My heartbeat quickens as the garotte’s rope tightens snuggly around my throat, as the executioner asks, “Any final requests, Sandra?”
Pausing to take what could likely be my last breath, “Yes, I do. I don’t want a quick, painless death. I want to experience my darkest masochistic asphyxiation nightmare, a night of slow, agonizing torment that ends with my death at sunrise. The more you hurt me, the better. I want to feel the garotte’s rope crushing my throat, making every shallow breath a constant, horrifyingly delightful struggle against the inevitable.”
With a faint metallic click, the garotte tightened another notch, each metallic click drawing that rope tighter as it quickly became harder for Sandra to breathe. The executioner continued to tighten the garotte until Sandra’s breathing grew labored.
Smiling at the ragged, rasping sounds escaping Sandra’s luscious red lips as she desperately struggled to breathe, the executioner replied to her unexpected request, “Not to worry, I intend to make your demise as torturously unpleasant as possible. I already have dozens of skewers and irons heating in the brazier’s flames.”
As the night progressed, Sandra quickly discovered, to her horror, the level of unbearable brutality and mutilation the executioner was willing to inflict.
The agonizing torment went far beyond anything I imagined enduring. Not even in my darkest masochistic nightmares had I imagined suffering something this barbaric. The executioner started with my face, that first red-hot skewer piercing my nose, the next passing through both my cheeks, and the final through my tongue. Then, two more skewers through the front of my neck, skewering my throat.
Multiple red-hot skewers followed, piercing my shoulders, arms, and hands. Then, pausing only long enough to remove my corset and pull my thong and sheer black tights down to my ankles, the executioner used a red-hot iron to burn my nipples off before pushing dozens of skewers through my breasts until they resembled pin cushions. More skewers followed, sliding deep into my liver, kidneys, and intestines. And, since he seemed to have no interest in raping me, several more between my hips to pierce my vagina, uterus, and likely my rectum.
Noticing that I was going into shock, he paused long enough to inject me with powerful stimulants to keep me conscious as he picked up that red-hot iron and burned off my clitoris. With my clitoris destroyed, dozens of additional skewers followed, piercing my buttocks, thighs, and calves, with a final handful of skewers piercing my feet, where he used a hammer to drive them through the soles of my high heels.
Setting aside the hammer, the executioner glanced at the clock, “Well, it’s almost sunrise, and while I’m sure you couldn’t derive any masochistic pleasure from your agonizing torment, I found your suffering quite delightful.”
Reaching up, the executioner grasped the garotte’s handles and tightened the rope around Sandra’s neck. He watched her body convulse as the rope brutally squeezed her neck, crushing her throat while cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She lost consciousness almost immediately, with her heart stopping about four minutes later.
Retrieving a gurney, the executioner loosened the garotte from around her neck and lowered Sandra’s corpse onto the gurney. He considered pulling all the skewers out of her body for a moment, but ultimately, he decided against it. Instead, he’d dump her body into the acid tank the way she was. When he returned tomorrow, he’d retrieve the skewers as he removed Sandra’s acid-bleached bones from the acid.