Written by Lilith Raymour
I had tied him up and gagged him, then I led him to the rack and screw in our cellar, as I muttered, “‘Rack and screw,’ how ironic.” Through a gag I could hear him laugh.
He screamed each time I pulled the lever as his arms and legs stretched a little more. His toes and fingers curled in anguish. Fear shook his body as I approached his groin and reached gently over to the ring with little spikes pointed inward and gave it a little twist. He moaned as blood trickled down.
“Did I relieve the pressure?”
“I’ll relieve it some more.”
I spun the ring around several times as he shook back and forth in anguish.
I cracked the whip and it echoed in the cellar.
“Are we having fun yet?” I asked him.
He smiled weakly and said, “I love you.”
“I know, I can tell, you look stiffer than you’ve ever been.”
“I’m ready. Let’s make love. Release me.”
“Oh, I promised I’d get you all bothered, but I never promised I’d release you.”
His smile grew almost wider than his face, “Want me even harder?”
“Not quite, your brother is waiting upstairs. I’m leaving you down here. Maybe someone will find you. Or not.”
I could hear my husband’s muffled screams, “No, no, no” over and over again as I climbed the cellar stairs to meet my one true love.
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