Just before he’d cruelly run me through with that sword Nergal had mentioned something about days of unimagined sexual pleasure but even in my wildest dreams I’d never imagined anything quite as overwhelming as this. My body was his to do with as he pleased and he took me in ways I’d never imagined possible, and it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that Nergal finally relented, I guess even an ancient God can have stamina issues.

Afterward, as I laid there in the warm sun, basking in the orgasmic afterglow of the most impossibly erotic day of my life, I suddenly felt Nergal’s eyes upon me. My eyes met his and once again I found myself utterly captivated by the darkly erotic mix of lust and sadistic cruelty staring back at me.

It was then that I once again heard in my mind, “Once my beautiful and insatiable slave, you were mortal but no more. You are now and until the end of time, a willing pleasure slave in eternal service to my wife, the death goddess Ereshkigal. As such, you will remain young and beautiful for all eternity, your days filled with endless erotic pleasures beyond imagination, but the gifts bestowed upon you by Ereshkigal come at a fiendishly diabolical cost. Every evening at sunset you will once again find yourself trapped within the darkest depths of Mesopotamian Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers, there to endure a slow and painfully agonizingly death.”

I could feel my pulse quicken in terror as he paused, the look of lust fading from his eyes until nothing but the cruelty remained. Smiling darkly he casually added, “And if I’m not mistaken, the sun’s about to set, welcome to the Mesopotamian Underworld’s endless cycle of pleasure and pain.” But by then I could already feel myself once again falling into darkness.

I awoke to once more find myself within the darkest depths of the Mesopotamian Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers, the flickering flames of the fire providing just enough light to make out the ominous shapes of torture instruments arrayed along the chamber’s ancient stone walls. I was still struggling to find enough courage to take a closer look at those diabolical devices when I heard the distinctively familiar sound of stiletto heels approaching from the darkness.

I felt a sudden chill, almost as if the chamber’s temperature had suddenly dropped, as I watched the woman I instinctively knew to be Ereshkigal, the goddess of death. She was unimaginably beautiful and yet somehow terrifying beyond description. As she drew closer she smiled at my obvious fear, her eyes glowed like the fires of hell and I smelled the faint hint of brimstone in the air, she was Ereshkigal, death incarnate.

I could feel her eyes upon as she slowly walked around inspecting me, and then, like with Nergal, I heard her voice inside my head, “I hope you enjoyed spending your first day here in the Mesopotamian Underworld being pleasured by my husband Nergal. I do love him dearly but still I find his tastes for amusement down here in the dungeon torture chambers a bit to direct for my tastes. I guess since he’s the god of war his tastes are a bit more violent than my own. I’m sure, from your standpoint, that sword through your guts seemed unimaginably painful, but still you bled out and died within just a few short minutes didn’t you.”

Ereshkigal could already feel the delightful taste of terror building within her newest pleasure slave, the pounding of her terrified heart, the delightful taste of her uncontrollable fear.

Staring up into Ereshkigal’s glowing eyes there was no sign of lust only cold sadistic cruelty. In that brief moment our eyes met and I once again heard the deathly cold of her voice in my head as she continued, “Here in the dungeon torture chambers of my realm you will discover a level of torment and suffering far beyond anything imagined possible. Last night my husband Nergal allowed you a quick death but that will not be the case tonight. Tonight, your death will only come after long hours of brutal unrelenting agony.”

I could feel the horrifying coldness in Ereshkigal’s voice as she said, “I grant my pleasure slaves with eternal life and beauty but in exchange you’re destined to spend every night for the rest of eternity down here in my torture chambers dying in slow unrelenting agony for my amusement.”

I could almost hear the sound of laughter in her voice, “And, since you spent the day in my husband’s bed I have the perfect demise in store for you tonight. I understand, that back in the dark ages, this was the preferred form of punishment for the crime of adultery, the iron maiden.”

I still fondly remember my first few terrifying nights spent down here in the blood-drenched depths of the Mesopotamian Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers. The long agonizing hours of unrelenting torment as Ereshkigal’s carefully selected executioners slowly and methodically tortured me to death night after night. Even now, countless centuries later the very thought of enduring another long night of agonizing torture and death is still utterly and completely terrifying to me. Perhaps, as a pleasure slave, that’s part of its darkly erotic attraction.

As to what’s going to happen to me tonight, this is one of the Underworld’s torture chambers that I’ve come to rightfully fear, this is the torture chamber used by Vasilie and Demetri, two of the most fiendishly diabolical individuals that I’ve had the painful displeasure of being tortured to death by. Dying by their hand is never easy or quick, these guys are truly artists at the sadistic art of torture. Even thinking about what happened the last time they entertained me is still terrifyingly unnerving. I spent that night screaming in unrelenting agony before I died, and even then, I only died because one of them got a little too carried away with that vaginal pear.

The pleasure slaves call them the Ivan brothers. Once long ago, before Ereshkigal recruited them, they worked in the dungeons of Ivan the Terrible. That, and being identical twins, none of us can tell them apart.

Despite spending every night being brutally tortured to death, there are some pretty nice perks, beyond the endless days of erotic bliss, that being one of Ereshkigal’s willing snuff toys has to offer. Nergal explained that the death goddess grants her pleasure slaves eternal life and beauty. And that the passage of time only heightens a pleasure slave’s beauty as our bodies respond to our personal perception of ourselves until even the most minor of flaws fades away.

But, there’s one minor detail about dying for Ereshkigal’s amusement that Nergal failed to mention. Time has no meaning in the Mesopotamian Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers. Down here, the night can last for a brief but brutal ten minutes or a lingering hundred hours of unrelenting agony. Down here, the night lasts for as long as it takes you to die screaming in agony.