Tuesday evening June 2, 2020, in the study of Rachel’s private villa
Staring into the rain swept darkness, Rachel felt that familiar and delightfully terrifying sense of eager anticipation, “Computer, open a new journal entry. Begin recording.”
“Tonight, the development staff here at the Resort, has ‘volunteered’ me to test one of the Toymaker’s latest diabolically torturous deathtraps. And, while they didn’t provide any details, from my past experiences dying at the hands of the Toymaker’s deadly creations, I fully expect it will be a drawn out and obscenely agonizing experience.”
Smiling at the thought of the horrors that, with all certainty, awaited her tonight, Rachel smiled, “Computer end recording and save journal entry as both video and searchable text.”
This promises to be an entertaining night...
Already anticipating the worst, Rachel arrived at the Resort’s development center, where she was ordered to change into an incredibly tight-fitting corset and high heels, before being escorted to one of the center’s sound-proof testing chambers only to find the Crimson Executioner awaiting her arrival.
Entering the testing chamber, I was surprised to find the Crimson Executioner standing near what resembled a Spanish horse, a raised triangular steel saddle, but that where the resemblance ended. While equipped with a post mounted ankle spreader to prevent the victim from squeezing the saddle between her thighs to reduce the pressure of the saddle’s sharp upper edge against her crotch, the most diabolic addition was a tall barbed steel spike protruding obscenely upward from the center of that raised saddle.
Staring in horror at that diabolically barbed steel spike, all thoughts of eager anticipation vanished, washed away by overwhelming waves of unimagined fear, as the Crimson Executioner delightfully explained the details of my obscenely unpleasant torment. “Chosen, based on the physiology of the victim, the center mounted interchangeable impalement spike comes in a variety of lengths so that once you're seated upon the raised saddle, the tip of the spike will press painfully upward against the underside of your diaphragm making even the shallowest of breaths an extremely agonizing experience.”
I could hear the amused sadistic anticipation in his voice, “So Rachel, shall we begin?”
Moving a portable raised platform into position, the Crimson Executioner secured my wrists behind my back before helping me up onto the platform where he had me straddle the steel saddle with its ominously obscene spike. Carefully spreading my legs out to the ends of the spreader bar, he positioned the sharp tip of the spike beneath my vulnerable exposed crotch, as he locked my ankles to the ends of the bar.
Standing he placed his hand on the platform’s railing mounted control, “I’m going to slowly lower you onto the tip of the spike, stopping just before the first ring of barbs enters your vagina.”
I gasped as I helplessly felt that cold steel spike slipping upward between the warm moist folds of my sex and entering me, the tip of the spike several inches into my sex before the Crimson Executioner finally released the switch, stopping the platform’s descent.
“Now that you’re all comfy Rachel, I think it’s time we add some suspense to your deadly peril.”
I watched in horror as the Crimson Executioner moved his thumb to the other switch. Suddenly, I felt the platform moving beneath my feet as it slowly began to creep away.
Gradually, the platform continued to move, the spreader bar holding my feet in place as it slid out from under my high heels. Try as I might, I couldn’t escape the tip of that spike embedded within my vagina.
Suddenly, I felt the tall heels of my shoes slipping off the edge of the platform. Staring up into the Crimson Executioner’s eyes, I could see that familiar look of sadistic excitement as I felt the platform starting to slip from beneath my toes.
I screamed as I felt myself dropping onto that spike, the cold steel quickly slipping deeper into my vagina. The sudden explosion of agony as the spike’s sharp tip painfully stabbed through my cervix, rupturing my uterus, as it slid relentlessly upward through my corset compressed guts.
Within seconds, my crotch pressed painfully down against the sharp upper edge of the steel saddle between my obscenely spread thighs, with the entire length of that spike buried deep within me, its tip pressing agonizingly upward against the underside of my diaphragm.
Every desperate shallow breath I managed to take was an agonizing struggle, between the incredibly tight corset and the unbelievably painful tip of that spike digging into the underside of my diaphragm, I was constantly short of breath, helplessly teetering on the edge of asphyxiation.
Despite the constant shortness of breath, as the long torturously painful hours slowly passed, I started wondering how long it was going to take for me to die. Having died by impalement a few dozen times since becoming an Indentured Resort Companion, I’m no longer a stranger to the obscenely horrifying delights of impalement. In my experience, assuming, the impalement post misses your heart and lungs, death by impalement is never a quick or easy death.
However, being painfully aware that the diabolic spike I’m currently impaled upon is only tall enough to reach my diaphragm, this was promising to be an especially long and torturous affair.
Thursday early evening June 4, 2020, Resort Regeneration Chamber 58
Rachel’s regeneration was finally nearing completion. Between that horrifyingly torturous barbed spike and the always brutal attentions of the Crimson Executioner, she required far more extensive and time-consuming regeneration than normal.
Thursday evening June 4, 2020, in the study of Rachel’s private villa
Alone in the privacy of her Resort villa Rachel paused to take a delightful sip from her wine glass, before saying, “Computer, open a new journal entry. Begin recording.”
“I’d been suffering in agony on that spike for over twenty-four hours, when the Crimson Executioner unexpectedly returned to the testing chamber. Clipping a blood-oxygen sensor on my index finger, he paused to listen to the sound of my breathing.”
“Removing the sensor from my finger, he smiled beneath his crimson hood, ‘I’m glad to see that all the Toymaker’s simulation results proved correct. Judging by your shallow labored breathing, a blood-oxygen level of only 65 and a pulse rate of 98, the spike length is ideal for your physiology, Rachel.’”
“Glancing down at the dried blood coating the steel saddle beneath my crotch, ‘I see your blood loss, as predicted, also appears minimal. If you were one of our masochistically inclined Vacation Club members, you’d easily survive for the full three days listed in this brutal torture instrument’s description, but since you’re actually an Indentured Resort Companion I think we’ll move on to phase two of this evaluation.’”
“Painfully struggling to breathe and dangerously close to the point of fainting, it took a moment for the meaning of what he’d just said to sink in. What did he mean, phase two?”
“Taking a small remote out of his pocket, the Crimson Executioner pressed the switch, activating a ceiling-mounted chain hoist directly above me. Glancing up at the end of the chain slowly drawing closer, I was horrified to see that attached to the ring at the bottom of the hoist’s chain were two shorter chains, each of those ending with a large, sharp-looking steel hook.”
“Wasting no time, the Crimson Executioner quickly impaled each of my breasts with one of the hooks. Then taking the remote, he pressed the up button.”
“It took a few seconds for the hoist’s chain to grow taut. This was the moment, that I discovered that the agonizing torment I’d been enduring to this point was mere foreplay for what I was about to experience.”
“The unrelenting hoist high above slowly started to lift me off that agonizing spike, while the spike’s diabolic barbs started to rip my insides apart as I was gradually and brutally pulled upward off the spike’s shaft.”
“By the time I’d been lifted halfway off the spike, what had started as barely noticeable trickles of blood running down the insides of my thighs had become a torrent, blood coating the lower half of the spike and literally pouring over the sloped sides of the saddle to pool on the floor below.”
“I was growing weaker by the second and knew I was quickly bleeding to death. The spikes cruel barbs having reduced my crotch to a gaping bloody mess. That’s when it happened, several loops of my intestines, snagged on the barbs of the spike, started spilling out of the mutilated remains of my crotch.”
“After that, gravity did the rest. My final vision as I lost consciousness and bled out, the sight of my intestine's spilling all over the floor.”
Pausing to take another sip of wine, Rachel concluded, “Anyway, due to my prolonged stay in regeneration, the regeneration technicians talked with the companion schedulers and convinced them to give me the night off.”
“Computer end recording and save journal entry as both video and searchable text.”
Until tomorrow night...