I remember asking at the Resortís concierge desk if they had something different for the tonight, something extraordinarily torturous. I recall the man behind the desk smiling darkly as he promised he had just what I desired.

That evening, shortly after sunset, with my wrists already tightly manacled behind my back, they led me into one of the north towers torture chambers, where an ominous noose dangled above a brutal looking impalement post. Removing my high heels, they helped me up onto a raised bench, tightening the noose around my throat before lifting me up and anally impaling me upon that torturous postís cold steel shaft, its smoothly rounded tip slipping painfully deep into my rectum before my stocking clad toes finally managed to reach the bench.

Struggling to stay up on my toes, with that the impossibly cold steel shaft twisting painfully within the depths of my brutally violated rectum, I cried out in terror as the executioner reached down and casually pulled the wooden bench out from beneath my straining toes.

Robbed of the benchís support, with the tip of the impalement post already about six inches inside my rectum, I could instantly feel that cold steel shaft slipping deeper into my guts. I desperately fought to squeeze the invading shaft between my stocking clad legs but the impalement postís smoothly polished surface defeat all my efforts to slow my agonizing descent. The sickening sensation of that cold steel shaft slipping steadily upward into my guts only ending as that noose finally drew taut around my slender throat.

The pain was exquisite, the shaft of that impalement post twisting brutally inside me as I struggled against the inevitable, that deadly noose gradually tightening around my throat. Glancing down I noticed that my toes were within inches of the torture chamberís floor, the sudden horrifying realization that I had over two feet of unyielding steel impalement post buried agonizingly deep within my guts.

As the minutes passed, I could feel that noose beginning to crush my throat, making it steadily harder to breathe. Desperately gripping the smooth steel shaft between the insteps of my feet I discovered I could push up just enough to gain a few precious breaths before slipping back down.

In the end, Pamelaís agonizing death was all sheíd hoped for, a slow and extraordinarily torturous demise, one lasting just over three hours and watched by over a thousand viewers on one of the Resortís pay-per-view channels...