Erica felt tears of horror welling up within her eyes as she watched Ereshkigal, the ancient Sumerian goddess of
death, casually walking off into the darkness. Alone in the hideous depths of one of 's
countless dungeon torture chambers Erica, one of Ereshkigal's newest willing pleasure slaves, struggled to fully
accept her new existence.
A meek and mild mannered first grade teacher, Erica had long suppressed her darkly submissive desires. Her secret
fantasizes of slavery, of willingly surrendering her freedom, even her life, merely for the sadistic amusement of
others. Dreams of torturous nights of agonizing torment in the darkest dungeons of her mind, of enduring unimagined
pain, of nightmares of lingering blood drenched death.
Perhaps if she hadn't been on vacation in Mexico, perhaps if she hadn't drank so many margaritas, perhaps if she'd
had time to think about it she'd never accepted Ereshkigal's Faustian bargain. If in fact she'd hardly hesitated before
enthusiastically agreeing to the terms of her enslavement. Eternal youth and beauty, an eternity filled with days of
unimagined pleasures of the flesh, all hers in exchange for her willingly submission to spending her nights enduring
unrelenting and obscenely torturous death for all eternity.
One moment she'd been wearing a bikini in some beach side cantina in Mexico, the next she found herself naked, collared,
and with her wrists bound tightly behind her back while being dragged down some ancient looking stone passageway by
something she instinctively recognized as a troll.
Eventually Erica found herself someplace she'd never in her darkest nightmares imagined she'd ever find herself, astride
a medieval implement of torture infamous for being used by the Inquisition to extract confessions of heresy from unwilling
young women, the horse. Even in the midst of her unrelenting agony Erica found herself admiring the brutal simplicity of
the horse. The way the horse's thick iron rail forced her thighs apart and in doing so spreading the folds of her sex just
far enough to allow the horse's sharp upper edge to nestle within. The way the tight inescapable iron manacles around her
ankles kept her completely helpless while forcing her weight just far enough forward to agonizingly crush her clit against
the horse's sharp unyielding upper edge.
Lost in the intensely erotic fulfillment of her darkest most masochistic fantasies of willing submission, the sudden
sensation of Ereshkigal's leather gloved fingertips brushing against the moist quivering curve of her lips came as a
complete surprise.
Sensing the masochistic lust threatening to overwhelm what little remained of Erica's senses, Ereshkigal ran her fingertips
slowly down the helpless woman's body, watching as her gloved fingertips left a faint track in the dampness of Erica's sweat-soaked skin.
"I'm glad you've enjoyed your introduction into the torturous pleasures available within my dungeon torture chambers
but we really should move on to the highlight of tonight's entertainments." Smiling darkly at Erica's obvious confusion
the death goddess continued, "I promise we'll get started in just a few minutes. I just need to sharpen the knives."