Cynthia’s request to meet was a complete surprise to Jason. His on-again, off-again relationship with her older sister Veronica culminated in her disappearance over seven years ago. The time and place where Cynthia requested their meeting also came as a disturbing surprise. Midnight at the old Chadwick Funeral, a long-abandoned funeral home in the East End, where he’d met Veronica on that fateful night.

Seeing the expected look of surprise on Jason’s face, I smiled seductively, “Good evening, Jason. I’m happy you decided to join me. Several years ago, I discovered what happened to Veronica and your rather diabolic part in her disappearance. You see, I found her diary. Did you know she kept meticulous notes as she planned her torturously brutal final night?”

Seeing the shock in his eyes, I continued, “Did you also know she kept detailed accounts of her sex life? Especially those nights when you’d invite her out to that pub in the village for dinner and drinks before taking her to your farmhouse, where you tied her to your bed, gagged her, and then fucked her deep and hard in the ass, using just enough lube to assure your pleasure with no thought to hers. Did you know she was enjoying the pain? Like me, my sister was quite the masochist. She even wrote in her diary that you used too much lube when ravaging her ass.”

Pausing to suggestively fondle my corset-enhanced breasts, “So, I assume that if she survived impalement, you took full advantage of her anally before she died. And, if she did live through all that, did you wait a few hours before gutting her?”

A faint smile slowly appeared on Jason’s face as he fondly recalled Veronica’s final night, “I was surprised when she actually survived her impalement, the tip of that massive, steel impalement post protruding obscenely upward from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. I used her anally four times that night, and I recall she came at least a dozen times before I finally disemboweled her. I even used her once more as her guts spilled out, and she still had a few more orgasms before she died, just a minute or so before I finally reached orgasm myself.”

Glancing over at that massive buzzsaw and the restraints along the sides of its raised steel blade guide, Jason smiled as he watched Cynthia fondling her full firm breasts, “So, based upon you’re intensely erotic outfit and that ominously gruesome buzzsaw, I’d guess that you’re not interested in a slow lingering death by impalement or giving me the opportunity of ravaging your tight little ass as you die.”

Sliding my hands down onto my corset-compressed waist, I said, “Sorry, but while my sister and I shared similar wicked desires. I don’t have the same fascination with impalement as my sister. My darkly erotic nightmares are more ominously damsel in distress oriented, where the suspense builds as the evil villain sends me to my agonizing and obscenely messy death beneath the buzzsaw’s sharp spinning blade. And, if you insist on ravaging me after securing me on that blade guide, I think you’ll find my mouth and especially my throat at least as sexually satisfying as my ass.”

A slight frown appeared on Jason’s face as he considered the buzzsaw, “Still, I don’t see where the suspense builds. Once I switch on that buzzsaw, won’t it all be over rather quickly?”

Understanding Jason’s confusion, I replied, “To provide time for the suspense to build, I had several diabolically clever changes added after the manufacturer delivered the saw. After replacing the rail’s log supports with wrist and ankle restraints, I also had the control system rebuilt.”

“When it arrived, the control console only had those two large levers. The one on the right, to switch the saw on and off. The other activates the overhead trolly motor to advance the blade along its guide rail. The two smaller handles were added at the console’s middle to open and close the wrist and ankle restraints. But, the two large dials add the buzzsaw’s suspense factor. Those dials, hidden from the victim’s sight by the angled control console, allow the user to select up to a thirty-minute fixed or random delay for the buzzsaw’s activation and that of its trolly motor.”

“Also, to heighten the ominous sense of foreboding doom, after pulling the two large power handles activating the delay timers, the wrist and ankle restraints lock, removing any lingering hope of escape, and remain locked until the buzzsaw travels to the far end of its guide rail.”

Smiling evilly, I casually added, “I’ve played around with the timer settings and find that a fifteen-minute fixed delay before the saw switches on and a random delay before the trolly motor activates to be quite suspenseful. However, feel free to make any timer adjustments you desire. After all, it’s not like I’ll be in any position to stop you.”

“Oh, and for the same reasons that my sister did, I intentionally picked the old Chadwick Funeral, leasing it until the end of the month and paying to have the lights and the gas turned on. So, after I’m dead, you already know where the crematorium is.”

Positioning Cynthia’s wrists and ankles within the guide rail’s restraints, Jason walked over to the saw’s control console and closed the restraints as he pondered making any delay timer changes. He decided to leave the trolly activation delay at random. However, he changed the saw activation to its maximum thirty-minute delay. Then, pulling both of the activation handles, started the timers.

Jason was also curious to discover if Veronica had mentioned the impressively intimidating length and girth of his erect cock in her diary. He was already looking forward to the desperation in Cynthia’s eyes when he buried all sixteen inches of his cock, balls deep, within the warm, moist, straining depths of her throat with his first powerful thrust into her mouth. He knew he’d also have to exercise caution. It wouldn’t do for Cynthia to lose consciousness or, worse yet, die of suffocation before experiencing the obscenely agonizing sensation as that buzzsaw’s deadly razor-sharp blade brutally rips its way through her guts...