It was late Friday night, Gwen stood by the window lost in thought, a glass of excellent wine in her hand, gazing down at the lights in the valley below, a prosperous yet quant little ski resort a three-hour drive north of the city.

Taking another sip of wine, I pondered my abysmal sex life. Earlier that week I’d dumped my latest lover, Roger. Everyone I knew thought ours was a perfect match. At least, it always looked that way in public. The problem was that while I was in love with him, he only loved himself. I’m pretty sure that if you looked up the definition of Metrosexual on Wikipedia, it probably will feature one of his oh so cute selfies.

Arranging for two weeks off from the office, I drove up to stay at my family's ski chalet. I thought I’d spend a few quite days here by myself and do some skiing. It turns out being alone wasn’t really helping. Earlier that evening I’d actually considered taking the cable car down to the valley, going to one of the rowdier ski bars for a few drinks, and hopefully get seduced into a one-night stand.

I’d finally admitted the underlying problem with my love life. I was only dating guys who were by their very nature going to disappointment me. They were all too nice. They were gentle and caring. They bought me flowers and took me to the nicest restaurants. The problem was that, deep down, that wasn’t what I truly wanted. What I need is a bad man, one who’s as sadistic, as he is cruel. Perhaps one, seeing me on the slopes this afternoon, wearing my revealing skin-tight white Lycra ski suit, and secretly, followed me home...

A man, who at this very moment is silently slipping up behind me, his face concealed beneath a black ski mask and holding a large razor-sharp knife in his hand. I don’t realize he’s behind me until he grabs a handful of my hair and painfully pulls my head back to expose my slender throat for his knife, its deadly, ice cold, blade pressing against my skin as he whispers in my ear, “If you try to resist, I will cut your throat from ear to ear!”

Already trembling in fear I quickly respond, “Please, I do anything you what, just don’t hurt me.”

Keeping the knife pressed firmly against my throat, he releases his tight grip on my hair, “Hands together behind your back!” Complying, I hear a sudden ratcheting sound as I felt a cold metal band biting into my left wrist. Oh my god, he’s handcuffing my wrists behind my back!

Her wrist’s secure, Gwen’s captor kept the blade of his knife pressed against the skin of her throat as he gripped her upper arm, “Down on your knees, and try to be careful. I'd hate for you to slit your own throat by accident.”

Sinking down on to my knees, his knife pressing into my throat, I’m already fearful of the worst. Still, nothing could have prepared me for that sensation as that second pair of handcuffs tightening around my ankles. Oh fuck! He’s the infamous “Handcuff Killer” that I’ve been reading about in the papers. This sadistic maniac has already raped and murdered over a dozen women. His victim’s wrists and ankles always found handcuffed.

Slipping his knife back into its sheath, Gwen’s captor moved directly in front of her as he undid the front of his pants, revealing his massive erection. That delightful look of terror in her lovely green eyes as he grasped the sides of her head and guided his cock into the warmth of her sensuous mouth and pushed deep into her throat...

Hours later, I found myself lying on the hardwood floor, just before sunrise, watching as my abuser finished getting dressed. I’d never imagined feeling this used, this degraded, this humiliated. I was naked with my wrists and ankles locked in handcuffs before a complete psychopath who’d violated me in every possible way. I’m not sure about what kind of Viagra he was taking, but he managed to keep his erection up for at least four hours, climaxing multiple times in my mouth, vagina and rectum. Masturbating during those brief intervals when he wasn’t actually fucking me, he also managed to climax, his cum spraying all over my face and hair, my breasts and belly, even on my back.

Dressed, Gwen’s captor reached down, grasping a handful of her hair painfully forcing her back up onto her knees. Then taking a knee next to her, he removed his knife from its sheath and stabbed the long razor-sharp blade deep into Gwen’s belly before savagely twisting the blade to mutilate her insides.

The sudden explosion of pain went beyond anything I’d ever imagined. Doubling forward against his arm, I could already feel the heated wetness of blood running down my skin, tears welling up in my eyes as I felt that cold steel blade obscenely twisting deep inside me.

Finally, pulling his knife out of his latest victim’s guts, Gwen’s killer used the torn remains of her bodysuit to casually clean the blood off his knife as he watched her bleeding out.

Collapsing onto my side, I could feel myself growing weaker with each passing second, each shallow breath harder to take than the last, the tears running down my face as I stared up at the look of evil satisfaction in my killer’s cold eyes as I died for his amusement...

I felt myself tremble at the thought of dying in agony merely for a stranger’s sadistic amusement, the thought so delightfully erotic. Pausing to refill my wine glass, I slipped off the revealing teddy that I was wearing and picking up my large waterproof vibrator headed for the chalet’s deck, and its waiting hot tub, sometimes the darkest fantasies can be so impossibly arousing...