Abby was beautiful, the hottest woman I’d ever met, or in this case I’d abducted. She was easy, a parking garage in the city, one where the security cameras were conveniently offline. It was dark. I slipped up behind Abby as she fumbled with her keys. A hand over her mouth and a hypodermic needle into the side of her neck and I owned her...

I awoke, on my knees with my wrists painfully chained to a steel bar high behind my ass. Struggling to my feet, I realized my abductor had stripped me of most of my clothing. My tight-fitting sweater and tighter knee-length pencil skirt were both gone. I was standing there in nothing but my lingerie, a black strapless, bust enhancing and waist clinching, vintage merry widow, matching thong panties, seamed silk stockings and six-inch spike heeled pumps.

Not how I normally dressed, but it was Friday night, the night my husband, and I indulged in our darkest fantasies, well most of them anyway. Mine submissive, his dominant, after dinner and a few glasses of wine, I expected to end up bound spread-eagle across our bed, that oversized ball gag filling my mouth while my husband used me vaginally and usually anally for his pleasure. And, if he removed that ball gag during the night, it was merely so that I could service him orally. As a submissive, with deeply engrained masochistic desires, our Friday nights have always been nights of unbridled hedonistic bliss. Of course, being kidnapped kind of puts a damper on this evening’s bliss part...

I was still staring at that impossibly sharp looking machete when a man wearing a face concealing leather hood stepped out of the shadows and raising his cell phone, took my picture.

“Abby I’m sending this photo to your husband, as proof of your abduction. He assured me that he’d transfer the second half of the payment to my numbered account in the Cayman Islands once I provided it to him.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as the meaning of his casual statement sank in, “My husband is paying you to abduct me?”

Smiling darkly, “Actually Abby, the first hundred thousand was for your abduction. The second half is to pay for your starring role in one of my custom snuff films, one that he personally ordered.”

It was in that moment that I first noticed the three video cameras arrayed around me, their red glowing lights confirming they were already recording. Glancing back at my abductor, I opened my mouth to scream but he was too quick, shoving a familiar looking, oversized black rubber ball gag back past my teeth, and threading the strap under my hair clinched its buckle painfully tight.

Watching as he used a torch to heat that first long wooden handled skewer until it glowed red-hot, as tears of terrifying desperation ran down my face, I had a horrifying sense of how he intended to use it. Grasping my left breast roughly, he positioned the skewer’s glowing tip against the side of my merry widow sheathed breast and slowly pushed the skewer into my flesh, the hot steel sliding effortlessly through my breast and appearing within my cleavage. Pausing to shift his painful grip from my left breast to my right, his pushed the still hot skewer deep into my right breast until it’s wooden handle pressed firmly against the outside of my impaled left breast.

The pain was worse than I’d ever imagined enduring, even in my darkest masochistic fantasies, but it was far from over, as I watched him using the torch to heat up that second razor-sharp skewer. Moments later, a faint high-pitched cry of agony escaped around that ball gag filling my mouth, as he cruelly pushed that hot skewer through my right breast and deep into my left.

Sobbing uncontrollably, I stared down at my mutilated once beautiful breasts in horror, as he activated the overhead hoist and lowered its steel cable downward. Slipping the hook that dangled from the cable’s end into the cleavage between my breasts, he hooked it around the two metal shafts of the skewers and activated the hoist.

Within seconds, the upward retreating hook lifted the toes of my high heels off the floor. With my wrists secured to the bar behind me, the agonizing and steadily increasing upward pressure on my breasts slowly forced my shoulders back, painfully arching my back before he finally shut off that hoist. The steady throbbing ache in my shoulders making it apparent that if he’d waited just a few more seconds that hoist would likely to have torn those skewers completely out of my breasts.

Then, grabbing each of my ankles in turn, he chained them tightly back against the wrist bar’s support brackets.

I couldn’t imagine that the evening could get any worse, but as it turns out, I was horribly wrong. That was the moment he brutally ran me through with that machete. I screamed into the gag as I felt him viciously twisting that blade inside my guts, each violent twist sending unbearable explosions of mind searing agony coursing through me.

I could feel myself slowly going into shock when he finally relented and pulled the machete out of my guts. I knew I was slowly bleeding to death, just please let me die. Sadly, there was still one indignity left to endure. He thrust his fingers into the wound in my belly and forced his entire hand into my abdomen. The sickening sensation of his hand moving inside me was nauseating, if I still had the strength, I think I would have thrown up. Then, as he finally pulled his hand out of my insides, I felt a sharp tugging sensation.

Watching the dying convulsions of Abby’s body gradually weakening, I continued pulling her intestines out of her belly as she died before my eyes. Sadly, she didn’t survive until the end of the grand finale, she was gone well before I finished removing her intestines...