With one of her wrists already locked within a snug-fitting steel manacle, Monica watched in delightfully terrifying anticipation as her killer slipped on a heavy rubber apron and over boots to protect his expensive Armani suit from the inevitable blood stains.

Securing my remaining wrist in the restraints, he picked up that razor-sharp knife, “Usually, while here at the Resort, I use Resort companions to sate all my darkly evil desires. However, after seeing you die so delightfully in the recent ‘Hooks of Anguish’ episode of the ‘Old Ways,’ I went to the Resort’s concierge desk and made a special request. I understand this is your first night back at the Resort after several months in the real world, so I wanted this evening to be truly memorable for both of us.”

I felt my heartbeat quicken as he casually brought the deadly blade up and slid it slowly along the side of my face, “Back before I joined the Resort’s vacation club, I used this knife to murder over a dozen prostitutes in London. I’d lure them into dark alleyways, push them up against the wall, cover their mouths with my hand, and brutally stab them to death.”

The knife slipped off my face, its terrifyingly sharp blade coming to rest within the cleavage of my breasts as he continued, “By the way, I saw the look in your lovely eyes when I sprayed that numbing solution down your throat, but you needn’t have worried. I would never throat fuck a woman on the first date. Instead, I administered the spray because of one of its unintended side effects, it numbs the vocal cords, rendering you mute and unable to speak. Of course, it doesn’t prevent you from making some delightfully gruesome sounds each time I stab you, which is the only reason you’re not gagged.”

Starring into his eyes, I didn’t realize he’d repositioned his knife. The pressure of Its tip pressing against the side of my satin corset was the only warning before a sharp cry of agony escaped my lips as that knife’s razor-sharp blade slipped hilt deep into my corset-compressed guts.

Holding the knife’s blade deep within Monica’s guts, her killer casually commented, “This is the first time I’ve done a woman wearing a corset. I’ve found that it usually takes as many as twenty stab wounds before a woman dies. I wonder if your corset makes a difference, I’m curious to see how many times I’ll need to stab you.”

The nauseatingly familiar sensation of cold hard steel painfully deep within my belly exploded into waves of mind-searing agony as he slowly started twisting that blade inside me. I could see the sadistic enjoyment in his cold eyes as cries of agony escaped my lips with each slow twist of that torturous blade. I suffered through long minutes of unspeakable torment until he finally pulled that knife out of my belly, only to stab it back into me seconds later.

As he continued to stab me brutally, I noticed the diabolic practiced ease of how he went about it. The slight upward angle as his knife slipped into my guts and the subtle upward pressure of the blade as he twisted it inside me made it impossible to lift myself off it. For one brief moment, I tried to imagine how many women had died on his knife’s razor-sharp blade before he perfected his brutally cruel style, but I lost my train of thought an instant later as he plunged that blade deep into my guts once again.

Ironically, while the tightness of the corset magnified the damage, each knife thrust caused, in some ways, its tight blood-soaked satin construction caused it to act like a bandage, significantly slowing her blood loss. In the end, Monica survived her unspeakably torturous ordeal for almost an hour, suffering 37 stab wounds to her abdomen before she died.

As she awoke from regeneration the following afternoon, Monica’s first thought was, “That sick, perverted bastard ruined my favorite corset.” Then, with a faint smile of darkly ominous amusement appearing on her face, “I’ll need to replace it before asking him to do me again.”