Home.. Perilous Resort.. The Red Room

Here at the Resort, the last thing any submissive masochistic vacation club member should expect within one of the Resort’s torture chambers is to set limits. The masochist and her torturer may work out a script for their session. Still, while a professional Resort torturer may stick closely to the script, for a sadistic vacation club member, once the session begins, the script is nothing more than a set of vague guidelines they may choose to follow or ignore regardless of the submissive’s desires.

Of course, at the Resort, there are attractions never seen by submissive, masochistic vacation club members, attractions where Resort companions eagerly await the attentions of the cruelest, most brutally sadistic vacation club members. Attractions that are even among the most masochistic of Resort companions are only mentioned in terrified whispers. One of these places, spoken of only in whispers, is the Red Room, a place reserved for only the most brutally sadistic, where they can freely partake of its blood-soaked pleasures. Welcome to the Red Room.

Tonight, Vanessa, one of the Resort’s more experienced companions, awaits the arrival of Damian, a brutally sadistic vacation club member whom she had the misfortune to meet a year earlier, on a night that still haunts her darkest nightmares. An agonizingly brutal night of unspeakable torture, precisely one year earlier, here in the Resort’s Red Room. He’s promised to repeat all he did to her a year earlier in every gruesome detail, with a few diabolic enhancements. Tonight, she’ll live her darkest nightmare simply for his amusement, and what a brutal nightmare it was.

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Like that night a year ago, Damian entered the torture chamber but didn’t say a word. He grabbed my wrist and led me over to the chamber’s St. Andrew’s Cross, where he secured my wrists, ankles, and waist before gagging and blindfolding me. I felt a sudden sensation of cold steel between my breasts as he cut away my bra, leaving me topless.

He was inside me a moment later, driving his cock painfully up against my cervix as he stretched the tight walls of my vagina in a single powerful thrust. Damian fucked me deep and hard for what seemed like an hour, his inhuman staying power driving me to multiple orgasms before he finally climaxed deep inside me. Several minutes later, as I felt his rock-hard erection slipping out of me, it only confirmed my suspicions that he was once again using one of the Resort’s male enhancement drugs.

As I hung there, basking in the afterglow of at least a dozen overwhelming orgasms, I heard Damian over at the table filled with handheld medieval instruments of torture. As for the orgasms, what can I say? Start with tight, inescapable bondage, the promise of hours of agonizing torture, and add exquisite bondage sex, and I lose all self-control.

A moment later, the agonizing torture won out as Damian pushed a red-hot needle through my left nipple and deep into my breast. The pungent smell of burning flesh and my gag-stifled screams filled the torture chamber as he pushed a second needle through my right nipple. Before I could catch my breath, he followed up with ten red-hot needles through the areolas of each of my breasts, closely circling each of my nipples.

I was still trying to come to terms with the agony radiating from my breasts when I felt Damian forcing a butt plug deep into my rectum. While I appreciated that he’d lubricated the plug before forcing it into my guts, it took a moment to realize the size of the plug he was brutally forcing my anal muscles to accommodate. I also didn’t know the plug he was forcing into me came with an integral enema nozzle.

Smiling, he felt Vanessa struggling to resist the massive plug he was slowly forcing deeper into her rectum. He briefly paused as the largest diameter of the fist-sized plug reached her anus, wondering what hurt worse, the still hot needles within her breasts or the brutally oversized butt plug forcing its way into her rectum. Then he slowly pressed it deeper until the plug’s widest part slipped past Vanessa’s anus and entered her rectum, allowing her anal muscles to tighten to grip the plug’s vastly smaller base.

A darkly ominous look of evil anticipation slowly appeared on his face as he connected the hose leading from the six-quart enema bag to the integral enema nozzle’s one-way valve within the butt plug and unclipped the hose clamp. Damian knew that the plug’s size and dimensions ensured that almost all the body temperature, fiendishly painful, cramp-inducing enema fluid flowed directly into Vanessa’s colon.

Watching as the enema fluid flowing into Vanessa caused her body to convulse in agony, Damian glanced over at the steel spikes heating in the coals of the brazier, deciding that they still weren’t hot enough. Glancing down at his still massively erect cock, he smiled. More than enough time to fuck her again before they’re ready; besides, she’s still wet from the first time.

Despite the lingering pain of the still-hot needles in my breasts and the steadily increasing agony as that enema filled my guts, my body betrayed me once again as Damian fucked me to multiple orgasms for a second time.

I could feel my belly slowly starting to swell as the unforgiving fluid continued to flow into my abdomen. The cramping was exquisitely unbearable, coming in waves of steady, overlapping torment that only grew more intense with every passing moment.

Damian managed another four orgasms inside Vanessa’s steadily swelling belly, the tight-fitting red latex six-garter girdle supporting her stockings, keeping her lower belly from noticeably expanding as the last of the enema fluid flowed into her guts. Glancing up as his now flaccid cock slipped out of Vanessa’s sex, he noticed the clear plastic enema bag still held about a quart of fluid. Grasping the bag, he squeezed, forcing the remaining fluid into Vanessa’s noticeably swollen belly. Then, putting on the heavy leather gloves, Damian picked up the first glowing steel spikes from the brazier’s flames.

Vanessa struggled to catch her breath, her breathing reduced to shallow inhales due to the upward pressure of the enema fluid against the underside of her diaphragm. The waves of steady, overlapping torment had only grown more intense, the agonizing cramps coming so close together she could no longer tell where one ended and the next began. Between the needles in her breasts and the enema, it was all a masochist’s darkest nightmare, and she was loving every moment. What came next, not so much.

Positioning the spike’s glowing tip just beneath the side of Vanessa’s ribcage, Damian pushed the red-hot spike deep into her left kidney as she screamed in gag-stifled agony. Moments later, a second spike followed the first just an inch or so lower into the same kidney. Vanessa struggled helplessly against the restraints to no avail as a second pair of red-hot spikes followed, piercing her right kidney. The unbearable agony, along with the revolting smell of burning flesh, overwhelmed any lingering ability of her masochistic mind to derive pleasure from the brutality that she was helplessly enduring.

The red-hot spikes were something unexpected. In hindsight, Venessa had seen them in the brazier’s flames as Damian strapped her to the St. Andrew’s Cross. It was in that horrifying moment that she realized there had been six, not four, spikes heating in the brazier’s flames.

A moment later, her fears were justified as Damian pushed the fifth slightly longer spike into Venessa’s right side, several inches below the ones going into her kidney, and pierced her liver. Before she could draw enough breath to scream, a second spike followed the first one deep into her liver.

With all thoughts of masochistic pleasure reduced to a twisted, nightmarish memory, Venessa suddenly realized for the first time since becoming a Resort companion why the companion conditioning made it impossible for her to lose consciousness for any reason other than blood loss. That and the sudden realization that she was still conscious because the red-hot steel of the spikes in her kidneys and liver cauterized her wounds were the only reasons she hadn’t already bled out.

Already knowing that any further torture would likely result in Venessa’s death, Damian moved on to the night’s finale. Picking up the clamp with its attached chain from the chamber’s table of torture implements, he gathered Venessa’s long blonde hair behind her neck and threaded it through the clamp before tightening it. Then, pulling Venessa’s head back, he forced her shoulders to arch as far as the restraints would allow and secured the chain to the hook mounted on the back of the St. Andrew’s Cross’s center.

Pausing to admire Venessa’s desperately heaving breasts, Damian knelt and removed the lower pin, locking the base of the St. Andrew’s Cross’s supporting post from its floor mount, leaving only the upper pin holding the cross in place.

Standing, Damian grasped a handful of Venessa’s hair to ensure she didn’t plunge to the spikes prematurely as he reached around and roughly fondled her enema-straining abdomen before reaching up to press the needles piercing her nipples deeper into her breasts. Then, tightening his grasp on her hair, he slowly leaned Venessa several feet closer to the spike before releasing his grip and allowing her to plunge screaming onto the spikes below.

Venessa fell onto the spikes, her weight and the weight of the St. Andrew’s Cross driving the spikes through her body and deep into the cross’s wood. Damian smiled at the labored cries and moans of agony escaping Venessa’s tightly gagged mouth. Last year, when he’d dropped her onto the spikes, she died almost instantly, one spike piercing her right eye and going deep into her brain, another into the left side of her throat, severing her carotid artery.

Tonight, things were pleasantly different. The addition of the hair clamp, holding Venessa’s head painfully back, prevented the spikes from reaching her face or upper neck. Also, the barely noticeable drain slot running entirely around the edges of the raised wooden bed of spikes prevented the enema fluid from running out across the torture chamber’s floor as it did the previous year.

In the end, much to Damian’s sadistic delight, Venessa managed to survive for almost an entire, gloriously masochistic hour of agony before she finally bled to death. She remembered the Resort’s concierge desk’s warning not to spoil the night for Damian. Especially if he thought that Venessa, in her own way, was enjoying the night as much as he was. After all, he’d already made a reservation for the Red Room for this time next year and reserved Venessa for the night, something they’re both looking forward to, if from a dramatically different perspective...