Keira contacted the Toymaker and asked him to create something special for her, a purely evil machine, an autoerotic deathtrap. When he learned that its only victim would
be her, he happily agreed.
Two weeks later, Keira received an email from the Toymaker. “It’s ready.” Along with an electronic boarding pass for a first-class one-way ticket to Argentina for the next day, where she would find a limo waiting for her outside baggage claim.
Having discovered my submissively masochistic nature in my late teens, I’d moved to Los Angeles after high school. I was young, pretty, and using a phony ID that said I was twenty-one, soon had my first professional fetish modeling assignment, a bondage photo shoot. I loved the bondage sessions, the tighter and more restrictive, the better, with just enough physical discomfort to enflame my earliest masochistic desires.
As the years passed, I found myself drifting toward the more hardcore bondage shoots until I found myself immersed within the brutal underground torture porn industry. Working in torture porn was a masochistic wet dream come true, a bondage video where they intentionally plan on hurting you and take delight in the sound of your screams.
Now, in my late thirties, I’d finally retired from the business. Still, I wanted to do one final darkly masochistic video, something that would be utterly evil, to star in my very own snuff film. A snuff film that the Toymaker was more than happy to produce for me.
Late the next afternoon, I arrived at the Toymaker’s remote compound, a renovated fifteen-century Spanish fortress on the coast. That evening, after spending the afternoon resting, he brought me to this demonstration chamber where he’d set up my diabolically torturous autoerotic deathtrap. Entering the room, I stopped and stared at that horrifyingly evil device standing before me. The Toymaker had outdone himself, while the operation of my deathtrap was deceptively easy, it was also a brutally cruel machine, all that I’d imagined, and so much more. I’d also noticed the chamber’s video cameras were already recording the scene, as I delighted in the reality that I was going to suffer an agonizingly torturous death, starring in my very own snuff film. But, of course, at the time, I hadn’t realized just who the video’s intended audience was.
When I was ready, I walked over to the large pedestal-mounted red handle and pulled it down, powering up that evil deathtrap, causing its frame-mounted wrist and ankle cuffs to open. Then, with the restraints open, I carefully stepped around the front spikes and straddled the center of the device to stand between its two spike-lined panels.
I felt a delightful twinge of fear as I raised my arms and placed my wrists within the open padded cuffs. A moment later, the thermal sensors built into the cuffs, detecting the warmth of my skin, automatically closed the restraints around my wrists. With my arms secured, my legs quickly followed as I placed my ankles, one at a time, within their cuffs.
Hanging spread-eagle within the locked restraints, I felt the frame’s vertical tensioning system activate, gradually pulling my wrists upward as it simultaneously pulled my ankles downward until it stretched my body bowstring taut. The tension of the frame’s vertical tensioning system, while painful, I knew was little more than masochistic foreplay. Besides, I didn’t have long to wait for the evening’s grand finale. Those spike-lined panels were already starting to move, slowly swinging upward toward me as I helplessly watched them approach.
It took almost two minutes for those slowly approaching spikes to finally reach me. With each passing second, I could feel my heartbeat quicken at the delightfully horrifying thought of what was about to happen to me.
In the camera control room, the Toymaker watched a close-up view of Keira’s face as she watched the approaching spikes, that look of eager masochistic anticipation still visible in her lovely eyes as her sense of terror mounted. Then, her sudden sharp scream of pain as the first of those razor-sharp spikes sank into the smooth white skin of her upper thighs.
As the two spiked-lined panels continued to close, rows of spikes added to Keira’s unimaginably agonizing torment. Thirty seconds later, she hung impaled, her mutilated body fatally trapped between the two spike-lined transparent glass panels.
The Toymaker smiled as he glanced at the control room’s monitors. Thanks to the translucent panels, although blood-splattered, it was evident that the spikes of both panels had fully impaled Keira’s body, with the tips of the front panel’s spikes protruding several inches out of her back from her upper thighs to her shoulders. While in the front, the sharp points of the back panels also protruded obscenely from her mutilated body.
Watching as Keira coughed up more blood, the Toymaker delighted in the fact that she’d survived her impalement, although it was clear that she was quickly growing weaker with every agonizing moment.
Every inch of Keira’s revealing, sheer black lace bodysuit soaked in blood. Blood dripping from her crotch, steady streams of blood running down her legs, a quickly growing pool of blood covering the deathtrap and the surrounding floor beneath her.
A few minutes later, Keira’s head slumped forward, lifelessly resting against the top of the front panel, with a look of horror still visible in the close-up view of her lifeless eyes.
Even as the cameras continued to record the scene, the Toymaker’s phone rang. The pure evil of his latest deathtrap having impressed the Resort’s procurement agent, he agreed to purchase the original machine plus ordered five more. Happily, the Toymaker replied, “The original device would be crated up and shipped in the morning.”
As for Keira’s corpse, he assured the Resort’s agent that it would be accompanying the deathtrap in one of their cryogenic shipping containers. After all, a woman with a masochistic death wish this powerful truly deserves the fate of ending up as indentured Resort companion...