“Oh, sweet Jesus…” I moaned. My fingers twitched and curled around the ornate metal shaft. For a moment, I almost forgot myself. Almost. I tightened my grip. Licked the salt and snot from my lips. Fluid leaked from my eyes and nose. My legs and crotch chafed under damp fabric. Leaning against the rigid pole, I hooked one leg around it. I rubbed my face against the cold, smooth surface like a babe seeking a teat.
“God, please…” I heard myself making soft, whimpering sounds as I rattled the chains that lashed me to the rod. I couldn’t help myself anymore and I broke down, begging for release.
And then, out of the mist a hand reached towards my nose. And scratched.
Nightmare Fuel 2019, Day 3