Iíd heard all the rumors concerning the Crimson Executioner. Heís been a member of the Resortís Vacation Club for over thirty years and, about eighteen months ago, joined the Resortís dungeon staff. They say that heís an evil, sadistic fiend, well known for his barbaric cruelty. Any woman lucky enough to fall into his clutches is fated to suffer a gruesome slow, agonizing death with no hope of mercy.

That night I was delivered to the Crimson Executionerís private torture chamber high the Resortís North Tower, my wrists and elbows already tightly tied behind my back. He was waiting just inside the door, dressing his distinctive red executionerís uniform. Bolting the door, he didnít say a word as he grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me toward the horrifying Iron Maiden.

I tried to struggle, but he easily overpowered me, forcing me back into the Iron Maidenís claustrophobic confines and strapping me tightly into place.

ďAnn, you have been judged guilty of sinful, promiscuous behavior. The Crimson Executioner demands that you atone for your wanton sins with blood and unimaginable agony. In this Iron Maiden, you will pay the ultimate price for your promiscuous behavior. Death within the Maiden is never an easy or quick demise. You will spend the coming days trapped in unrelenting agony, feeling your life slipping away as you slowly bleed to death for my amusement.Ē

Iíve been a Resort Companion for over a year, and I thought that I already experienced about every gruesome, agonizingly torturous death imaginable. Letís say that, once he closed the Iron Maidenís horrifying door, my assumption turned out to be incredibly incorrect.

I mean, Iíve been impaled on spikes before, several usually hitting something vital, so you typically last less than an hour. The worst Iíve experienced, being dropped into a pit a few months ago, they mostly missed anything vital, two piercing my left lung with another through my right lung. I lasted for almost four hours, painfully impaled on those spikes, coughing up blood until I finally finished bleeding out.

The sharp spikes lining the Iron Maidenís door, all diabolically positioned to miss anything vital while at the same time maximizing my unrelenting, agonizing torment. The spikeís smooth conical shape fiendishly designed to plug my wounds, keeping my blood loss to a minimum to prolong my suffering.

With each shallow breath I managed to take, the sharp tips of the spikes slowly twisted painfully within my mutilated flesh, the slightest movement of my body sending fresh waves of unbearable agony coursing through me. The pain was unescapable and utterly overwhelming my senses until all that remained was the agonizing pain.


I awoke in recovery after finishing regeneration, the entire horrifyingly unspeakable experience still fresh in my mind. Of course, it didnít help that the Crimson Executioner had left a note.

Ann, you delightfully managed to survive within the Iron Maiden for three days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes, not a record but a close runner-up. Iíve truly enjoyed our time together, and Iím already looking forward to the next opportunity to make you scream. Ė The Crimson Executioner

Reading his note, I felt a delightfully terrifying sense of almost eager masochistic anticipation as I tried to imagine what gruesomely torturous horrors that our next session together might entail. Honestly, I could hardly wait...