Samuel, a handsome, distinguished gentleman she’d met earlier at the beach, asked Helen to dinner and, over after-dinner drinks, invited her to accompany him to one of the North Tower’s infamous medieval-themed torture chambers for the evening.

Reaching the torture chamber, Helen, noticing the familiar look of eager, sadistic anticipation in Samuel’s cold grey eyes, felt her heartbeat quicken as she slipped off her dress to reveal her red corset with matching thong panties.

Samuel smiled evilly, locking a heavy leather collar securely around Helen’s neck, “Shall we begin?”

I paused to brush my ruby-red lips across his cheek and whispered, “Sir. Tonight, in this place, I’m yours to do with as you wish, no limits.”

A strict, tight-fitting leather single glove came next, followed by an oversized ballgag and a snug leather hood that blinded me and made breathing difficult. The final bondage item was a tight-fitting leather leg binder that squeezed my legs together from my toes to my thighs.

Then, picking me up in his arms, he lifted my legs upward, clipping the ring attached to the bottom of the leg binder to the chamber’s torture frame, and carefully lowered my body until I hung inverted. I heard the faint sound of a chain rattling as he attached it to the ring on the top of my hood, securing my head to the torture chamber’s floor.

Utterly helpless, I could already feel the blood rushing to my head as Samuel casually fondled my breasts as he mentioned, “Well, Helen, this should hold you for the evening. Plenty of time for you to imagine all the horrifying things I might do to you when I return at midnight.”

The hood muffled my hearing, but I felt my heart skip a beat when he said, “When I return at midnight.” Midnight! That was hours from now! I wanted to scream, but with that ballgag filling my hood-covered face, I only made a faint “Uhhh” as he left the torture chamber.

Hanging there, I quickly discovered that the chain linking my head to the floor was tight enough to prevent movement beyond the slightest squirming. Resigned to helplessly enduring the coming hours, I knew this would be a very long evening...

Samuel returned shortly after midnight to find Helen still hanging where he’d left her at eight o’clock that evening. He smiled at the labored sound of her breathing, her breath hissing through the hood’s two restrictive nasal leather grommets.

Smiling, he slipped his fingers between the helpless woman’s thighs, “Helen. I’m happy to see you managed to survive until now. After all, I’d have hated for you to miss tonight’s grand finale.”

Pressing his fingers firmly down against the arousal-soaked leather crotch of Helen’s thong, Samuel carefully pushed the material between the heated folds of her sex, feeling her squirming as his fingertips slowly dimpled the wet leather as it slipped within the entrance of her vagina.

“I intended to run you through with this sword, but on the way over, I decided to do something obscenely and far more brutally savage.”

Reversing his grip on the sword’s hilt, he raised the blade, angling it downward, carefully positioning it within the arousal-soaked, dimpled material of Helen’s thong, its sharp tip already deep within the entrance of her vagina. Then, with a slight but firm downward pressure, Samuel slipped the sword’s deadly razor-sharp blade deep into her guts.

Ignoring Helen’s desperate but faint gag-muted screams of agony, Samuel pushed the sword’s blade steadily deeper into her convulsing body until the blade’s tip seemed deep enough to have reached her diaphragm.

Knowing that gravity would do the rest, Samual released his grip on the sword’s hilt. Smiling sadistically, “Try not to struggle, Helen. You’ll live longer, but in the end, know that gravity always wins.”

Then, enjoying the muted sounds of Helen’s desperate, high-pitched screams, Samuel walked over and poured himself a glass of wine. Pausing to take a sip, he noticed the sword’s deadly blade had already slipped several inches deeper into her agony-tormented body.

Ultimately, it took almost another three torturously delightful hours before Helen’s body convulsed one final time as she died. Out of curiosity, Samuel paused to examine her lifeless body. Judging by the sword's angle, the blade had pierced Helen’s left lung and possibly her heart before its tip lodged against her left shoulder blade. There was also surprisingly little blood for a woman brutally impaled on that razor-sharp sword, just a tiny puddle caused by the slow dripping from her hood’s two nasal grommets.

Grasping the sword’s hilt, he pulled the blade out of Helen’s dangling corpse. Then, using the discarded dress she’d left on the torture chamber’s floor, he wiped her blood off its blade before returning it to its sheath.

Leaving Helen’s lifeless dangling body for the Resort’s regeneration technicians to retrieve, Samuel wondered if Helen would like to join him for another brutally torturous North Tower evening after she recovered from regen...