Frost felt a terrifying sense of foreboding as Nergal, the ancient Sumerian god of war and pestilences, led her up the steep
stone staircase within the Mesopotamian Underworld temple. Naked with her wrists bound tightly behind her it required all her
will, that and the steady pressure of Nergal's strong hand pressing against the small of her back, to keep the Frost moving up
the steep stone steps. With every step upward, the bloodcurdling screams echoing form above becoming steadily more terrifying.
As she finally ascended to the top of the ancient stone temple, Frost finally understood the fiendishly cruel fate that she'd endure on this her first evening of willing subservience to the death goddess Ereshkigal. Turning she stared in horror at the two young women already struggling in unimaginable agony, their beautiful nude bodies sinking slowly upon unyielding steel impalement posts.
The sudden increased pressure of Nergal's hand against the skin of her back sent a renewed sense of terror coursing through Frost's body as he silently urged her toward her own impalement post. In horrified desperation Frost turned and looked up into Nergal's eyes in hopes of finding mercy, but what she found was something far darker, far more fiendish.
Staring into the dark insidious depths of Nergal's cold dark eyes, Frost felt a sudden inner calmness spreading throughout her body. In that one instant she completely understood that Nergal possessed none of mankind's expected mortal weaknesses. In his eyes she saw her own torturous death, repeated in endless variations until the end of time. Like the death goddess Ereshkigal, her husband Nergal embodied the ultimate expression of sadism. In that instant of understanding Frost finally realized the horrifying truth of her willing subservience as one of Ereshkigal's pleasure slaves. That in the depths of the Mesopotamian Underworld the concept of limits, of safe words, of mercy, simply didn't exist. That willing subservience to the torturously deadly whims of the death goddess meant accepting her submissive part in the underworld's eternal cycle of death and debauchery, to finally embrace openly and for all time her dark and long suppressed masochistic nature.
Turning back to face the silently waiting impalement post, Frost stepped forward until she stood directly behind it's deadly steel shaft. Staring down at the massive tip of the polished steel shaft Frost felt her own body's desperate longing for agonizingly slow death to come. In that final moment of acceptance Frost completely surrendered to her own darkly masochistic longing to endure agonizing torment merely for the sadistic amusement of her infinitely cruel and sadistic masters.
Frost felt her heart racing as she felt Nergal's impossibly strong hands grasping her just beneath the breasts and effortlessly lift her from the temple's raised platform. Pausing as he lifted the willing pleasure slave toward the tip of the waiting impalement post, Nergal leaned over and whispered into Frost's ear, "Try to grip the shaft with your feet, you really can't do much to slow the shaft's progress but the death goddess love's it when her pleasure slaves struggle against the inevitable. And try to stay up on your toes for as long as possible when you finally sink far enough for your toes to touch the floor, it helps prolong and heighten your torment."
Positioning Frost above the massive unyielding tip of the impalement post Nergal smiled darkly as he watched Frost's instinctively move to grasp the smooth steel shaft of the post between her feet. He loved the way Frost's beautiful body trembled with dark masochistic anticipation as the cold blunt tip of the impalement post pressed into the heated moistness of her sex. The sudden stiffening of Frost's shapely young body as the unyielding tip of the shaft finally reached her cervix. That lovely explosion of pain and panic as he stepped away and Frost's full weight rested upon the impalement post's brutal steel shaft for the first time. That first high-pitched scream of unmitigated horror as deep within her belly Frost felt the muscles of her cervix beginning to fail under the unrelenting pressure of her own body pressing down against the impalement post's tip.
Watching the doomed struggles of their latest willing pleasure slaves, Ereshkigal and Nergal enjoyed the three dying young women's torturous demises. And as expected, all three lasted well into the second day on their impalement posts before the last finally expired. And as Nergal expected, Frost managed to linger the longest before she died.
Walking over to where the young woman's body still stood obscenely upright on the impalement post, Nergal looked into Frost's lovely lifeless eyes and smiled, this beauty deserves my personal attention. If Frost thought riding an impalement post was an obscenely torturous way to die, wait until she's spends a night in my bedů