It’s a dark and stormy night in my dream, just like tonight. And, like tonight, I’m alone on my home’s covered patio when he comes for me. I see his reflection in the glass patio doors,
dressed all in black with just his eyes showing, eyes that seem cold and cruel, as he roughly grabs me from behind. Pinning my arms, he holds a rag over my mouth and nose, I try to
scream, but all that accomplishes is to pull the chloroform deeper into my lungs, as I quickly lose consciousness.
As the effects of the chloroform slowly wear off, I regain consciousness to discover a large ballgag filling my mouth and that I’m bound tightly spread-eagle upon a wooden Saint Andrews
cross with a painfully tight crotch rope between my legs. As my eyes slowly adapt to the chamber’s dim overhead lights, I suddenly realize the wooden cross is leaning slightly forward
over an ominously terrifying bed of sharp-looking spikes. Desperately I struggle to free myself from the cross’s restraints but quickly realize the ropes pinning me to the cross are too
strong and tight to escape.
Staring helplessly at those horrifying spikes, I find myself blushing with embarrassment that even in this utterly terrifying moment, I’m growing sexually aroused. The taut rope between my
legs pulls the crotch of my thong panties steadily tighter into the impossibly wet, heated folds of my sex. With every breath, that rope painfully rubs against my already throbbing clitoris,
only adding cruel stimulation to my growing arousal.
Despite my terrifyingly perilous position, I give into the moment, slowly shifting my hips to grind my crotch against that rope as I feel my orgasm approach. The tightness of my bonds and
the ballgag filling my mouth only submissively enhance the masochistically erotic mix of pleasure and pain radiating from my rope-abused crotch as I climax in one of the most powerful
orgasms of my life.
As I struggle to catch my breath, I’m appalled to hear someone clapping in the darkness as the chamber’s overhead lights slowly grow brighter. Blushing with renewed embarrassment, I realize
my abductor has been watching me this whole time. The lights continue to brighten until I see him sitting on a raised throne with a smug look of amusement as he casually fills his wine glass.
Pausing to remove his black face-concealing mask, he takes a sip of wine, “So Blair, I bet you’re wondering why I abducted you. Well, tonight, we will share an evening of darkly amusing
entertainment. Well, while it promises to be entertaining for me. To you, not so much.”
Setting aside his wine glass, he stood and walked over to stand behind the wooden cross, “While you’ve already discovered the erotic pleasure and pain that this crotch rope can inflict, you’ve
failed to realize it’s also the rope that’s keeping you from plunging to your death. After passing through your arousal-soaked crotch, this rope passes under the center of this X-shaped wooden
cross, goes over a ceiling-mounted pully, and down to the metal hook at the end of this heavy balance beam resting against the chamber’s floor. A sizeable wooden bucket hangs on the hook at the
far end of the balance beam.”
“In a moment, I will open the water valve and allow a slow trickle of water to pour into that bucket. It usually takes about ten minutes for enough water to collect in the bucket to begin
shifting the balance beam’s center of gravity. As that happens, the end of the balance beam attached to your crotch rope will slowly start to rise. As it does, the cross will gradually begin to
tilt further forward. Each time it does, the cross’s weight will shift slowly from its hinges to the rope between your legs, and your discomfort will increasingly become more painful.”
“Of course, the truly amusing part of the evening usually doesn’t occur until about thirty minutes later. That’s when the balance beam finally rises high enough for the end of your crotch rope
to slip off its hook, and you plunge onto the spikes. Oh, and don’t expect a quick or easy death. Those spikes are all positioned to maximize your suffering while keeping you alive for as long
as possible. Most women seem to last almost an hour before they finally lose enough blood to pass out, with death coming shortly after.”
Smiling darkly, he opened the valve just far enough to allow a slow trickle of water to pour into that bucket before returning to his throne and his waiting glass of wine.
As the terrifying minutes passed, I kept looking back at that slowly rising balance beam until I noticed the rope starting to slip toward the end of its hook. Glancing back at my abductor, I
could see him leaning forward, an unmistakable look of eager anticipation in his eyes as that rope finally slipped free, and I felt myself falling toward those deadly spikes.
Sadly, this is always the moment when I awaken, the sheets soaked with sweat and my overwhelming arousal. It’s always profoundly disappointing when I realize it’s just a dream...