Staring in horror at the Judas Cradle’s massive iron tip Daphne knew she was going to die, and that if her husband Charles had his way, it would be a slow and agonizingly torturous affair, an unspeakably unpleasant fate she already knew she richly deserved. She’d been having affairs for years. It was inevitable that her husband would eventually discover her infidelity, and while she’d secretly fantasized about all the painfully torturous ways, she might end up dying for her adultery, there was one fiendishly diabolical instrument of death, in Charles's private little museum of horrors, that had always haunted her darkest nightmares.

Glancing back at her husband as he picked up a set of closely links iron manacles, “I know you have your heart set on using this Judas Cradle to torture me to death but isn’t it a little historically inappropriate? Didn’t the Inquisition, use this Judas Cradle to extract confessions of heresy and witchcraft from thousands of women? And, if I remember correctly, while over one hundred women who actually died upon the torturous device, not one died for the crime of adultery.”

Smiling at the sudden thoughtful look on her husband’s face, Daphne walked across her husband’s museum of horrors, “Wouldn’t this historically be a vastly more appropriate fate for the crime of adultery? As I recall, this unspeakably cruel instrument of agonizing death, was created specifically for the brutal punishment of women found guilty of adultery, the Iron Maiden?”

Stepping up onto the Iron Maiden’s raised stone pedestal, Daphne ran her fingers across the cool smooth metal of her darkest nightmare, the Iron Maiden’s upright, spike-lined sarcophagus. An evil look of anticipation slowly appeared on her face, “Besides, while the Judas Cradle is undoubtedly painful, you’ll only get to watch me suffer for a few short hours before I die. However, within the Iron Maiden, you’ll get the satisfaction of listening to me screaming in unrelenting agony for at least two days or longer before I die. If I’m going to die for my indiscretions, why not maximize both my torturously agonizing torment as well as for your personal diabolical amusement?”

In the end, Daphne’s slow torturous demise vastly exceeded Charles’s expectations, brutally impaled upon the Iron Maiden’s razor-sharp spikes. She managed to survive, screaming in unrelenting agony, for just over three and a half, thoroughly amusing, days before she finally died...