Even wearing his face concealing hood, Destini could easily detect at the look of surprise in the executioner’s eyes, “Yes, I know it’s an unusual choice, but I’ve always had a profoundly deep fascination with swords.”

“This one is a personal favorite from my collection, a modern recreation of an eleventh-century Norman sword, popular at the time of the invasion of England. Intended primarily as stabbing and thrusting weapon, its blade is twenty eight inches of razor-sharp death.”

Handing the stunned looking executioner the sword, Destini continued, “I assume the people at the Resort’s concierge desk briefed you on all the intimate details of my desired fantasy?”

Pausing, his inspection of the sword’s gleaming razor-sharp blade, the executioner could see the enticing look of eager anticipation on Destini’s lovely face as he replied, “Wee Mademoiselle, but of course.”

Staring into the executioner’s hooded eyes Destini could feel her heart racing as she slowly brought her arms up and interlaced her fingers behind her head.

The executioner stared into Destini’s eyes as his left arm slipped around her back to grasp her interlaced fingers. They were so close, the scent of her perfume, a seductive Shalini Musk, filled his sinuses. Overcome, for the just the briefest of moments his resolve faltered, and he actually considered kissing her. Instead, he felt her body suddenly stiffen against him as he brutally ran her through with her own sword.

An expert in human anatomy, the executioner cruelly maximized Destini’s suffering, the sword’s razor-sharp blade effortlessly piercing her stomach and left kidney before coming out just below the back of her ribcage. The look of overwhelming agony in Destini’s tear filled eyes, one he’d always cherish, as he brutally twisted the blade deep within her guts as she died.

I could feel myself growing colder as I quickly started going into shock, the executioner easing my down onto my knees, releasing my hands before pulling that deadly sword out of my guts as I slowly crumpled down onto that cold stone floor. The last thing I can remember, before the darkness claimed me, the hot coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

Destini spent the next few hours floating within one of the Resort’s regeneration tanks, the moderate damage caused by a single sword thrust through her guts, while fatal, easily repaired.

Later that evening, as Destini relaxed, with a glass of her favorite wine, on her villa’s patio, she could still feel her heartbeat quicken as she thought about that almost indescribable sensation of that cold steel blade effortlessly sliding through the warmth of her guts. Since joining the Resort’s Vacation Club, she’d gleefully reserved the services of a sword skilled executioner for the first and last evenings of every visit. A darkly masochistic indulgence she’s never regretted...