There is very little light in the box, but what there is reveals my surroundings, which only serve to feed my terror. What appear to be air holes have been drilled in the metal casing, but there are far more of them than is strictly necessary, I think they are there only to provide enough illumination for me to fully appreciate my predicament.

The box is human-shaped, providing enough space for a person of average height to stand, arms away from the body and legs apart. It is hinged to allow the victim to enter, as I was forced to do by your wife, who then closed it. I heard her attaching the padlocks, and then saw her looking in through the slit in front of my eyes.

"I hope you are comfortable in there, slut, you will be in there for quite a while."

I don't respond.  I keep perfectly still, hardly daring to even breathe. Less than an inch from my body, an array of frighteningly sharp metal spikes protrudes from the front of the box,  threatening to pierce my skin  if I fall against them. I know that a similar set is directly behind me, forcing me to stand between the spikes. It is fortunate that your wife warned me to spread my legs and my arms, because a number of longer spikes close to my body and between my legs would have pierced my limbs if I had not.

I have been standing here for what feels like hours, trying desperately not to move,, every muscle in my body aching from the strain of keeping still. The room is empty, I am completely alone,  apart from the tiny WebCam  which is close to my face, recording my stress and anguish as sweat breaks out on my brow and runs down stinging my eyes.

I hear the door open,  and see your wife enter. She comes over to me, and I hear something happening above me. I hope that she is about to release me, but I couldn't be more wrong. I hear the electric motor of the winch start up, a rattling chain above me, and suddenly the iron maiden lurches off the ground! Unable to stop myself, I sway forward, and dozens of thin needle-like metal shards press against my body from my shoulders to my knees. I scream in pain, but fight the urge to pull back, knowing that this will merely repeat the torture on my back. I wait for the casing to stabilise, trying to ignore the agony coming from my breasts, stomach, thighs. Once the rocking has stopped, I ease myself carefully off the spikes and resume my stressful stance. Tears run down my face as the throbbing pain tortures me, and I feel tiny trickles of blood on my body.

I am alone again, and more time passes. When your wife returns again, I no longer hope that she will free me, I fear that she will find some new torment for me. My fear is well founded.

I can't tell what she's done, but she now stands in front of me, watching me intently. After a few minutes, I realise that it is getting warmer inside the metal box. I start to feel a pain in the soles of my feet… I'm now sweating all over my body as the air in the box heats up… I realise that she has started a fire underneath me! She intends to cook me in here!

I scream, I cry, I beg. She just stands there impassively,  a smile on her face. I am forced to lift my foot from the burning metal surface, and I feel the metal  spikes pressing into my buttocks and shoulder blades. I transfer my weight to my other foot, trying to ease the burning pain,  and I rock forward onto the spikes, driving them into my breasts. My screams reverberate from the metal around me.

Finally, she steps forward and I hear the scrape of the heater as she pulls it from underneath me. The scorching heat abates, and I return to equilibrium. The box is lowered back to the ground and then, to my profound relief, she opens the door and I fall out  onto the floor, completely exhausted and racked by pain.

The torment is over - for now. But what evil will she concoct next?