Lately, I’ve been having the same darkly reoccurring nightmare. One moment, I’m here standing in the warmth of the fireplace at my Berkshire retreat, the next I’m
within the dungeons of Nuremberg castle. My captor is the city’s high executioner, a man known as the Punisher, a cruel monster who over three hundred years ago,
used the infamously gruesome Virgin of Nuremberg to execute countless women for the crimes of adultery and promiscuous behavior.
Dragging me into the dungeon’s barbaric torture chamber, the Punisher shoves me up against the side of a large roughly hewn wood table and placing a hand between
my shoulder's forces me face down across its surface. I can feel the sharp edge of the table digging into my hips as he pulls my wrists together behind my back and
quickly binds them with a leather strap. Moments later, a second strap goes around my elbows, pulling them painfully closer until they touch before he finally buckles
it tight. Roughly grabbing my hair and pulling me back onto my feet, he rips my nightgown from my body leaving me, except for my high heels, nude as he drags me
helplessly toward the ominous Virgin.
Paralyzed with fear, I watched helplessly as the Punisher opens the front of the Virgin’s upright iron sarcophagus revealing the rows of hideously sharp-looking iron
spikes that line the door's interior. Within moments, he forces me up onto its pedestal and into the Virgin’s claustrophobic confines and straps my tightly in place.
As the Punisher slowly starts to close the Virgin’s door, “Now harlot, you will pay for your adulteress behavior with blood. Tonight the Virgin will exact its horrifyingly
torturous price for your unforgivable indiscretions. Death in the Virgin is never easy or quick. Over the long coming hours, you will suffer in unrelenting agony for your sins.”
A moment later, my high-pitched screams echo within the interior of the Virgin’s iron sarcophagus as the Punisher pushed the door fully closed, driving all those
deadly spikes deep into my body and eyes.
Carefully positioned to maximize a woman’s suffering without risking any mortal wounds, the smooth tapered shape of the Virgin’s spikes also helps to seal the wounds
they inflict and reducing the victim’s bleeding to a mere trickle.
As the long torturous hours pass, the unimaginably agonizing pain remains unrelenting. With ever shallow breath I manage to take, I can feel the spikes scraping between
my ribs and twisting within my guts and legs.
In the end, I managed to survive for almost two agonizingly torturous days before I finally succumbed to the Virgin’s diabolically cruel embrace.
Pausing to take another sip of wine, I can feel my erect throbbing nipples brushing delightfully against the silky lace of my nightgown as the warm wetness of my arousal
slowly coats the apex of my inner thighs, I imagine myself being three hundred years in the past, chained to the wall in Nuremberg’s dungeons. The Punisher is standing before me.
I can tell from the look in his hooded eyes that he knows just how aroused I truly am. I close my eyes as I feel his leather gloved hand slipping up under the short hem of
my revealing nightgown. A faint gasp of carnal delight escapes my lips as he slides two of his finger deep into the warm wet depths of my sex as his thumb firmly rubs against
my clitoris. I imagine the look of amusement on his face as I shamelessly grind myself against his invading fingers.
His fingers still inside me, he leans in and whispers, “You thought I wanted to abuse your body, but death is the fate I have in store for you, a slow and torturously
agonizing death within the Virgin of Nuremberg’s diabolic embrace...”