Sometimes it doesn’t seem possible, but I’ve been a Resort companion for over thirty-nine years. In that time, while I’ve experienced almost every masochistically torturous
death imaginable, I’ll always fondly remember my first night spent at the Resort’s north tower as something obscenely special.
It was July 2, 1987, the night of the Resort’s north tower grand opening. As a new and more prominent vacation club member requested, I wore lingerie identical to what I’m
wearing tonight, nothing but a black satin G-string with matching high heels. That fateful night, we met at one of the north tower’s new torture chambers, where he secured my
wrists to an overhead spreader bar and lifted me upward using a wall-mounted winch until the toes of my high heels barely brushed the chamber’s polished stone floor.
It had taken three years for the Resort’s engineers to disassemble this authentic castle on Germany’s Baltic coast and reassemble it on the hilltop overlooking the Resort’s
vacation club villas. Renovated during its reconstruction, the now infamous north tower and the underground facilities beneath are home to over two hundred diabolically
well-equipped dungeon torture chambers.
Hanging there by my wrists, I fully expected the worst. This medieval-themed torture chamber held the most terrifying instruments of torture imaginable. And, yet, there was
something unexpected in my captor’s eyes, something I hadn’t seen in a long time, lust.
Instead of a whip or hot irons, his hands tenderly explored every inch of my helplessly dangling body. Our lips met, his tongue slipping deep into my warm moist mouth. With one
hand pressing firmly against the small of my back, his other hand raised my left thigh against the side of his waist, the bulge of his massive erection grinding against the
aroused wetness of my crotch. As my body responded to his demanding attention, he broke our sensuous kiss, his lips working their way down the side of my throat as he pressed
that ballgag deep into my mouth and buckled it tight.
Suddenly, he ripped my G-string off and, lifting my thighs around his waist, took me deep and hard. As he savagely impaled me with his cock, I could see the surprise in his eyes
as I desperately squeezed his waist between my thighs and climaxed with my first powerful orgasm of the evening.
What followed were four long hours of unrelenting orgasms, the orgasms growing steadily closer together until I started reaching my next orgasm before I could catch my breath from
the previous climax. I can’t tell you how many orgasms I had that night, only that I finally stopped counting after twenty.
Until that night, I’d never met a man with such sexual stamina. I felt him climax inside me at least a dozen times before he finally lost his erection. I didn’t know he was using a
recently developed male enhancement drug developed here at the Resort that would become known among vacation club members as Viagra on steroids.
A faint whimper of carnal exhaustion escaped my ballgag-stuffed mouth as I felt his softening cock slipping out of me as I rested my head against his shoulder, struggling to catch
my breath. Then, in that timeless moment, everything changed. His hand moved upward to grasp a handful of my hair and roughly pulled my head back.
I could see the familiar look of evil anticipation in his cold eyes, “Tonight, I’m going to fulfill all your darkest masochistic desires. So now that we’ve had the pleasure, it’s time
for the pain. I hope you will find it as overwhelming as the pleasure.”
That night I helplessly endured unspeakably excruciating torment, long horrifying hours of slow, unrelenting torture and mutilation simply for his sadistic amusement. In the end, he
gutted me, then strangled me to death using my own intestines. I never imagined suffering a night of such savage brutality. Of course, in the years since, I’ve endured nights of debauchery
and torture that made that first night at the Resort’s north tower seem almost tame. So, whatever torturous delights he has planned for this evening should be interesting. After all, he’s
had another thirty-six years to refine his diabolically torturous technique...