“While, I do have a well-known affinity for cold sharp steel, I’ve always found the rack to be one of the most tortuously exquisite pleasures to be found within the perilous
depths of the Resort’s torture chambers. With the rack, a skilled torturer can inflict days of unrelenting agony upon his utterly helpless victim.”
“Years ago, while already stretched painfully taut upon this very rack for the first time, I foolishly asked the torturer how long would it take to torture a woman to death using only the rack? You know, without resorting to all those whips, hot irons and other cruel medieval instruments of torture usually employed to quicken the victim’s demise. Surprised, I could see the look of evil amusement in the torturer’s hooded eyes as he briefly paused before setting aside the heavy whip he’d just picked up and carefully tightened the rack a few more notches. I could feel the pain slowly spreading downward along my spine as each additional click of the racks gears stretched my already painfully taut body another eighth of an inch tighter.”
An expert in inflicting pain, the torturer continued to tighten the rack until he was certain that Destini was on the verge of screaming before he stopped and without saying a word left the torture chamber closing the heavy sound-proof behind him.
“The pain was almost unbearable. It felt like someone inserted white-hot needles into my wrist, elbow and shoulder joints as the mounting tension slowly lifted my back off the rack’s wooden platform. I closed my eyes as a faint whimper of masochistic pleasure escaped my lips as I desperately struggled to catch my breath. Lost in the dark eroticism of the moment, it wasn’t until I heard the soft thump of chamber’s door closing that I realized I was alone.”
“That first night seemed to last an eternity. As the hours passed the fire heating the irons in the brazier gradually burned down, the warmth it provided dissipating into the cool night air long hours before the faint light of sunrise began to appear through the chambers narrow window. I’d never felt this exhausted in my entire life, the rack’s unrelenting tension causing my straining body to ache in ways I’d never imagined possible.”
Early that morning, the torturer returned. Pausing to carefully observe Destini’s labored breathing, he lifted her head and allowed her to drink a single cup of water, before slowly tightening the rack another half inch.
“I screamed in agony as the rack tightened, each click of the rack’s gears sending fresh explosions of overwhelming pain coursing through my brutally abused body. That steady pain that spread down my back earlier gradually reaching to my toes as the rack tightened. It actually felt as if huge white-hot skewers had suddenly replaced all those needles stabbing painfully into my wrist, elbow and shoulder joints. I was sure my shoulders would dislocate with the next click of the ratchet when the torturer finally relented before once again leaving to suffer alone.”
“As the day progressed, the warmth of the tropical day gradually caused the air within torture chamber to become stifling. The sheen of perspiration coating my taut body quickly becoming steady trickles of sweat dropping to the rack beneath me as the temperature in the chamber steadily rose.”
It was early evening when the torturer returned. Pausing to observe Destini’s breathing, he once again lifted her head and allowed her drink several cups of water, before leaving the chamber, this time without bothering to tighten the rack.
“It was late that night when the torturer returned once again, the cold night air sending unbearable chills coursing through my painfully tormented body, as I helplessly watched him walked toward the head of the rack. I’d been wrong earlier, when I thought, that my shoulders would dislocate with the next click of the rack’s gears. It took two clicks. Ignoring my desperate, high-pitched screams, the torturer simply left the chamber closing the heavy sound-proof door as he departed.”
“Day after day the cycle of bone-chilling nights and sweltering hot days continued, the torturer visiting three or four times a day, often giving me some water and usually tightening the rack. As time passed the unrelenting tension of the rack started destroying my body. Gradually, all the remaining joints of my arms and legs were dislocated and eventually separated. After that, the cartilage, tendons and ligaments of my body started to fail with sickening snapping sounds under the rack’s steadily mounting strain. All the while, the unrelenting tension on my muscles slowly caused them to lose their ability to contract, and as it turns out, that was the real reason the torturer always paused to observe my breathing.”
“Finally, sometime late in the night on my tenth agonizing day of suffering upon the rack, I lost consciousness and died of suffocation, the muscles of my diaphragm having reached the point where I could no longer inhale enough air to survive.”
“Anyway, it’s been over thirty years since that brutally torturous experience, one that still occasionally haunts my darkest nightmares. That was until earlier this evening when I happened to run into the same torturer who’d so divinely tortured me to death on this very rack, all those years ago. He mentioned that if I was interested, this time he’d make me last twice as long before I died. An offer like that is simply too enticing to pass up...”