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October 31, 1907 "I wrestle uselessly against the leather that binds my arms and legs. I am spread like a snow angel. The springs Sir has fastened to the tips of my bosoms sears me with erotic pain. My privates are exposed to the cool breeze that flows through the open panes, but does little to quench the smoldering at the apex of my womanhood. Only Sir can quell this longing. Sir has fastened me well and I can only lie in this repose to await his return. Will I never bear the fruit of his seed?"

It was these final words from the journal of Miss Rebecca Morris that intrigued us the most.

My wife Kay and I had purchased a large three story brick home that had been built around the turn of the twentieth century. The structure was solid, but in need of a lot of updating. We had spent a bundle of dollars and hours installing the conveniences of modern life. The first and second floors were complete and it became time to start on the third story. The third floor was all one large room and our plan was to make this our master bedroom/study. Presently the room was bare except for the newly laid carpet.

My next task was to put insulation in the crawl spaces between the walls and roof. All of the spaces had hinged panels that could easily be opened except for one. One of the panels had been nailed shut and had clearly been painted over several times. This particular panel was ...

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