After her profoundly disturbing discussion with Venessa last September, Lisa decided to find out if Venessa was right when she said Lisa shared the same masochistic desires.

That discussion had been almost nine months ago. And while I tried to dismiss Venessaís words, working as a Resort regeneration specialist, I started to question if I did share the same masochistic desires as many of the companions and female vacation club members I brought back to life. Well, there was only one way to find out.

When the Resort hired me, certain perks came with the job. Not only did I accrue vacation days but also nights at the Resort itself. All it took was a call to the Resortís concierge desk to discuss my desires, and I had a session scheduled in the Resortís north tower with one of our professional torturers for Friday evening. Later that afternoon, I stopped at one of the Resortís fetish boutiques and picked the perfect outfit for my first night at the north tower.

That Friday night, everything came together. I was waiting in one of the north towerís torture chambers, dressed in my revealing outfit, my wrists chained to the chamberís ceiling, with a ballgag filling my mouth, when the entrance swung open, and he entered. He was dressed all in black leather, wearing his face-concealing torturerís leather hood, and carrying a large razor-sharp medieval sword.

As he approached, I could feel my sense of danger delightfully growing with every passing second. He didnít say a word. He just stopped next to me and roughly groped my breasts before sliding his fingers down into the aroused wetness of my leather-sheathed crotch. He knew exactly where to touch me, bringing me to orgasm once, twice, and a third climax before finally relenting. His fingers glistened with my arousal as they slipped from my crotch as I struggled to breathe.

As he stepped back, I knew what would happen next. I knew there would be no mercy because Iíd asked for none. Instead, he raised that sword, and with a single thrust, he ran me through. That painful, sickening sensation of cold steel sliding effortlessly through my guts as he pushed that deadly blade through my body until the swordís hilt pressed firmly against my leather-sheathed belly. The slightest movement of my body sent waves of agony coursing through me each time I felt that blade shifting within my guts. I never imagined enduring something this unbelievably painful, but I knew the worst was yet to come.

I could see that look in his eyes, one that Iíd come to recognize as one of eager sadistic anticipation. He was a true artist of pain, as cruel as sadistic. He intently watched my eyes, patiently waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he savagely started twisting that razor-sharp blade, brutally ripping my guts apart.

My body convulsed with each blade twist, I desperately longed to scream, but the agony was so overwhelming I couldnít catch my breath. I knew I was dying, the heat of hot blood running down my legs as I rapidly bled to death.

The torturer brutally twisted the blade one final time as Lisa finally lost consciousness, her body succumbing to the steady blood loss as she passed out. Then, pulling the sword out of her guts, he paused to wipe her blood off its blade as he watched the blood flowing from the wounds in Lisaís belly and back gradually slow as she finished bleeding to death.

Early the following day, Lisa awoke in one of the regeneration centerís recovery rooms, the agonizing sensation of that sharp steel blade cruelly twisting within her guts still fresh in her mind even as she looked forward to her next session in the Resortís infamous north tower of death...