Well, it’s been over a year since my last visit to the Resort, but I called ahead and made dinner and dungeon reservations with Nikki, one of the guest reservation specialists with the Resort’s concierge desk, a lovely woman who I became intimately acquainted with during my last stay to the Resort.

Last visit Nikki arranged for me to experience the Resort’s newest diabolically masochistic attraction the vertical buzz saw. The next day, after I’d finished regeneration to repair the saw’s fatally gruesome damage, I’d invited Nikki out for drinks and dinner followed by a delightful evening in one of the Resort’s well-equipped torture chambers. Sadly, Nikki had to cancel at the last moment, something about having to cover the shift of one of her fellow reservation specialists, apparently the results of her dungeon hookup were taking a bit longer in regen then she’d expected. Note to self, here at the Resort, if someone offers to draw and quarter you, don’t make any plans for the following evening.

It was a delight to see Nikki again. We caught up over dinner before taking a limo to the Resort’s infamous North Tower, an authentic medieval castle that once stood on Germany’s Baltic coast. Entering one of the Tower’s well-equipped torture chambers, I felt a delightfully chilling sensation of masochistic anticipation as I took in all the chamber’s exquisite implements of agonizing torment.

Taking my hand, Nikki led me deep into the torture chamber until we stood before its ominous looking Iron Maiden, “Last year, after you suggested visiting the Resort's North Tower, I took a closer look at your Vacation Club history and noticed that over the years you’ve been working your way through the Resort’s masochistic top one hundred ways to die, that is except for the final one, ‘Death in the Iron Maiden’.”

Glancing at the horrific looking Iron Maiden I tried to smile, “I know the Maiden is considered to be the most agonizingly brutal way to die here at the Resort. The thought of enduring two or three days, trapped in unrelenting agonizing torment as I slowly bleed to death, always sends shivers of pure terror racing long my spine. It’s just that I haven’t quite worked up the courage to request it.”

Nikki smiled darkly, “It looks like tonight is going to be your lucky night Monica. However, first finish up your wine, and then I’ll put you in the Iron Maiden. Tonight, you’re not dying for your masochistic amusement. Tonight, you’re dying for mine.”

Less than thirty minutes later, my glass of wine emptied, I found herself standing within the Iron Maiden, my wrists bound behind my back while tightly clinched leather straps secured me helplessly within the Maiden’s claustrophobic metal sarcophagus.

Pausing to take a sip from her freshly refilled wine glass, Nikki smiled at the obvious look of fear on Monica’s face as she placed her hand upon the Iron Maiden’s open, spike-lined door, “Well, it seems the time for pleasantries is past, all the remains are the delightful sound of your screams.”

Nikki could see Monica’s terrified eyes staring at the approaching spikes as Nikki slowly closed the Iron Maiden’s door, “By the way, thanks to the ability of the regeneration process to keep giving us perfect health, no woman has lasted less than 48 hours within the Maiden with most lasting until around midday of their third day and a few truly unlucky ones lasting into the early hours of their fourth day before expiring.”

The sudden look of angry defiance in Monica’s eyes caused Nikki to pause, “After I get out of regen, I promise Nikki, that I’ll repay this ‘kindness’ in turn, you have my word on that.”

Smiling darkly, Nikki pushed the Maiden’s heavy spike-lined door closed as Monica’s high-pitched screams of agony echoed through the torture chamber. The Maiden’s door, finally locking closed with a solid sounding metallic click of inevitability.

Nikki spent the rest of the evening delightfully listening to Monica’s desperate screams of agony. From personal experience, Nikki knew that death in the Iron Maiden is always a gruesome and messy affair.

Closing the Maiden’s door impaled forty one carefully positioned iron spikes deep into Monica’s torso and legs. All those spikes, including the two eye spikes, fiendishly placed to inflict the maximum amount to pain imaginable without individually causing fatal injury. Diabolically, while agonizingly sharp, the spike’s smooth conical shape actually works to seal Monica’s wounds, quickly slowing bleeding to trickle. A trickle, that in most cases, allows her blood to clot around the spikes, eventually close the wounds, assuming of course, that Monica remains as still as possible. Ironically, the Iron Maiden’s claustrophobic sarcophagus with it’s carefully position straps, are ingeniously designed to ensure that she does just that.

The Iron Maiden’s tight straps, while also heightening her sensation of terror and helplessness, hold Monica’s body firmly backward, from her ankles to her throat, against the form-fitting rear half of the Maiden’s interior. The interior of Maiden’s horrifying spike-lined door, pressing against the front of the Monica’s body from her ankles to her breasts, as the door inevitably locks closed. In the final moments as the doors close, the diabolic eye spikes, just long enough to reach the back of her eye sockets after they pierce Monica’s eyes, pin her head cruelly backward against the rear of Maiden.

Finishing the last of the wine, accompanied with the sound of Monica’s screams, Nikki smiled and walked out of the torture chamber.

Helplessly trapped within the Iron Maiden’s deadly embrace, I managed to survive for sixty four hours, or just over two and half days, before finally succumbing to the Iron Maiden’s fiendishly torturous attentions, sixty four horrifying hours of inescapable unrelenting agony with no hope of respite.

Diabolically, in the end, it was my desperate struggle to survive that actually caused my eventual demise. Each shallow, torturously painful, breath causing the spikes embedded deep within my breasts, their sharp tips grating between my ribs, as they twisted brutally within my flesh. And, with each agonizing movement of my chest, the small but steady trickles of blood that ran down the interior of the Maiden, gradually filling the basin carved into the Maiden’s stone pedestal with my blood as I slowly, painfully, bled to death.

Ironically, I spent almost as long undergoing regeneration as I’d spent within the Iron Maiden’s horrifying embrace, with most of the regeneration cycle spent restoring my eyes.

That evening, I awoke, rested and refreshed, in the bedroom of my Resort villa, and already plotting my revenge.

Nikki was naked and utterly helpless, secured within unyielding steel restraints, her neck encased with a strict posture collar, her mouth filled with an oversized penis gag and worst of all that collar made it impossible to turn her head to see what Monica was doing behind her.

Finally finished coating that oversized dildo with lubricant, I picked up the cane and smiled darkly as I gazed down at Nikki helplessly restrained before me, “So Nikki, I thought we might start the evening by caning your cute shapely ass, perhaps a stroke or two, hundred, just to warm you up for the night’s main event where I fuck your tight little ass with a strap-on dildo. I assure you that you’re going to find this whole experience unforgettable because I picked this dildo out especially for you, thirty two inches of rock hard rubber thicker around than my forearm, a dildo that’s truly to die for, I promise you, quite literally...”