Earlier this afternoon, desperate to escape the unseasonably hot weather, I decided to drop in at one of the convenient Vacation Club member's services locations that dot the Resort’s island paradise and inquire about the availably of my favorite professional torturer for a delightfully torturous appointment later this evening.

Pausing to enter my query into his workstation, the concierge desk associate smiled, “Actually, due to a last minute cancellation, Ivan has a nine o’clock opening this evening if you’re interested. Would you like to know the scenario for the evening?”

Smiling back I replied, “Nine o’clock sounds absolutely divine, and I’ve no need to know the scenario’s details, I’ve come to trust in Ivan’s creative and utterly diabolic attention to details. Besides, I just love surprises.”

I could see the look of amusement in the associate’s eyes as he tapped a few more keys on his workstation, “I’ve confirmed your reservation with Ivan for nine o’clock this evening, the Resort’s North Tower, sublevel three, torture chamber twelve. And if there’s anything we here at member services can do to make your stay more enjoyable for the remainder of your visit, please don’t hesitate to contact us.”

Checking in at the North Tower’s reservation desk about fifteen minutes before my appointment time with Ivan, the receptionist smiled as she confirmed my reservation, “It seems everything is ready for your evening with Ivan. However, there’s also a note saying that he’s left a package for you in chamber twelve's vestibule and requested that you change into its contents before entering the actual torture chamber.”

Riding the elevator down to sublevel three, I wondered what exactly Ivan had planned for me. A wardrobe change wasn’t like him. Normally, he never cares about what I’m wearing. After all, with him, I’m usually naked and screaming in agony five minutes after entering the torture chamber. Still, I found myself grinning as I thought this should prove interesting...

The ‘wardrobe’ I found left little to the imagination, a silver satin thong, a tight-fitting steel collar with matching steel wrist cuffs. Changing into Ivan’s requested wardrobe, I walked barefoot into the waiting torture chamber.

Entering the torture chamber, I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw Ivan waiting next to the chamber’s vaguely familiar looking instrument of death. Suddenly, it hit me. I’d seen a similar-looking instrument of torturous death featured on one of the Resort’s popular entertainment shows, ‘The Old Ways', and if I recalled correctly during an episode entitled, ‘The Sumerian Spike.’ However, as I came closer, I noticed several chilling differences. First, the spike appeared to be thinner and far longer than the one featured in that show. And second, the wooden posts that secured the victim with her navel aligned with the spike’s tip were missing, replaced by chains attached to the device itself.

Smiling at the growing look of dread on Amy’s lovely eyes, Ivan set aside his heavy mallet and grabbing Amy’s arm, dragged her in front of the torture instrument’s sharp-looking spike. Forcing the terrified woman to turn until her back faced the waiting spike he reached down and ripped the thong panties from her hips, grabbed her by her throat and roughly forced her to bend forward at the waist.

I could feel Ivan’s iron like grip against the back of my throat keeping me awkwardly bend over, his other hand gripping the side of my hip, urging me up onto my toes, as he slowly started pushing me backward toward the sharp waiting tip of the spike. Suddenly, I felt the tip of the spike pressing steadily deeper into the tightness of my anus. I struggled to pull away but Ivan held my tight, forcing the spike’s tip slowly into the depths of my rectum until the cheeks of my ass pressed firmly against the round wooden front of the spike’s stand. Then, as Ivan pulled my arms back to secure my wrist restraints to the short waiting chains, the taut chains drew me backward trapping the tip of the spike obscenely deep within my ass. With my wrists secured, Ivan forced me to lean even further forward and secured the collar around my throat to the chain attached to the base of the spike’s stand.

As I helplessly watched Ivan picking up that oversized wooden mallet, I suddenly realized what was about to happen to me. A unlike that woman in the ‘The Sumerian Spike’ episode this spike wasn’t going to go in through my navel and come out of my back, it was already uncomfortably deep with my rectum and the way I was so awkwardly bent forward left little doubt to exactly where this far longer spike would be coming out.

My heart pounding wildly within my chest, I already know there was absolutely no hope of Ivan showing the slightest hint mercy, as I felt my anal muscles involuntarily tightening in one final desperate attempt to expel that spike’s sharp invading tip as Ivan raised the mallet up behind me, the loud wooden smack of the mallet against the base of the spike driving its shaft agonizingly deep into my guts.

Gasping for breath, I opened my mouth to scream just as Ivan hit the base of the spike again, my all too brief scream ending in a sick gurgling sound as the spike finished its torturously painful journey through my body, its sharp tip exiting through my mouth.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I stared down at the tip of that jaw straining spike protruding obscenely between my lips, the waves of unbearable agony coursing through me as my slowly dying body helplessly shifted upon the spike with every shallow breath I managed to take.

No stranger to the torturous delights of impalement, I knew that I had no choice but to helplessly endure this obscenely agonizing torment, one that I knew would last for several long, unspeakably torturous hours before I finally died.

Pam, one of the Resort’s regeneration technicians, monitoring Amy’s recovery, glanced over at her associate, “I heard she survived quite a while after being impaled.”

Her co-worker laughed, “Yes. She actually set a new record as far as Ivan’s impalement victims go.”

Smiling to herself, Pam knew she has some vacation days coming up and was already thinking about scheduling a visit with Ivan. Watching Amy floating within that regeneration tank, she wasn’t sure she could beat Amy’s record, but she also knew that she desperately wanted to try...

Safely back at my villa high on the hills overlooking the Resort after completing regeneration, I poured a glass of wine and gazed up at the night’s full moon as I thought about my latest session with Ivan. One of the things I’ve always admired is his diabolically torturous imagination, but the raw brutality of this latest session was by far one of the most horrific experiences I’ve yet endured here at the Resort.

Until now, I’d always thought that impalement upon the Jessica-3000 and Jessice-5000 live impalement machines used in the Resort’s kitchens to prepare meat girls for roasting was quick, but even they take several minutes to push the spit completely through your body. However, the horrifying way Ivan brutally pounded that agonizing spike through my helplessly bound body, skewering me in mere seconds, by far the quickest, most brutal impalement I’ve ever experienced in my twenty-nine years as a Resort Vacation Club member.

And easily, the most horrific part of the whole torturously painful experience, the thirty-one long hours of pure unrelenting agony it took before I finally died...