Agonized screams fill your ears as you sit huddled up in the dark and damp dungeon cell. The putrid scent of decaying flesh drifts into your nostrils from the rotting mutilated corpse a few feet away, lying in a pile of musty straw. Your limbs are cold, and most of your flesh is bare as you wear naught but torn up rags. Your hair is mussed and dirty, tresses sticking every which way and some hanging in your heavy eyes. You shiver against the chilly stone wall, your skin almost numb with the cold. Your breath comes out in little puffs until you hold your breath upon hearing another retched scream. You close your eyes in hope to block out the noise, your surroundings, when suddenly everything about you goes quiet except for the glacial wind blowing on the outside walls.

The thudding of heavy footsteps fill your ears, drawing closer. A dim light shines through the crack beneath the barred wooden door. The footsteps stop and you hear the clinking of keys. You sit frozen, holding your breath for what seems eternity when you hear the key enter the lock, turning until the click indicated that the door had been unlocked. The latch lifts and the door slowly swings open. You watch in stock terror as the dungeon keeper steps in, a cruel sadistic grin settling upon his crackled lips. Held firmly in his right hand is a long leather whip, positioned ready to strike if the need arises. Your stare at it as if it were your death wish before you finally tear your gaze from it, lifting your eyes to the keeper. His dark eyes glow with amusement as two bulky guards entering the cell from behind. They grabbed you roughly by your arms and practically drag your limp body from the cold cell. The odor of the keeper drifts your way, both the smells of sweat and blood, even a hint of vomit. Your back tenses. You want to fight, but you don’t have the strength or the will.

The guards continue to drag you down the hall, torches lit, and the flames causing shadows to dance upon the opposite side eerily. They finally bring you into a bright room and instantly, you are hit with the humid heat that seems to warm your chilled bones. Slowly lifting your head, your eyes scan the items in front of you. Your bones suddenly begin to turn cold once more and terror strikes you in the face.

Many instruments lay scattered about the room, a racket bed in the center, a hint of blood staining the wood, a wall lined with hooks with various types of whips hanging and many occupied chairs lined the very end of the room; all but one. Each occupant sat still, though you are unable to see him or her. A dark colored blanket had been thrown over each and every one to keep others from looking at what torture they had gone through.

You’re suddenly jerked as the guards toss you upon the racket bed, grabbing your wrists and ankles, tying the rope securely, yet painfully as the rope cuts into your flesh.

"Leave!" commanded the booming, raspy voice of the keeper.

You squint against the bright firelight as you listen to the steps of the guards as they exit the torture chamber. You try and lift your headd, but you have not the will. Suddenly, a large shadow is cast upon you. Letting your head roll to the side, you look at the keeper as he stands next to the hard wooden bed. Your eyes widen at seeing him in close range. Craters covered his oily and quite large face. He had no neck, but it looks as though his head and neck were one as they connected to his shoulders. Long, thick dark brows, almost looking as one were sticking out and his dark eyes born into you so coldly a chill ran down your spine. His head was bald except for the few patches of dirty hair, which was caked to his head from the sweat, and his clothing were soiled.

"Do you like pain?" he asked calmly as if it were an every day conversation.

The word seemed to repeat itself over and over inside your head.

"You will expirence it quite soon, of that, I promise you."

The large man suddenly left your side. You felt that you could breath a little easier, but not by much. The room reeked of foul smells; vomit, blood, sweat.

Death.

You could feel your stomach churn painfully as you lay still, awaiting your fate.

Not long after the keeper left, he returned, holding in his hand a blood stained needle and a spool of thick dark thread. You draw your brows together in confusion but soon, it hit you as you watched the needle being threaded. His eyes locked with yours, taking great pleasure in your fear.

He leans closer, holding the needle in one hand as he draws it to your lips. You try to turn your head away from the long piece of metal but he grabs your head, holding it firmly. You begin to feel the prick beneath your lower lip that seems to grow more and more painful with the more pressure. It stings horribly as it penetrates your flesh, the string unbearable. Soon, the needle enters fully through the lip and you could feel the string being pulled through the little hole as a warm liquid runs down your chin, dripping to your bare neck. His grin broadens seeing the blood.

"This is only the beginning."

You close your eyes tightly feeling the tip of the dull needle begin to enter the inside of your top lip, pushing through the tender flesh. You taste the metallic of blood as it runs past your teeth and onto your tongue. You squeeze your eyes tighter feeling the needle pass through layers upon layers of flesh before it finally past through. Tears well up in your closed eyes, a droplet sliding down the corner and into your hair.

"No cries? I’m impressed," he chuckled dryly.

The torture went on for long minutes until soon, your entire mouth was sown shut, blood already beginning to dry and crust.

"There now," he laughed viciously, stepping away once again to view his work before disappearing.

You lay there, frozen with fear of not knowing what is to come. Your lips sting painfully, as you are unable to move them without the discomfort. You soon feel the restraints on your ankles being loosened as well as your wrists as the keeper makes his way around, a knife held firm in his large hand. Still, you are too weak to move. Months of starvation hand sucked you dry of your strength as the guards had given you naught but a couple sips of water a day to keep you alive. You feel yourself being lifted and turned onto your stomach, the air being knocked out of you and causing you to try and open your mouth, pulling against the thread and tearing the flesh. You groan in pain and close your eyes, trying to ignore it. The restraints are once again replaced, even tighter than before, the rope digging and scraping away your flesh in a burning sensation. The tearing of the little clothing on your back fills the room. Questions reel through your mind as you try to not think of what is to come. You hear the knife being set down and then the thudding of boots walk away toward the wall in front of you. Tilting your head with as much as your strength will allow, you watch the keeper take down a rather long whip. Your eyes widen and a cold sweat breaks out upon your brow. He turns in time to see your reaction and again his lips break into another cruel grin.

Holding the whip in both hands with about two feet in between his outstretched hands, he steps closer, making his way around you until he is at your side. You hear a clicking as his hand closes over a lever and you feel yourself being tilted backwards so you are lying diagonally. The ropes cut into your raw skin, causing you to wince. You watch the keeper move away until he is out of sight, standing right behind you.

"I’m very sure you will enjoy this, but not nearly as much as I."

His cruel laughter filled the room and there was a quick whisk of air being heard before a loud snap cried out. You jerk at the violent strike, the leather having dug into your flesh, tearing it open and your lips burning. You try and clamp your teeth shut, grinding them together, trying not to open your mouth and cry out in fear that the thread will rip through your lips. Another crack fills the room as you again jerk your back as you go tense with pain. Warm liquid flows down your back from the open gap. Many more cracks of the whip came down upon your back. About after the twentieth, you feel your back go numb. Your heart seems to pound in your ears and darkness suddenly takes over.

You awake to a rough smack across your face, your cheek stinging as well as your lips as the tread is pulled. Your back burns horribly and you see that you are now lying on it. Every little movement causes you more pain. The keeper looks down at you with a sneer.

"You finally wake. Good. I was beginning to worry that you fell asleep on me."

You watch as he sits upon a tall stool, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Beside him in a small table with a large bowl of long, thin needles sitting in the center. Reaching in, he plucks one out and turns to you, bringing the needle closer.

"Such a little thing, but yet, it causes so much pain."

He brings the needle closer to your stomach. The tip presses against your flesh as it slowly begins to penetrate you, sliding in. Your eyes close tightly as you grind your teeth together, making a pained sound in the back of your throat feeling the needle travel in deeper. More followed until your stomach was full of them. A small trickle of blood runs from the corner of your sown lips, sliding down your cheek.

The keeper looks at the blood and lifts a finger; wiping at it he brings his finger to his lips and licks it off.

Your head begins to roll back and forth feeling light-headed. Your vision begins to blur and again, the darkness consumes you.

You awake on your own this time, finding yourself lying horizontally. Your whole body aches and burns with pain from the past events. Slowly, you open your eyes, blinking back the blurriness as you try to focus, feeling a breeze whoosh, cooling your fevered skin. Finally, your vision clears and you look at the ceiling above, only it’s not a ceiling you are staring at. Above you is a very long, thin, curved blade, which gleams in the light of the fire. Then you realize, it’s a pendulum. Your eyes search frantically, but you know there is no escape. It was already mere inches from your flesh. It continues to swing back and forth, lowering with each turn. Lower and lower. You feel the cool metal brush the top of your sore, hole filled stomach, but pulling your stomach in only made the pain worse. You grind your teeth and again the pendulum lowers. You try and cry out against the thread as it almost tears through your lips, the metal cutting open the first layer of your flesh. It lowers more, cutting deeper and deeper and you cry out against the thread, until to keep from doing so.

Soon, the pendulum lowers again, but this time, cutting your stomach clear open, blood splurging every which way, staining the silver metal. Blood seems to stain your eyes and you half gap against the threads in your lips. The pain searing before everything goes black; a dark laughter echoing through your mind as death takes you.