Whitney's Torment - Sex Stories

Whitney's Torment

Standing before the mirror Whitney marveled at her new more youthful self, her body miraculously restored to the firm toned sexy figure that had once caught the eye of the world’s premiere bondage and fetish photographers in the early 1990’s. Smiling Whitney pulled up her t-shirt and gleefully cupped her full firm breasts, which unlike the rest of her youthful figure still retained their impressive 38 DD size but without the aid of implants. Sensing Whitney’s overwhelming delight at the sight of her restored youth, Lady Jenova’s ghostly envoy smiled with amusement as he allowed her a moment to fully come to terms with the value of Lady Jenova’s offer of eternal youth before continuing, “Accept Lady Jenova’s offer of eternal youth and beauty as one of her willing pleasure slaves but know Whitney that Lady Jenova’s offer comes with a dark and terrible price. Eternal youth and beauty, of days filled with unimagined erotic delight, but the cost, an eternity of nights filled with unspeakably painful torturous death and mutilation within the Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers.” Admiring her restored youthful appearance, Whitney considered the brutal dark side of Lady Jenova’s offer, but even Whitney had to pause at the magnitude of the cost, to spend every night for all eternity dying by agonizing torture in exchange for eternal youth and beauty. Still, she’d endured some really painful indignities in her bondage and fetish modeling career so how bad could it really be? Sensing ...

... Whitney’s sudden decision, Lady Jenova’s ghostly envoy smiled darkly, “Your choice is made pretty one, although perhaps a choice that’s consequences you haven’t fully comprehended.” Whitney gasped in sudden fear as she watched her bedroom quickly fading away into darkness. Standing silently waiting within one of the most ancient torture chambers within the Underworld’ dungeons Nergal smiled with amused anticipation as the chamber’s doors opened and Whitney, Lady Jenova’s latest willing pleasure slave, materialized out the darkness. Whitney watched in shocked amazement as her bedroom suddenly vanished, replaced by what she instinctively realized, having done countless photo shoots in dungeon decorated sets, to be a horrifyingly authentic dungeon torture chamber. “A sudden chill enveloped me as my tee shirt and jeans dissolved into a cloud of dust only to reform into stockings, high heels and the tightest corset I think I’ve ever worn. The gold rings that pierced my nipples suddenly linked by pair of slender gold chains.” Sensing Whitney’s understandable confusion Nergal stepped forward out of the shadows and handed her a glass of wine, “Good evening Ms. Prescott, my name is Nergal, and I’d like to welcome you to the darkest reaches of the Underworld’s dungeon torture chambers.” Pausing to take a brief sip of wine, “I understand that before your retirement, many considered you the premier bondage and fetish model of your era.” Still to shocked to speak, Whitney managed to nod ...