Iron Maiden on New Year’s Eve

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Note: I found a short NYE story I wrote years ago that I thought I’d re-upload special. Happy New Year.

“How did you get the keys to this place?” Zilpha asked breathlessly.

“I know the curator,” I told her with a wink. She never suspected I might be lying.

She was trembling as we slipped in through the back entrance. “It’s down this way,” I told her, motioning toward the stairs. “Where else would you find a dungeon except down in a basement?”

She smiled excitedly, giving me her hand. I led her down the stairs, turning on lights when it became necessary. Thankfully there were no windows to the streets outside to alert anyone that the museum now had unauthorized visitors on New Year’s Eve.

We rounded a corner where I flicked on the last of the lights. There it was, standing proudly against the back wall. Zilpha gasped at the sight of it.

“There it is, love,” I whispered seductively into her ear. “…a real live Iron Maiden! I’ll bet you never expected to see one on New Year’s Eve, did you!”

“Bloody hell!” she gasped excitedly.

When I touched her shoulder, it confirmed she was trembling like a leaf! “Go ahead!” I told her. “Walk right up to it. You can touch it if you want too.”

She was a little unsteady on her feet as she slowly walked up to it. Zilpha stared at it with awe and wonder. It was closed up of course.

She couldn’t resist running a hand over its surface in reverence. She was more excited than I’d anticipated. That when she turned to me and stammered, “Can I… can I s-see the interior?”

“Certainly, love,” I breathed into her ear. Then I grabbed the door and slowly pulled it open. It made a mournful creak as though opening up its deadly embrace to its next victim.

Zilpha gasped in awe at the many lethal, metal spikes protruding from inside the door. “Bloody hell!” she murmured, panting heavily for breath. Apparently the sight of it had thrown her into a right, old tizzy!

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I murmured seductively into her ear. “Why don’t you step inside? You can try it out if you want… if you know what I mean?”

“Can I really??”

She was a little unsteady as she carefully stepped inside. Then she turned around. She appeared to be in quite a state of sexual arousal.

“Bloody hell; it’s lovely!!” she gasped in awe and wonder.

“It’ll be midnight soon,” I told her with a knowing smile. “How’d you like to be tied up naked inside the thing when Big Ben chimes in the New Year? I’ve even got a camera at the ready to record the event for you.”

“Bloody hell; could I??” she gasped, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Go ahead, love. Take your clothes off. It’s getting close to midnight. I bet you want to be inside the moment Big Ben starts chiming.”

Her hands were trembling as she fumbled to work her clothes off. In no time at all she’d stripped out of her things. I noticed right away how erect her sensuous nipples had become. Her pussy was even glistening as she dripped from her arousal.

“Five minutes to midnight,” I told her, hurrying her along.

When she was ready, I helped her inside. I smiled as I told her, “Let’s make it look realistic, love.” Then I began to strap her in.

She was all fidgety as though she could hardly stand herself. Her breathing was heavy and ragged; her excitement palpable. I even saw a trickle of her arousal slither down her inner thigh.

I got her all strapped in. Then I proceeded to take some pictures. She looked great, naked and writhing all aroused like that as she stood inside the Iron Maiden.

It was an incredible turn-on for me as well. It had turned out to be a marvelous idea. I could only wonder if she had an inkling of my true intentions.

“Ok, love,” I told her as I moved toward the door. “Big Ben is about to strike. I’ll bet we can hear the chimes from all the way down here. Don’t worry, love. As soon as he hits the first chime of the New Year I’ll slam the door shut on you.”

She looked at me for a long moment. That’s when her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You’re… you’re k-kidding… right?”

“Of course not,” I told her with a menacing glint in my eyes. “This has always been a fantasy of yours, right? What a treat it’s going to be for the curator to come down on January 2nd and see a pattern of blood oozing out from underneath his Iron Maiden. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Y-you’re joking,” she stammered breathlessly. “You m-must be joking, love.”

“You just settle in and enjoy the ride, darling.”

She inhaled sharply as I reached out to caress her small, heaving breasts. Her eyes got big as saucers as she looked at me in complete and utter shock. That’s when I laid it all out for her.

“You’ll have 25 seconds to get ready while the Westminster Chimes plays the full hour, darling. Then, at the first stroke of midnight, I’ll slam the door shut on you. How does that sound?”

“Bloody HELL!” she gasped. “You wouldn’t… WOULD YOU??”

At that moment we heard the first four chimes of the full hour. Zilpha inhaled sharply. Then she let out a squeal as she climaxed right there inside the Iron Maiden. It was time.

I grabbed the door as the second set of four chimes sounded. The poor thing shuddered as she continued to orgasm. Then I got ready to swing it closed as the third set of chimes rang out.

She was staring at me in utter horror as the last of the quartet of chimes sounded. Then she screamed as I slammed the door on her. It closed with a loud metallic clang.

Her cries instantly became muffled. From off in the distance I heard Big Ben toll its twelve solemn tones. It was the start of the New Year.

I waited until well after Elizabeth Tower had gone silent as Zilpha moaned and cried out. That’s when I noticed a stream of blood begin to ooze out from the bottom of the Iron Maiden. It followed a little grooved track cut into the foundation of the granite platform the medieval torture device stood upon.

I waited a good five minutes, fascinated at the flow of crimson. Zilpha’s muffled cries lessened until she went completely silent. Then I carefully opened the door back up.

Zilpha looked like a virtual pin cushion. Blood flowed from numerous puncture wounds. Her eyes were glazed over in death, wide with horror the moment the door had slammed shut on her.

Her lips were parted from the cries of her wounded, perforated body. There was also a wet mess between her legs. She’d lost control of her bladder the moment she’d climaxed.

Her urine mixed with her life’s blood at her feet.  Crimson flowed freely from her many wounds. The device had worked far better than I could have possibly imagined.

I whispered, “I hope it was all you wanted it to be, love.” Then I tenderly kissed her lips before locking her back inside. Thanks to me, the curator now had a modern day example of how his Iron Maiden functioned.

2012; 2019 (written for Zilpha Dec 27 ’12; ed. Dec 2 ‘19 by riwa)

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