Creative Torture Device

His scalp felt like it was being set on fire. Sweat was now dripping from every orifice imaginable. His throat was beginning to feel like sandpaper. How much longer was he going to have to endure this, he wondered.

“Please let me out of here… I’m begging you.” He said weakly.

His captor shook her head with a sadistic smile on her face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drevor. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not until you tell me what I need to know.

“Please!” He cried, his voice rasping.

“Ladies, don’t let him out of there until he talks, got it?”

One of her henchmen nodded her head in understanding, and cranked up the heat on the hair drier to its maximum level.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s