Despite the certain knowledge that she would be soon enduring a lingering and hideously painful death
Christine didn't find it the least bit odd to realize she was excited. Having served in the Mesopotamian
Underworld as one of the goddess Ereshkigal's willing pleasure slaves for well over a hundred years she'd
come to accept the darkly fatalistic aspect of her willing subservience to Ereshkigal and to happily embrace
her total and overwhelming masochistic need to submit to the cruelest and most agonizing of torments.
And who would have thought that one of the worlds most infamous torturers of women, born all the way back in 1431, would come to appreciate the erotic aesthetics of a beautiful woman wearing nothing but stockings and high heels? Of course, from a practical standpoint, he would have quickly come to admire the way the smooth silkiness of a woman's stocking clad legs prevented her from slowing her agonizing decent onto the impalement post's deadly shaft.
As to her shoes, with their six inch stiletto heels, Christine had always known the seductive impact wearing a pair of tall "fuck me" heels could have on a man's lust, even a man born in 1431.
And while it seemed evident that six hundred years was sufficient time for even the most sadistic torturer who'd ever walked the earth to come to appreciate the eroticism of twenty first century woman's fashions, even Ereshkigal, the goddess of the death and the ruler of the Mesopotamian underworld hadn't been able to teach Vlad the Impaler the value of a watch, and as usual he's late.