The room was dimly lit as I was led in and told to lie down on the bed. Dark shadows, figures moving in and out of the half-light, strange items of equipment the use of which I could barely guess; trying to figure out their purpose sent a shiver down my spine. I’d find out soon enough. Restraints, ready in the event of a struggle. Quiet. Just the sound of my heart beat, the blood pulsing through my body. Fear rising, threatening to take a hold of me. I swallowed and tried to control my breathing, knowing there was no way out. I’d wanted this. I’d made my choice. Now all that was left was to submit to the inevitable.

From behind me strong arms held me down, pinning me to the bed. Firm, muscular arms, pressing my shoulders, keeping me still, showing me that to struggle would be futile.

And then I saw Him. He stepped from the shadow, silhouetted by a single bright light. His features were obscured by a heavy mask but His eyes spoke for him, telling me that He would enjoy this, that I was His plaything, that His will would prevail.

A click, a whirr, from somewhere in the distance the sounds of equipment coming to life. My fear was tangible, a cold, biting terror of the unknown. A screen came to life too far away for me to see clearly and I realised that He was going to record my ordeal. No doubt He did the same with all His victims, cataloguing their pain so He could watch their suffering over and over. What twisted mind stood before me? How had I come to this?

And then He spoke. His voice as dry as a corpse, menacing, commanding, the voice of a man in total control. “This will not be...” He searched for the word, selecting just the right phrase to prove His dominance and send another wave for dread through my shaking body. “This will not be...comfortable”. A satanic glint in His eye. The confidence of someone who knew what they were about to do.

“Is this your first time?” He asked, His voice so cold yet edged with the stain of anticipated pleasure. I nodded and He leaned closer, so I caught the foul stench of His breath. His eyes flicked to a nearby tray which carried an assortment of syringes, needles and a tourniquet. “I could give you something to make it easier...” He rasped, indicating the spread of drugs. His hand moved to the largest syringe, loaded with a thick, yellow liquid, some potent sedative no doubt, used to incapacitate His victims, keep them quiet so they didn’t scream. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam and He pushed the tray away. He finished His thought, “...But then you’d not remember. Let’s try it first without the drug.” I tried to pull away.

Behind me, another voice, this time from the one who was holding me down: “Don’t struggle. You’ll only make it worse for yourself...”

A gag was placed in my mouth, forcing my jaw open. Tears welled in my eyes and my vision blurred. But I kept still, trying to be strong, trying to force the fear back down to the pit of my stomach. The lights were turned down more, darkness now apart from the single point of brilliance, casting sharp white light which pierced the black, giving terrifying glimpses of the equipment He had laid out before Him -the tools of His sinister trade, items not out of place in a medieval torture chamber, the cold glint of metal in the harsh, painful light. Another wave of fear crashed over me, carrying me with it in a maelstrom of nightmarish panic. “Be still!” I tried to steady my breathing, concentrating on the rise and fall of my chest, blocking out my thoughts of the horror that awaited.

The hands still pressed my shoulders, imprisoning me as effectively as any rope or chain and yet more ominous when applied by another human being. He stood, for a moment blocking the light, His back turned to me, withdrawing something, revealing it slowly, almost worshiping it in its sleek elegance. As He turned back I saw that in His gloved hand He held His tool and my heart skipped a beat. The pounding in my ears grew louder as blood coursed through my body and He stood with His instrument of torture in His hand. It was so much longer than I had expected, thicker too, and He seemed to be stroking it, caressing its length, playing with it. “I’m going to put this inside you,” He said. “Are you ready?”

I had no choice. I had thought I wanted this. I thought it would give me answers. Now all I wanted was for this waking nightmare to be over. I was in too far, I was not ready for this!

He pressed closer now, His body touching mine, getting ready to penetrate me, to force me to submit to His fiendish will. I was drenched in sweat, the damp envelopment of pure terror as adrenalin rushed through my veins. He was so close now I could not focus and I felt strong hands grip my jaw. “You might gag,” He said, “when it touches the back of your throat. Everybody gags.” I could hear in His tone the pleasure He drew from my plight. I wished He would just get on with it, instead of teasing me, playing with me, heightening my fear and making all my senses fire with anticipation of what He was about to do to me.

And then it happened. I felt it enter me, filling my mouth, making it hard to breathe. So big! So much more than I had thought possible. I couldn’t take it, it was too much! I gagged, wanting it out of my mouth, tears rolling down my cheeks. From behind, a voice: “Try to relax. Don’t resist. Breathe.”

The man, now in absolute control of me, looked down and spoke in little more than a whisper. “You need to swallow.” His command was absolute. I had no choice as He thrust forward, pushing deeper and deeper inside me. I tried to gulp it down, taking it all, totally unable to defy his will.

I don’t know how long it lasted. Seconds seemed like minutes, time lost all meaning as I drifted beyond sense in that hell. I was aware of His movements as He pushed harder, pulled back, changing position, thrusting forward and then withdrawing slightly, a perpetual rhythm, in and out, in and out, exploring my very essence, laying bare my inner-most secrets, revealing me in the most intimate way.

And then, when He had reached full satisfaction, He withdrew completely, wiping His tool as He pulled it out. I could see in His eyes that He was spent, that the encounter was concluded.

The lights came on, blinding, disorientating, and I was released.

He removed his mask and smiled, knowing we had shared something that I would never forget. And He spoke once more, as I sat up and the truth of what had happened began to coalesce into reality. His words filled me with joy. “I could see no abnormalities in your upper digestive tract, nothing to worry about there at all. There is no sign of ulceration, it all looks fine.”

The doctor went on to say that there was still quite an amount of food in my stomach which after six hours of fasting would normally have gone, and suggested that I may just have a slow digestive system. This is probably caused by some of the medication I am taking but explains my nausea. A change of pills will probably help.

The burley nurse helped me to my feet and told me I had done extremely well, especially without sedation, and checked that I was alright. Half an hour later and we were home, having a cup of tea.

So, that was my gastroscopy – it’s fun, you should try one!