

“So, my final request. I desire neither a quick or painless death. I wish to die as slowly and gruesomely obscene on your sword’s blade as possible. Please run me through and slowly twist that blade within my guts to maximize my agonizing torment. Keep me in unrelenting agony for as long as possible, then when my death draws near, pull that blade downward through my belly, disemboweling me. I want the last thing I see as I die to be the sight of my mutilated entrails spilling to the dungeon’s floor.”

Pausing as I watched the executioner move to stand directly in front of me, I looked up into his cold, hard eyes, “Can you do this for me?”

Rather than reply, the executioner ran Alessandra through with his sword, the razor-sharp blade sliding effortlessly through her guts as a sharp gasp of pain escaped her seductive ruby-red lips. Then, denying her time to recover, he slowly started twisting that blade within her belly.

As the slow torturous minutes passed, the executioner watched with growing amusement, as with every subtle twist of his sword, Alessandra’s body convulsed in agony around his blade, as fresh cries of agony escaped her lips.

For almost an hour, the executioner continued to brutalize the Baron’s beautiful masochistic mistress as the pool of blood around her high heels grew until he realized the time to end Alessandra’s life had finally arrived. Then, tightening his grip on the sword, he gave it one final twist within her guts before savagely pulling it downward as that blade effortlessly opened her belly.

Ultimately, it took almost ten minutes before Alessandra’s mutilated entrails finished spilling out of her ruined belly. Hanging limply from the wrist restraints, Alessandra struggled to lift her head, a lingering hint of darkly masochistic pleasure still on her face, as she looked into his eyes and managed to whisper, “Thank you,” before she lost consciousness and a few minutes later finished bleeding out.

Watching as a faint final shutter passed through Alessandra’s body as she died, the executioner found her death enlightening yet profoundly disturbing.

Enlightening because she was the fourth of the Baron’s mistresses that he’d executed in the past ten years and the first not to beg him to make her death quick and painless, not that he’d ever consider honoring such a request. And yet, with her masochistic desires, Alessandra lasted almost twice as long in the Baron’s bed as any of the previous three.

Still, he suspected that in the end, Alessandra, that little masochistic pain slut, had taken pleasure in her torturous demise. The executioner found the thought that she’d enjoyed her execution deeply disturbing. Somehow, it made him feel used...