No Matter What You Do, Don’t Call The Number On The Wall Of The Bar Bathroom

I laid on the table and Candice set to work fitting my head, neck, arms, torso, waist, wrists, knees, and ankles with leather restraints. I thought it was the end for me. I figured this was where I was going to die. This especially rang true when Dani pressed a cattle prod to my testicles and cackled with laughter as Jenny revved up a circular saw and looked down at me with the most wicked smile I’d ever seen her wear. Candice applied a tourniquet just above my left knee. Dani proceeded to cut into the skin on my leg and peeled it back like it was a banana. I was screaming incoherently at this point only for Jenny hit the button and screamed, “Shut up!”

I tried my damnedest to comply but that went out the window when she brought down the saw on my leg.

I laid there teared up and crying as I moaned in pain and begged for death. Candice set to work folding my flayed skin over my stump and stitching it up. I was left on the table as the ladies took my leg out of the room and left me on the table. Dani returned a few minutes later and gave me an injection before looking down and saying, “You’ve been such a good boy! I’m gonna get you sitting up soon and we’ll get you downstairs in a jiffy.”

The Dani and Candice helped me into a wheelchair and pushed me to the edge of the stairs before opening the closet and revealing a small elevator. I was lowered to the first floor where Jenny met me and wheeled me to the kitchen table. I sat there sobbing to myself and staring down at my leg as Jenny moved around behind me. I started to pass out and honestly, I didn’t even fight it.

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