Real Stories - September/October 2007

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However it was not to be, as this novice had ominously taken her role in the fantasy I'd devised quite literally and was gradually increasing the intensity of the torture. Not only that, she was diabolically inventive with her limited resources and now, totally indifferent to my increasingly desperate attempts to register some indication that I wanted urgently to communicate, she relentlessly upped the pain level.

Exasperated by my early jerking about in my suspended state to avoid the torture and in yet another unnerving example of her cold-blooded ingenuity, she undid the thin rope that was tied to each corner of an old heavy steel framed bed in the room and knotted them together. She bound my swollen testicles tightly with one end and then – forcing the rest of the line through my pinioned thighs, jerked me back – and then tied the other end to the foot of the bed.

Now my movement hanging on the hook was very much restricted and I dare not attempt to pull away too much from my tormentor as she remorselessly continued to act in the role I'd requested. I thought I was about get some small moment of relief when she relaxed back against the old set of drawers and lit up a cigarette. But after a few deep draws, she looked at the red-hot end of the cigarette and then looked at me - and I knew what was about to happen.