It was Friday night. Upstairs in the attic of their historic mansion one the shores of the Hudson River, Molly eagerly awaited her husband
Jeff getting home from work, her provocatively suggestive note lying prominently upon the table in the foyer where he always left his keys.
I thought that tonight, if you’d like to join me upstairs in the attic, where I’d love to fulfil one of your erotic and darkly brutal fantasies, one of the ones you’ve been secretly writing all those intensely kinky torture porn stories about.
All my love, Molly
From the attic windows, Molly watched the heavy security gate closing behind Jeff’s car as he drove up to the house before turning into the garage. Familiar with his evening routine, she easily visualized him getting out of his car, going up the steps from the garage, pausing to hang his coat and scarf in the foyer closet before placing his keys in the silver tray on the foyer table, where he'd discover her note. His curiosity already intrigued, he’d drop his keys on the tray and taking his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, read her note. She smiled as she imagined the look of surprise on her husband’s face as he realized she knew about his secret foray into the world of writing brutally sadistic erotic horror.
Staring at her reflection in the old full-length mirror that she’d found up here in the attic, covered with a grimy dust covered cloth, a faint grin of eager anticipation slowly appearing on her face as, she heard her husband coming up the stairs to the attic.
Trying to keep from giggling at the profoundly amusing look of shock and surprise on Jeff’s face as he burst through the attic door and immediately stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her standing there watching him in the mirror’s reflection, “So, about me fulfilling one of your darkest erotic fantasies.”
Pausing to glance back over her shoulder at the hangman’s noose dangling suggestively behind her, Molly continued, “Care to guess which of your intensely erotic torture porn stories I found most stimulating?”
Smiling at the look of darkly eager anticipation on her husband’s face, “However, before we discuss which of your darkest erotic fantasies we’re going to fulfil tonight, I think we should first enjoy a few glasses of this delightful Merlot I’ve thoughtfully opened to breathe. Personally, I’ve found everything is always better when accompanied by a good glass of wine. Of course, with my wrists shackled behind my back, I’m going to need some help with my glass.”
Molly could sense Jeff was lost in thought as he walked over and picked up the two wine glasses. Watching as her husband struggled to come to grips with this unexpected turn of events, “So Jeff, while I found all of your stories unimaginably erotic, as I mentioned, I did find one of your stories profoundly appealing. I even went as far as acquiring the props you’ll need during the story's erotically gruesome and bloody finale.”
Glancing down at the table, Jeff noticed the antique cane and the incredibly sharp-looking carving knife, the sudden realization of exactly which story so infatuated Molly bringing a dark smile of evil anticipation to his face.
Molly felt her heartbeat quicken at the evil grin on her husband’s face as he turned toward her holding the two glasses of wine, “I also think we’ll have time to finish this excellent bottle of wine, then I’ll step up onto that stool, and you can put that noose around my neck before kicking that stool from beneath my feet. Oh, and after I’m dangling from that noose, feel free to fuck me senseless. After all, besides the orgasms, with my legs wrapped tightly around your waist, I might survive for almost an hour, slowly strangling for your amusement, before it’s finally time to snuff me.”
Pausing to take a sip for the offered wine glass, Molly smiled coyly, “And while your story culminates with the killer selecting the cane, impaling the woman anally, then slowly forcing the cane upward through her body until its tip ruptures her heart, I’d like to suggest a slight more gruesome finale for tonight’s rather torturously deadly entertainment.”
Seeing that she’d perked her husband’s diabolical interest, she continued, “Instead of rupturing my heart, angle the cane to the right, that way it misses my heart and punctures my right lung instead. That way, I’ll hopefully still be alive and conscious to watch my guts spilling onto the attic floor when you take that knife and disembowel me.”
Glancing suggestively at the prominent bulge in the front of her husband’s pants, Molly smiled as she sank down onto her knees and submissively asked, “So, until I’m dangling from that noose, what does your wife need to do to earn another glass of wine?”