Alicia, a Vegas showgirl, slowly awoke to find herself secured to a concrete wall by her wrists and neck. The last thing she remembered was walking off stage
and a sudden sharp stabbing pain in the side of her thigh, then darkness.
Slowly becoming aware of her surroundings, the more Alica noticed, the more terrified she became. Tables of hauntingly familiar instruments of torture. To her
right, some standard household tools, a hammer, chisel, and hacksaw. But, added to the mix were two cans filled with long, sharp-looking needles and a torch. On
her left were surgical instruments, scalpels, clamps, and several bone saws. And, far more ominous, half a dozen video cameras were set up to record what was
quickly promising to be a gruesome evening.
Moments later, Alicia heard the door to the basement open and then close, followed by the sound of boots descending the basement stairs as a man wearing a
face-concealing metal mask came into view. The sight of that distinctive metal mask both terrified and, to her surprise, sexually excited Alica. She was in the
presence of the Ghost, one of the world’s most elusive serial killers, rumored to have murdered several hundred women. She’d even seen several of his snuff films.
A faint smile appeared on Alicia’s face, “So, Ghost, what are your plans for this evening? Since I don’t have breast implants, I’m guessing you’ll start with an hour
or so of brutal torturer and gruesome breast mutilation, dozens of red-hot needles pressed painfully deep into my breasts, culminating with using that torch to burn
off my nipples, followed by my clitoris.”
“Then comes the evening’s grand finale, where you stab that knife deep into my upper abdomen. Then, pulling that blade brutally down through my body, mutilating my
guts as it opens my belly from the underside of my ribcage to my crotch, in your gruesome signature explosion of blood and gore as I slowly bleed to death for your
audience’s sick, perverted amusement.”
Pausing to force an oversized ballgag deep into Alicia’s mouth, Ghost replied, “Of course, you forgot to mention that once I use the remote to switch on the cameras, I’ll
rip off your enticingly revealing showgirl costume before lighting the torch. After that, no one in my audience will miss the agonizing desperation in your gag-stifled
screams, and I promise you’ll be screaming to the very end as you helplessly watch your mutilated entrails spilling to the basement floor.”
Like everything in Vagas, what happens in the basement stays in the basement. After all, that’s where the Ghost will dispose of Alicia’s dismembered body in that tank of flesh-consuming acid...