The castle overlooking the city fell out of repair in the late 1600s. It remained empty until the cultural revolution of the 1970s when its newly elected board of trustees realized the castle’s potential
profitability as a fetish playground. They renovated the castle, turning its sixteen bedrooms into luxury fetish-themed accommodations. At the same time, they assured the dungeon torture chamber retained
its darkly ominous environment, its instruments of brutal torture promising their masochistically inclined guests a torturously authentic experience. The castle’s guests never realized that many of the
most beautiful women willingly entering this torture chamber never left it. Their bleached bones piled against the chamber’s walls, the only reminder of their ultimately fatal visit.
Entering the castle’s ancient dungeon torture chamber, Paige was a ravishingly beautiful fetish vision of willing masochistic submission. Far more erotically enticing than if she’d been completely nude.
I desperately longed to embrace all my darkest masochistic nightmares without fully realizing the price that some of the torture chamber’s more brutally diabolic amusements might demand.
It only took a single glance for the chamber’s sadistically demanding torturer to decide Paige’s fate.
Waiting until Paige finished her glass of wine, he took the glass from her hand and strapped her wrists tightly behind her back. He used a second leather strap to encircle her elbows, drawing them together
until they touched before buckling it uncomfortably tight. Then grasping the ring dangling at the front of her slave collar, he led Paige toward the back of the torture chamber, her lovely eyes growing wide
with terror as she realized he was leading her toward the chamber’s ominous-looking Iron Maiden.
Unlocking the Iron Maiden, the torturer swung its heavy metal door open and forced me to step up onto the Maiden’s raised stone pedestal. An involuntary gasp of fear escaped my lips at the sight of all those
impossibly sharp-looking spikes lining the interior of the Iron Maiden’s door. Still starring at all those terrifying-looking spikes, the torturer forced me back into the Maiden’s form-fitting claustrophobic
metal sarcophagus and started strapping me into the Iron Maiden.
Tightening the final strap securing Paige helplessly within the Iron Maiden, the torturer smiled evilly beneath his face-concealing hood, “Paige, your agonizing death within the Iron Maiden will not be easy
or quick. The Maiden exacts a terrifying price on its victims, a slow lingering death of suffering in unrelenting agony as you slowly bleed to death over two or three days.”
Starring at all those spikes, especially the two horrifying ones destined for my eyes, the torturer slowly started to close the Iron Maiden. I still couldn’t believe that the torturer actually intended to
finish closing that Iron Maiden’s door. I thought that he was merely trying to terrify me and, in fact, utterly succeeding in doing so.
The torturer could see the look of overwhelming terror in Paige’s eyes the moment before the approaching spikes pierced them. Her high-pitched scream of pure agony echoed off the torture chamber’s ancient
stone walls for the moment before the Iron Maiden’s heavy spike-lined door closed, muffling her desperate cries.
Paige’s cries and faint moans of agony grew steadily weaker until late on her second night within that diabolic Iron Maiden, her tormented cries finally ceased. Knowing from experience that blood loss had
finally rendered Paige unconscious, he left her in the Maiden until the morning to give her time to finish bleeding out. The next day, he added her acid-bleached bones to one of the chamber’s steadily
growing piles, appending Paige’s name to the long list of beautiful women who’d paid the ultimate price for indulging in the torture chamber’s diabolic amusements...