With each click of the garrote’s ratchet, the rope around my neck grew steadily tighter as it began to compress my trachea, making it gradually harder to breathe. Fighting desperately
for every shallow breath I managed to take. My lungs felt like they were on fire even as my vision began to fade toward black. I knew that I was only one or two clicks of the garrote’s
ratchet away from death when my cruelly sadistic executioner suddenly stopped tightening the garrote. Struggling to breathe, I helplessly watched as he came around to stand alongside me,
a terrifyingly sharp-looking knife in his hand.
Pausing to inspect the knife’s blade, my executioner smiled darkly, “I can see the fear in your eyes, Maritta, so beautiful and yet so helpless. The garrote is a cruel and unpleasant way to die. Yet, it’s such an inappropriate death for a beautiful woman like yourself, one who deserves to endure a far more obscenely gruesome demise for her executioner’s amusement.”
Struggling to take my next shallow breath, I looked into his eyes, the terrifying look of eager anticipation on his face, the moment before he plunged that sharp blade deep into my upper abdomen. That familiar explosion of pain as that blade slipped effortlessly deep into my guts. No stranger to the sicking sensation of cold, sharp steel deep within my belly, since joining the Resort’s vacation club over a year and a half ago, I could see in his eyes that tonight was going to be different and not in a good way.
That first night here at the Resort, someone who thought he was the reincarnation of Jack the Ripper disemboweled me. That night, he cut me open and, easing me down onto my knees, forced me to endure almost an hour, painfully watching my intestines slithering out my belly and pooling between my thighs before cutting my throat. Somehow, looking into my executioner’s eyes, I knew that tonight would be far more painfully brutal.
Watching the tears welling up in Maritta’s lovely eyes as he slowly twisted that razor-sharp blade deep within her guts. He waited for that first tear to trickle down her cheek before pulling that blade brutally downward. The razor-sharp blade cruelly cutting through her insides as it opened her belly from just below her ribcage down to her crotch.
The explosion of agony went far beyond anything I’d expected. The sensation of my blood and mutilated guts spilling out onto the torture chamber’s floor was agonizing and utterly revolting. There was so much blood, I should already be unconscious, but I wasn’t. I realized it was the garrote. Not only was it making it harder to breathe by compressing my trachea, but its taut rope was also tightly squeezing my neck, restricting the blood flow to my brain, or in this case, with my belly opened, slowing the blood loss from my brain.
Pausing to wipe the blood from his knife, Maritta’s executioner watched with delightful amusement as her head finally slumped forward. Her lovely eyes were already staring lifelessly into the abyss as she finished bleeding out...