capable of such depravity – such cruelty? Someone who could abuse you and torment you to amuse myself?”
I looked at her steadily. T he light from the fire danced on her beautiful cheekbones, her face looked like a perfect alabaster mask in the half light. A thing of flawless beauty, sculpted by a master.
“Yes. ”
She glared angrily at me for a moment then left the room without a word.
This time there is something different about The Room as I have come to think of that dark place with its black walls and demonic red glowing light, and devices of torture scattered about.
The red light has been switched off and the room is lit instead by dozens of black wax candles that give it even more of an evil, satanic feel than usual. I notice immediately that Aunt Sophia has rearranged the room. She has pushed all her toys to one side against the wall and the center of the room has been cleared. Candles in tall free-standing wrought-iron candelabras have been placed in a perfect circle. It looks like the setting for a sacrificial ritual of some sort.
A cold shiver runs up my spine .
I glance at the video camera in the corner and see that th e little green light is on, filming as always. I turn my head and look purposefully at the one-way mirror, trying to stare right through it at the person – or people - beyond.
As always, when I enter the room, I am naked. I hear the door close behind me and turn. Aunt Sophia is standing there.
“What do you have to say to me, Julian?
I kneel on the floor before her and dutifully recite my mantra: “Give me a reason to cry, show me no mercy. Force me to my knees and use me as you will."
She nods, satisfied. “Get up. ”
She leads me to the ce nter of the circle and indicates that I must stand there. Then she begins to rub my whole body down with a fragrant oil, including my penis and testicles and anus, inserting the oil into my anus with a latex-gloved finger. Her movements are strong and strangely sensual, especially around my genitals, which instantly arouses me.
“Who is watching us through the window?” I say.
In an instant reflex she strikes me through the face violently, jerking my head back. “You know the rules, Julian,” she says calmly. “Never speak unless you are spoken to.”
She hits me again, then again through the face . I take it without flinching.
Finally she attaches two broad leather straps to my ankles that are joined together with a strong metal ring, so that now I am standing with my feet manacled close together. Then she handcuffs my wrists in front of me and attaches the handcuffs to a leather belt around my waist, the kind worn by prisoners. I cannot move my hands more than three inches from my navel. Then she places a ball gag into my mouth and buckles its leather strap tightly behind my head. I am now oiled, immobilized and effectively silenced.
I hear the sudden soft hum of a motor and a thick steel cable snakes down from the ceiling via a metal pulley attached to the ceiling. The cable is being paid out from a large electric winch bolted to the wall. Aunt Sophia holds down the button on the winch until the cable hits the floor at my feet. Then she attaches the cable to the ring between my ankle straps. She returns to the winch and presses another button and the cable begins to reel back in so that my feet are beginning to lift off the floor. I sit down quickly and soon my feet are winched up above my head until they are almost touching the ceiling and I am hanging upside down, suspended from the ceiling.
Aunt Sophia leaves the candlelit circle and I can hear the door of the heavy wooden cupboard open. This is where she keep s her instruments. She returns to the lit circle with what looks like a black shiny garbage bag. It turns out to be a tight, body-fitting latex mummy bag. She pulls it up over my head and has to climb up onto a chair to pull it all the way up to my feet so that my whole body is mummified in a black latex cocoon
I looked at her steadily. T he light from the fire danced on her beautiful cheekbones, her face looked like a perfect alabaster mask in the half light. A thing of flawless beauty, sculpted by a master.
“Yes. ”
She glared angrily at me for a moment then left the room without a word.
This time there is something different about The Room as I have come to think of that dark place with its black walls and demonic red glowing light, and devices of torture scattered about.
The red light has been switched off and the room is lit instead by dozens of black wax candles that give it even more of an evil, satanic feel than usual. I notice immediately that Aunt Sophia has rearranged the room. She has pushed all her toys to one side against the wall and the center of the room has been cleared. Candles in tall free-standing wrought-iron candelabras have been placed in a perfect circle. It looks like the setting for a sacrificial ritual of some sort.
A cold shiver runs up my spine .
I glance at the video camera in the corner and see that th e little green light is on, filming as always. I turn my head and look purposefully at the one-way mirror, trying to stare right through it at the person – or people - beyond.
As always, when I enter the room, I am naked. I hear the door close behind me and turn. Aunt Sophia is standing there.
“What do you have to say to me, Julian?
I kneel on the floor before her and dutifully recite my mantra: “Give me a reason to cry, show me no mercy. Force me to my knees and use me as you will."
She nods, satisfied. “Get up. ”
She leads me to the ce nter of the circle and indicates that I must stand there. Then she begins to rub my whole body down with a fragrant oil, including my penis and testicles and anus, inserting the oil into my anus with a latex-gloved finger. Her movements are strong and strangely sensual, especially around my genitals, which instantly arouses me.
“Who is watching us through the window?” I say.
In an instant reflex she strikes me through the face violently, jerking my head back. “You know the rules, Julian,” she says calmly. “Never speak unless you are spoken to.”
She hits me again, then again through the face . I take it without flinching.
Finally she attaches two broad leather straps to my ankles that are joined together with a strong metal ring, so that now I am standing with my feet manacled close together. Then she handcuffs my wrists in front of me and attaches the handcuffs to a leather belt around my waist, the kind worn by prisoners. I cannot move my hands more than three inches from my navel. Then she places a ball gag into my mouth and buckles its leather strap tightly behind my head. I am now oiled, immobilized and effectively silenced.
I hear the sudden soft hum of a motor and a thick steel cable snakes down from the ceiling via a metal pulley attached to the ceiling. The cable is being paid out from a large electric winch bolted to the wall. Aunt Sophia holds down the button on the winch until the cable hits the floor at my feet. Then she attaches the cable to the ring between my ankle straps. She returns to the winch and presses another button and the cable begins to reel back in so that my feet are beginning to lift off the floor. I sit down quickly and soon my feet are winched up above my head until they are almost touching the ceiling and I am hanging upside down, suspended from the ceiling.
Aunt Sophia leaves the candlelit circle and I can hear the door of the heavy wooden cupboard open. This is where she keep s her instruments. She returns to the lit circle with what looks like a black shiny garbage bag. It turns out to be a tight, body-fitting latex mummy bag. She pulls it up over my head and has to climb up onto a chair to pull it all the way up to my feet so that my whole body is mummified in a black latex cocoon
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