A low hiss of erotically submissive bliss escaped from behind the oversized ball gag filling Caroline's sensuous mouth as she struggled to remain absolutely still. The chilling sensation of cold steel lodged obscenely deep within hot wetness of her straining vagina sending a delightful shiver of darkly masochistic delight racing through her vulnerable exposed body.

Darkly reminiscent of Bishop's perilous tales of Fanni Hall, the tall stainless steel impalement post completely filled Caroline's sex, it's massive phallic tip painfully stretching the tight walls of her vagina to accommodate it's inhumanly filling girth, and despite the considerable height of her tall stiletto heels, the post's cold unyielding tip pressed painfully deep into Caroline's aching cervix.

Tonight was our tenth anniversary. The time had passed so quickly it almost didn't seem possible that we'd been together for that long. Our relationship went beyond the intimacy of lovers, beyond the trust of marriage, he was someone I willingly and gladly called Master. Over the years our relationship had grown beyond the need for limits or even safe words. I had willingly become his to do with as he pleased. Time and the whip had removed any lingering traces of free will I might have once had until all that remained now was the slave.

Tonight, Master promised me something special and the sight that greeted me, as he led me down the stairs into our soundproof basement dungeon, made my knees go weak. Master had moved the torture rack that usually occupied the brightly lit center of our dungeon playroom. And standing in its place was something out of my darkest most submissively masochistic fantasies. For as long as I can remember I've been infatuated with perilous images of fiendish torture and some of earliest and most influential of those were the perilously diabolical tortures endured by the helplessly bound damsels portrayed in the fiendish artwork of Bishop.

An overwhelming rush of emotions washed through me as Master helped me up onto the impalement post. Pausing to inspect the post's ring of spikes, Master insured their protective covers were still securely fastened before twisting the post's locking ring and sliding the upper half of the impalement post as down as far as possible.

I uttered a sharp cry of pure masochistic pleasure as I felt the cold steel tip of the impalement post slipping between the moist folds of my sex. Even with the post's upper half lowered as far as possible I'd still needed to briefly raise high unto my toes to get my crotch up and over the tip of the post. Pausing to take a deep breath, I slowly willed my calves to relax, impaling myself on the post's blunt tip as my heels sank back to the dungeon floor.

Once the impalement post's tip was safely wedged securely in the entrance of my sex, Master knelt down and slowly began to force the post's obscenely oversized phallic shaped shaft upward into me. As the post rose inside me it's still covered ring of spikes quickly forcing me to spread my legs wider and wider until I felt the blunt tip of the shaft pressing upward against my cervix.

Glancing down Caroline's eyes briefly met her Master's darkly ominous gaze. Already knowing his demand Caroline took a deep breath and willed herself back up onto her toes lifting her tall stiletto heels off the dungeon floor and allowing her Master to raise the impalement post's tip that critical extra inch before twisting the ring to lock the post in place.

Poised upon my toes I found myself trapped once again in that timeless moment of pure masochistic terror. Deep inside I could feel a steady dull throbbing ache radiating from where the blunt unyielding tip of the impalement post pressed firmly upward against my cervix. And deep down, I knew the moment I relaxed my legs and allowed the heels of my shoes to sink to the dungeon floor, that steady dull ach would explode into agonizing unrelenting pain. I could feel the slight trembling of my calves and knew I was quickly running out of time. I was still fighting to delay the inevitable when my Master removed the small wireless remote from his pocket and pressed the button that activated the powerful vibrators concealed within the impalement post's obscenely filling girth.

Years of willing servitude, years of whorishly fulfilling my Master's every carnal desire had stripped away what few inhibitions I'd ever once had. In seconds I climaxed, the sudden explosion of overwhelming pleasure quickly overpowering my desperate terror as I found myself once again openly embracing my masochistic need to suffer pain. Relaxing my calves I sank back down onto the tall heels of my shoes as that first orgasm peaked, the sudden high-pitched scream that escaped my tightly gagged mouth a darkly hedonistic mix of both pleasure and pain.

The pain was breathtaking but I no longer cared. I could feel the blunt unyielding tip of the impalement post digging painfully into my cervix but I no longer cared. I knew that given enough time, the impalement post's unrelenting pressure would slowly force my cervical canal to dilate until, in an obscene kind of reverse childbirth, the blunt tip of the post would brutally violate my uterus, but I simply didn't care.

Overwhelming waves of pain and pleasure coursed through me merging into the ultimate masochistic rush. I no longer cared how much damage the impalement post might be doing to me, nothing mattered but the incredible mix of sensations coursing through me.

My Master waited until my third orgasm had peaked before carefully reaching between my thighs to remove the protective covers from the ring of sharp spikes poised between my legs.

Glancing down at the sharp gleaming spikes ominously poised between my thighs I felt a sudden and utterly delightful spasm of abject fear coursing though me. Revealed in the bright light it was easy to distinguish the slight greenish tint that stained the tips of each spike. A greenish tint that meant a deadly neurotoxin coated each of those spikes. One that meant the slightest wound from any of those spikes would result in agonizing convulsions and death within mere minutes.

Staring down at those green tinted spikes I felt my heart race as I suddenly recalled my Master's final words before he opened the basement door and led my down into our private dungeon playroom, "Tonight, on our tenth anniversary, I will test your willing submission beyond anything you've ever experienced. And should you survive the first three tests, tests of pleasure, pain and peril, a final and more darkly insidious test still remains."

Watching as my Master turned and walked toward his chair in the shadows, I briefly reveled in my good fortune, after all what more could a willing damsel in distress want? I had it all, unrelenting pleasure, unbearable pain and now, deadly peril. Frankly, it all came together nicely in time to heighten the intensity of my next orgasm.

Caroline's Master watch his willing slave wontedly enjoy her perilous predicament for over an hour before deciding to begin her evening's final test.

Lost in her world of unending pleasure and pain, Caroline's eyes suddenly flew open as she felt the unexpected touch of her Masters fingertips brushing across her belly.

Smiling as Caroline struggled to focus on his face, "You've done well to last this long my slave but now it's time to begin your final test of the evening."

Still unaware of what lay ahead, Caroline didn't truly begin to panic until her Master knelt and removed one of her high heels.

Tossing aside Caroline's shoes her Master turned and started up the stairs, his lovely and all too willing slave girl poised helplessly upon her trembling toes.

Reaching the top of the stairs Caroline's Master opened their dungeon playroom's soundproof door before turning to gaze down into Caroline's horror filled eyes, "Nothing personal Caroline, it's been fun, but your 35 years old and well past prime as a slave girl. Tomorrow, after I've disposed of your dead body, I'm going to replace you with a cute and utterly willing 24 year old redhead I found on the internet last month."

Smiling as he saw the first glint of the tears beginning to well up in Caroline's lovely eyes, "Don't surrender to the panic Caroline, we both know this is the kind of erotically perilous death you've always fantasized about."

Reaching into his pocket Caroline's Master pressed the remote control's second switch, doubling the intensity of the vibrator's concealed within the impalement post's massive shaft as he concluded, "Good Night, my soon to be dead slave girl, enjoy your willing masochistic submissiveness for as long as it lasts."

Alternative, black and white, versions of this tale's images

First Image

Second Image