Although it’s been seven months since I became a Resort indentured companion, tonight is the first evening, I’m going to meet the Resort’s director. I’m not sure if I should feel honored or utterly terrified.

The director ordered me to undress, then locked the pole mounted restraints around my wrists and ankles. Walking over to the control pedestal, he pressed a switch. Suddenly, the restraints on my wrists moved upward to the tops of the poles lifting me off my feet. Simultaneously, the ankle restraints moved downward stretching my body uncomfortably taut.

Turning to Ann, the director said, “When the impalement post’s pointed tip reaches your crotch, it will enter through your vagina, rupturing your cervix and uterus, before continuing up through your abdomen, until it reaches your diaphragm. Punching through your diaphragm, it will continue upward through your chest, passing between your lungs and behind your heart until it reaches your trachea. Rupturing the cartilage of your trachea, the post’s tip enters and slides smoothly up through your throat, forcing your head back, as the post’s tip slides across your tongue and comes out of your mouth.”

Pausing to activate the Impaler, I heard a faint hydraulic hiss beneath me, as he smiled, “The entire process, from activating the impalement post until you’re fully impaled should take only a few painfully unpleasant minutes.”

In less than a minute the post’s sharp looking tip reached the entrance to my vagina, the chilling sensation of cold hard steel slipping steadily upward into my sex as I starred in horror at the look of amusement on the director’s face.

A sharp blood-curling scream of pure agony escaped my lips. Never having experienced impalement before, nothing could have prepared me for the breath-taking explosion of pain that I experienced as that brutal impalement post ripped through my cervix and uterus.

I could feel the sickening sensation of its cold steel presence moving smoothly upward through my guts.

As the invading shaft continued upward through my abdomen, I could feel it pushing past my internal organs as that cold steel shaft gradually rearranged my insides for its passage. Suddenly, I felt another sharp pain as the post’s tip ripped through my diaphragm and started upward into my chest.

A few moments later, I felt something tearing deep within my chest and it started getting harder to breathe.

I could feel the nauseating sensation of the impalement post sliding upward through my throat, as the steadily advancing shaft forced my head back as it’s tip obscenely exited my mouth.

I could feel the shaft sliding upward through me as its tip came into view before it stopped, leaving me with about a foot of it’s shaft protruding obscenely from my mouth. Struggling to breathe, I could hear the laughter in the director’s voice, “Ann, I know this is your first time being impaled but did you know that impalement is a fairly popular form of deadly torture here at the Resort? Sadly, except for the Dolcett produced Jessica-3000 and Jessica-5000 live spitting machines, the ones used in the Resort’s Roasting Grotto restaurant. It's exceeding rare for a woman to survive full impalement in our torture chambers, and the few that somehow manage to live through it usually die soon afterward.”

“So, a while back, I contacted someone known as the Toymaker, asking him if it would be possible to produce a new line of full impalement systems, ones designed to improve the survival rate of their victims. This is the first prototype he’s delivered for testing and so far, the results are truly amazing. You are the tenth companion whom I’ve impaled with this prototype and all ten of you survived it. Even more impressive, all nine of the previous victims survived for more than twenty-four hours before they finally died.”

I could hear the sadistic cruelty in his voice, “It’ll be interesting to see how long it takes for you to die.”

I’m unsure about how I managed to survive for as long I did. The tautness of my tightly stretched body gradually morphed into unrelenting pain as the muscles of my body grew exhausted. The slightest movement of my body on that impalement post, sending fresh waves of pure agony coursing through me with every shallow breath I managed to take, until I finally died.

One of the unforeseen aspects of this newly improved line of full impalement systems was a noticeable reduction in regeneration time for its victims. Their impalement causing, only a small amount of physical injury, they all eventually died of suffocation, caused by their own saliva trickling down into their lungs.

As it turns out, dying on that diabolic impalement post, I did set a new survival record for the tests. The regeneration technician mentioned that I’d lasted thirty-one hours and eighteen minutes before I died, beating the previous record by an hour and forty-seven minutes of unspeakably agonizing torment.

So, just nine years, five months and twenty-four days left in my indentured companion’s contract. I never thought I could imagine thinking anything this profoundly disturbing, only then will I have the opportunity to become a regular Resort companion...