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Chapter 28 - Agonies Beyond Tears
In the cold darkness of the torture chamber, Kayleen croaked in despair as
pain surged from the thin barbed chain sawing through her slit. She had been
left on the cold floor, arms and legs clenched together by the irons whose
studs had been inseparable instruments of her torment for days. A studded
steel bar had been nudged between shoulders and arms, its left end linked by a
short chain to the right end of a similar bar stuck behind her ankles, and a
similar chain connected the other ends of both, forcing her to twist and bend
at the waist, exacerbating the chafing from the iron band clinching it.
With fiendish cruelty, clamps had been screwed on her nipples and fastened to
fine chains crossed behind her neck and reaching to a screw crushing her toes,
while a similar chain pulled a chain connecting her clitoris through the slit
to a screw crushing the thumbs. The usual drenching with cold, salt water had
been but the last straw of her misery, because her body was so crisscrossed by
burns and lacerations that she could rest on no part of it for long, twitching
and screaming as each movement renewed her torment. Her shivering, however,
was more from terror at the prospect of further torture than from cold.
Her thoughts whirled in fear as images of past torments loomed in the few
pauses her anguish encountered. She craved Lyral's touch desperately, even if
sometimes bitterly realizing that it would further her agonies, so badly that
she repeatedly imagined her friend's fingers barely touching her bleeding
lacerations before some stabbing agony crushed her fantasies. If only she
could be freed for an instant, she sobbed within as the studs in her wrists
bit the bruised flesh again. Maybe just having the serrated rings squeezing
her breasts removed, no longer chafing and biting the sore skin.
When her tormentors returned, however, she was instead treated to the sight of
the Southerner ingesting something, eloquently pointing to his manhood as a
desperate sob wracked her restrained form. Her mind shriveled and she almost
wished they wrapped her in spikes, rather than face rape at his hands.
Lyral's trembling touch was a sudden bliss, but it soothed her pain, not her
fears. She had forgotten about rape, she had hoped they would not use it
again. Mad with fear, she looked around, as if to call for more torture at
Grod's hands, or from the Easterner, anybody but him, shrieking in despair at
a circumstance she once would have tried to put to her advantage.
Laughing, the Southerner dragged her away by her twitching feet, up to a low
wooden platform. He clenched her arms together behind her back in the reverse
prayer position, cuffing the wrists at the base of the platform while her
elbows pressed against the top of the slope, forcing her to raise her loins to
reduce the pain in her twisted elbows. He cuffed her knees to loose chains and
then fastened chains to the screws crushing her toes, stretching her legs in a
savage split while pain shot from her still dislocated joints.
He used pliers to twist and stretch her partially healed nipples, tightening a
wire at the base while she howled in pain. Her voice echoed under the vaults
of the torture chamber again, as her tongue was returning to normal, but this
only made her shrieks more desperate when he did the same with her clitoris.
As she quivered in agony, a crack echoed and a long, bristled whip slashed her
squeezed breast, just under the nipple, making her jerk with a scream. More
lashes followed, aimed at her pinched nipples and clitoris, leaving angry
welts across the lacerations which Lyral had been allowed to heal only in
part. As more lashes seared her crotch, while blinding pain shot from her
clitoris as the blisters peeled it, frantic pleads rose to her lips, no longer
shameful as the terror of further pain swept anything else aside.
The whip lacerated her nipples, wrenching shrill screams from her torn mouth
as she loathed the thoughts crowding her mind when pain paused for an instant,
while the tortures that she knew would follow the whip loomed in her mind. She
would falter and crumble after pointlessly enduring the unendurable. The pain
of the bristles searing her labia would be nothing before what lied ahead.
The Southerner dropped the whip, grabbed her loins and penetrated her, pushing
with savage abandon while pain wracked her dislocated joints under his thrusts
and her voice vented her anguish and despair. Her mind twitched at what would
follow as pain from her dry innards burst in screams until his lust was spent.
Panting, he freed her from the platform, turned her on the belly and pulled up
her supple legs by her sides, almost purring as he felt them quiver from the
agony in her dislocated joints. With her left ankle at breast height, he
pulled her right arm until he could tighten a screw on her thumb and toe,
twisting wrist and ankle inside the studded cuffs while she cried desperately.
Her screams became ever more desperate when he set about doing the same with
her left arm and right leg, and reached blood-curling heights when he pulled
her off the floor by chains fastened to her wrist cuffs, fading into a gurgle
when he forced his manhood into her mouth, still torn by the spider gag.
Her gurgles increased when his gloved hands pinched a fold of stretched muscle
on her back, rubbed it with nettles and then stuck a thick green thorn in the
irritated flesh. Her tongue darted over his manhood as the pain of more thorns
flared across her back, each releasing an irritant which was the reason he was
plucking them green while garbled screams of wretched anguish wracked her.
He continued to savor her screams as humiliation and terror gained free reign
over her traumatized mind, bouncing her between the searing flames of pain
from another thorn being pushed in irritated flesh and the burning rash of the
irritant being released by those already in place. He finally came in her
mouth, almost choking her as she gurgled from yet another thorn being twisted
into a fold of twitching thigh flesh turned angry red by the nettles.
Still lingering in her mouth just because he could, he stretched to stick
thorns over the parts of her body he could reach while waiting for his
drug-induced arousal to return. Where the thorns stuck close to each other, he
started using a dried leather strap whose hard slap left swaths of skins
flaring in crimson agony, wrenching hoarse screams from her throat as if from
the depths of her very soul.
Her twitching buttocks slowly turned into angry red mounds, pinpointed by tiny
black speckles where thorns stuck deeply in the flesh and sap was squeezed
into the wounds by the repeated slaps as her screams returned to gurgling
around his aroused manhood and she was forced to take more of what was now
beyond her ability to endure. Unable to restrain her spasmodic screams, she
continued writhing as more thorns wrought unspeakable agonies through her
distended thigh muscles, enveloping his pulsating member with her desperate
shrieks of mad agony when the strap seared the rosette of her anus.
She lost count of how many times the drugs had allowed him to fill her mouth,
regurgitating foam and semen in a single scream once he pulled out as the
strap singed the sole of her left foot, jerking toe and thumb into spasmodic
agony in the grip of the thumbscrew. But his lust found a new target as he
violently penetrated her sphincter with his leather sheathed member while his
weight added to the agony of her suspension and of his savage grip on her
thighs, squeezing the thorns into her irritated flesh upon each brutal thrust.
Waves of unspeakable pain wracked her over and over, alternating the fire of
the leather strap with the repeated scraping of her bowels, worsened by using
the white powder he was so fond of to dry them up in the middle of each
screaming violation. After a while her sphincter was so torn and distended
that he had little trouble in sticking thorns inside, some deep down and some
just behind the torn rim. Subsequent violations scraped them inside, making
the irritated, dry walls swell and bringing the agony of the penetration on
par with the howls wracking her incessantly.
When she was brought down, Lyral was allowed only the briefest of contact, a
refined cruelty, but her humming carried words, words Kayleen wished she could
make sense of. Deprived of her friend's voice, not even questioned any longer,
rocked by waves of unquenched pain, her gaze happened on Zhorun's silent form,
always nearby, and the thought of how their fates were becoming similar
flashed through her mind as the Southerner changed her restraints.
Her tormentor screwed her breasts in a cruel vise and pulled her legs up until
he managed to twist the back of her knees under its steel arms, then clenched
elbows and wrists together tightly behind her back. As if her agony was not
enough already, he inserted a wooden pear in her bowels, screwing it open
among her insane cries until he could use it to hang her upside down, her
shoulders on the floor but her body wracked by the pain of the thorns behind
the rim of her sphincter pushed by the pear deep into her swollen bowels.
A meat hook was placed to stretch the cleft of her vagina, fastened to her
wrists by a chain pulled savagely short, and another two tore it open at the
folds of her labia, pulled by chains wound behind her waist to her ankles so
whenever she tried to bend her legs her vagina would be torn open.
As her shoulders left the floor her screams rose in unbridled agony, until she
reached a height where he could thrust his member into her mouth and have his
brutal pleasure again, pushing forcefully while her mind was stunned by her
own garbled screams echoing inside the head rocked by his wretched lust. True
to himself, he lingered inside after she gurgled his semen in pitiful agony.
With panting abandon, he started pinching folds of flesh to be rubbed with
nettles and pierced with thorns, savoring every shudder and scream which
licked his manhood. Conversely,she had to endure his urges as her screams
gurgled around his member, his lust as he pushed thorns between her toes and
into the partially healed nail beds, and his triumph as her howls fanned his
arousal again, unable to resist the onslaught of pain.
His hands lingered on the trembling muscles of her inner thighs, stroking them
over and over with the stinging nettles before sticking the thick thorns where
the flesh was taut, while her jerks and twitches almost made thrusting into
her mouth unnecessary. Each thorn pushed in her taut belly was like a glass of
fine wine, each shudder under the nettles a kiss of dark lust, each muffled
scream as his hands squeezed irritated flesh music to his ears.
He reached for her squeezed breasts, and arched when the caress of the nettles
over the firm flesh wrenched a delicious, protracted scream from her torn
throat and sent her tongue pleasuring his engorged manhood in spasmodic agony.
Each thorn thereafter brought new heights of pleasure as she stiffened and
gurgled pitifully in excruciating pain. The soft undersides, the areolas
deliciously rubbed with stinging nettles until they turned crimson against the
dark red of the peeled nipples, any part of her mounds writhed as he stuck
thorns with his thumbs and her misery grew beyond bounds.
Sustained by lust as much as by drugs, he rubbed fresh nettles against the rim
of her stretched vagina, watching it turn deep red while her mouth fought the
semen and foam choking her between screams she barely had breath enough for.
He was too close for the strap, but protracted use of the nettles allowed the
drugs time to act. His heart pounded as her screams were stifled and he pushed
a thorn in her swollen crimson labia, missing a beat when she stiffened and
arched in demented agony, screaming her anguish on his aroused manhood.
Thorn after thorn decorated the canvas of her agony, reaching deep inside her
womb to drive thorns as far as he could reach while the strength restored by
Lyral's healing was consumed in the bonfire of her torment. He studiously
rubbed the nettles inside the partially healed lacerations still straddling
her mound, circling around her femininity and occasionally draping the nettles
in anticipation around the peeled nub of flesh, black from engorged blood.
He protracted her anguished pleasuring of his member, sticking thorns where
her pubic hair used to be, under the folds of her clitoris and just behind the
stretched rim of her vagina, occasionally returning to her squeezed breasts
but otherwise concentrating on dragging her softest feminine flesh through
depths of agony beyond human endurance. The fresh sap burned like the fires of
hell and merely kneading flesh made her arch and buckle between muffled howls,
while her swollen innards burned as more thorns pierced them.
He finally pulled out from her mouth, lowering her on the floor again before
dragging her to where Lyral sat trembling. Kayleen tried to overcome her
craving for Lyral's touch enough to understand the words behind her friend's
desperate humming, but pain was her sole master now and she failed.
Her tormentor soon yanked her away, bringing her to lie on her back between
two chains which he fastened to her ankles, lifting them about a foot above
the floor and pulling them in an excruciating suspended split, wrenching a
new, hoarse scream from her torn mouth. He then grabbed her arms, cuffed the
elbows and wrists together and twisted them up, savagely tearing them from
their dislocated sockets again. As he continued to pull she was forced to bend
at the waist, rotating her thigh bones in their sockets with a long scream
from the deepest pits of anguish as her wrists were pulled up behind her and
her weight rested on her twisted, dislocated joints.
The chain fastened to her wrists was actually connected to a pulley, and he
pulled the other end down until he managed to fasten it to the vise still
constricting her breasts, tightening it and releasing the pulley so that her
torso oscillated between tearing her arms out of their sockets and stretching
her thorn studded breasts away from her chest. She screamed in pain and
terror, trembling as she expected the nubs of feminine flesh which had so far
escaped his attention to be targeted as usual.
With renewed lust, he grabbed the edges of her sphincter with his thumbs and
tore at the muscle, pulling her loins up to impale her vagina on his leather
sheathed member and jarring her shoulder joints while the vise squeezed her
sore breasts. Unspeakable pain scraped her womb as the dry leather squeezed
the thorns deeper into the irritated flesh, so swollen that each thrust
abraded it even before he started smearing the leather with sand, bringing her
screams to a spasmodic peak of wretched atrocity.
After his drug induced lust was sated, he started using the strap on her
breasts and crotch, each slap making her buckle and jerk in her suspension as
the stinging pain coupled with the fiery agony of the thorns renewed the
uninterrupted torment of her joints. The thought that this most sadistic of
her tormentors was obviously learning from the other two rattled her mind as
pitched shrieks surged from her mouth when the strap landed on her taut
breasts, leaving a swath of crimson agony while she howled helplessly.
Rekindled by her agonies, his manhood penetrated her again, scraping the
thorns through her irritated innards just as his brutal thrusts pushed those
in her mound deeper, squeezing more burning sap into her swollen flesh while
the dry leather tore bloody swaths of tissue from her violated love channel.
Each push crushed her clitoris, still constricted by the wire at the base and
peeled from the whipping, and the stabbing agony reminded her that there was
still something worse he could do to her.
After repeatedly violating her, he moved to her left foot, tightened a screw
on her toe until it cracked and then pulled it with a chain, forcing her foot
to twist backwards, imparting the same rotation to her stretched leg and
pulling until the head of her thigh was rotated out of its socket while she
stiffened and arched in a helpless scream of primal torment which was soon
repeated as the same fate was visited on her other toe.
Having rekindled the agony of her joints almost to the point of ripping her
legs off, he helped his flaccid manhood into her torn vagina. Grinning, he
stretched her left nipple and rubbed it thoroughly with stinging nettles,
taking his time so that her spasmodic twitches and desperate screams would
massage his member into renewed arousal. Alternating between left and right
nipple, he satisfied himself that they were an angry crimson before sticking
small thorns through them and crushing them savagely, smelling her sweat and
terror as pain coursed through her flesh and her screams rattled her chains.
While his arousal returned, he similarly rubbed her clitoris into fiery agony
before piercing it with tiny thorns, timing each so that her screams took on
the rhythm of his throbbing pleasure in spite of the cramped space his fingers
had to negotiate. Between flashes of atrocious pain, she realized that he was
making her pleasure him like a whore, rubbing and clutching his manhood while
the leather abraded her insides and the thorns turned inside her wounds, and
sank in self loathing at her inability to do anything but writhe and scream.
He grabbed her nipples and stretched them, pulling her body arching up in
howling pain and then yanking it down, crushing the thorns in her clitoris as
his member impaled her womb and a grueling scream wracked her twitching body.
She jerked like a rag doll when he pulled up and down again, howling as thorns
cut from behind the ripped rim of her vagina, and her jerks and screams
continued until his pleasure and her humiliation were complete.
As he fetched the strap, she hung sobbing at the prospect of a string of
horrid violations such as the one she had just endured. The dry leather left
a crimson mark across her bespeckled mound as pain overwhelmed her thoughts
and nothing else remained. When the agony from the strap paused, she tried to
plead mercy, loathing her weakness but unable to endure more.
Ignoring her garbled words, the Southerner pinched her nipples and penetrated
her stretched vagina again, crushing her burning mound with savage abandon.
Only after more harrowing passes at the torn orifice, interspersed with
increasingly savage applications of the strap all over her striped body, did
his savage lust fade as the effect of the drugs waned.
He did not object as the Easterner stepped in and lowered the delirious
Kayleen on the floor where she lay, still restrained, trembling and craving
Lyral's soothing touch. But to the experienced eyes of her tormentor she was
not in immediate danger, and he set about preparing her for further suffering.
She was placed on her back, with her arms nudged under knees and cuffed
together at the wrist. He then started pulling them up between her legs and
towards her chest, twisting her left wrist so that a thumbscrew could crush
her thumbs. Her ankles were then cuffed together and she was made to stand on
the balls of her feet while another screw was tightened on her toes. A chain
from the ceiling was then fastened to her thumbs and used to pull them up, and
a steel pillory with three holes was used to lock the wrists to her neck.
Once they left her in the dark, visions of harrowing torment descended upon
her as the constricted position she hung in squeezed the thorns still piercing
her flesh and rubbed together swaths of skin irritated by the nettles. The
ache in her joints turned to agony since her own weight, through the thighs,
pulled her arms out of their sockets, the strain inescapable as she rocked on
the balls of her feet and had her thumbs crushed back and forth.
This simple and excruciating torment was but another step, she realized, the
harbinger of further unimaginably refined tortures at the hands of the
Easterner. His torments were maybe less obsessed with her femininity than
others, but no less harrowing. The pauses were meant to plunge her into
terror, keeping her waiting in the dark while the pain of her predicament
hinted at the tortures looming ahead. It worked, she sobbed within.
When her tormentors returned, she was shuddering and sobbing, but in spite of
her obvious inability to do any harm the Easterner made sure her collar
crushed her windpipe before undoing her restraints. He cuffed one ankle to a
chain from the ceiling and the other to a ring in the floor, then pulled her
up until she hung in a vertical split, already screaming because of the
traction on her dislocated hip joints. Her screams increased when he pulled
her right wrist high up against the left ankle, and the left wrist down to the
right ankle, forcing her to bend and twist her hips amidst a frenzy of pitiful
shrieks or have her arms torn off their sockets.
Her nostrils flared as a pungent smell reached them. He was mixing something
in a bowl, and there were a few lying about. He picked up some and dribbled
it in two bespeckled wounds while muscles of her quivering body cound not stop
twitching. She jerked frantically, screaming in demented pain as the lye
burned inside the wounds, partially diluted but still concentrated enough to
sizzle as it slowly seeped in the wound and contacted blood.
Her screams continued unabated as the burning nightmare seared the wounds,
never receding and biting remorselessly inside the flesh while she wracked
her joints through hellish agonies as the pain made her jerk and buckle
spasmodically. Already beyond herself, she could not withstand the onslaught
of relentless agony wracking her back. Her mind spun unhinged as the pain
unrelentingly scourged her wounded flesh, showing no sign of receding as time
passed and more blood reached the festering wound.
When the pain finally subsided, she continued twitching and buckling from the
residues of the white hot anguish still lingering in her panicked mind, to the
point of failing to notice that her tormentor was tipping tiny flakes of white
powder on her stretched leg. She notice when the flakes started fuming as they
contacted the sweat glistening on her strong body and renewed pain wracked her
as the skin still itching from the savage rubbing with the stinging nettles
was enveloped in a cloud of burning agony.
The powder was not actually burning, but it gave off heat which seared the
irritated skin and peeled it off with excruciating slowness, protracting her
anguish through frenzies of spasmodic jerking which left her breathless from
too much screaming but with cause for screaming more, making her voice rise
and fall as her jerks rattled her chains and wracked her joints.
When this second nightmare ran its course, more drops were dipped in a pair of
wounds in her back and her voice echoed again under the vaults of the torture
chamber in mindless fits of hoarse screaming. She was allowed some pause when
the jug was brought to her mouth, but the powder followed immediately and her
tormentor continued alternating powder and liquid while she screamed herself
hoarse from the unrelenting torment.
This was worse than her worst fears, an uninterrupted nightmare of hellish
agony like burning in sizzling oil, protracted without pause for minutes and
beyond minutes, with flesh and skin sending desperate twitches of horrid pain
wracking her nerves into spasmodic buckling while her position made even minor
movements a torment for the strained joints. She could not have endured it
even if lasted a tenth of what it lasted, and the pain kept mounting and never
receded. She wished to scream for mercy, she wished to beg and grovel, but all
she could do was scream in delirious agony, lost in a maze of burning pain.
Her tormentor continued with drops of liquid in the wounds of her back and
limbs, while handfuls of flakes seared her in places where the liquid had not
been applied yet. The liquid was more painful in wounds irritated by the heat,
it seemed, although her screams made it hard to tell the difference.
Even when she was made to sip from the jug, she was so wracked by pain that
she failed to articulate her misery and continued helplessly to suffer,
shrieking pitifully as drops were poured one by one in the wounds in her toe
and finger nail beds and twitching spasmodically when flakes stuck to the sides
of her hanging breasts, slowly making the reddened skin parched and cracked as
the lingering heat ate at it relentlessly.
When he released her from her restraints, she was delirious with pain and not
even drenching her in cold, salt water made her stop screaming. She gurgled as
the jug was brought to her mouth, and the only change was the creeping note of
terror in her screams as he pulled her arms between her legs, making her bend
at the waist and cuffing each ankle to the corresponding wrist and each elbow
to the corresponding knee, snapping the forearm to the shin and then using two
meat hooks to stretch her vagina and lift her from the floor.
Heavy lead weights were then fastened to screws crushing her thumbs, pulling
them down and twisting her thighs in an increasingly painful split, which she
tried to contain by force of muscle. But while her arms tensed in the effort
to hold the weights, her tormentor dipped a few drops in a wound in her left
breast and the flames of hell started eating at its flesh, sending her in a
frenzy of twitching and howling while her thighs spread with a snap and tears
appeared in the rim of her vagina where it rested on the hooks.
As flakes were slowly scattered over her stretched thighs, her howls rose in
pitch as she spread them in spasmodic agony, squirming and buckling on the
meat hooks while pain rattled her joints and the weights pulled inexorably on
her crushed, bleeding thumbs. Her face contorted into a mask of hellish
torments when more drops descended on wounds in her other breast, three of
them this time as if her agonies were not severe enough.
The liquid seeped lazily at first, apparently eating away at the thorn stuck
in the wound more readily than at the flesh, but it actually burned slowly
through the outer layer of skin and the encrusted blood in the wound until it
touched fresh blood. As soon as it did, it heated and sizzled, slowly
consuming itself in a nightmare of protracted anguish as tiny amounts of
substance slowly seeped into contact with blood, protracting the torment for
unendurable lengths of frenzied screaming and spasmodic twitching.
Another drop fell on a thorn stuck in her labia, while flakes covered her
breast which soon shimmered as the substance slowly heated its skin, parching
and cracking it while the tendons of her throat almost snapped as she arched in
blood-curling screams of inhuman anguish. Two or three drops at the same time
were the limit of her endurance, anything beyond sent her in screaming hells
where the mind was buffeted by gales of white hot, blinding agony.
With meticulous deliberation, her tormentor started increasing the drops being
poured on the thorn wounds in her breasts, gauging intently her reactions from
the mask of inhuman agony straining the muscles of her face, since her voice
was so taxed that the most wretched screams came as hissing wheezes.
The soft skin of her thighs, still bright red from the protracted rubbing with
nettles, slowly fumed and parched while wrinkles and sores opened where the
dry tissue tore under the strain of her spasmodic flailing. The heads of the
thigh bone bulged under the stretched muscles as inch by inch the weights
pulled her thighs out of their sockets.
Only when she was lowered on the floor did Kayleen recover from the onslaught
enough to finally pay attention to Lyral's muffled calls. Her friend was only
allowed to heal her briefly, but somehow this contact almost managed to carry
some consolation. Kayleen thought she could understand her friend's words,
maybe because they sounded like words formerly her own, words of courage and
resolve, hope in the face of evil incarnate.
But these words were put to the test as Kayleen's tormentor slightly altered
her restraints, fastening each elbow behind the knee and twisting the forearm
before cuffing the wrist to the corresponding ankle. While the studded iron
bands at the knees and above the elbows could slide around the limb, albeit at
the price of pain from the studded insides, the cuffs encased the flat sides of
wrists and ankles very tightly, pressing ankle and wrist bone to bone.
Her fear that stressful confinement was not enough for the sessions taking
place under Zhorun's eye was immediately confirmed when clamps bit her nipples
and clitoris and she was slowly lifted off the floor, her wheezes barely
audible as her jerks rattled the chains, but plainly visible on her contorted
face. Twin lead weights were fastened to her elbows, pulling her knees in a
harrowing split which her arms could not fight against while she arched in a
howl of excruciating woe, her hanging face streaked by drool.
Flakes were copiously strewn across her exposed crotch, and as smoke started
to form, drops of liquid dipped inside the clamps to bathe her stretched and
constricted nipples. Her strained voice rose in a frenzy of harsh screams
which echoed under the vaults as she jerked madly, in spite of the pain
inflicted on the nubs she hung from, unable to resist the onslaught of the
caustic as it burned through her stretched nipples.
As more drops landed on the sores where the hideous thorns still hurt the
flesh, her agonies increased beyond what her wheezing voice could vent and her
terrified mind could sustain. The horizon of her teary gaze narrowed to the
stretched, fuming nubs of feminine flesh straining under her weight and being
ripped bit by bit as she jerked them in her anguished twitching.
She knew they would tear beyond repair and wash her pain in waves of blood, and
when flakes were strewn on her distended breasts, in a flash she entertained
the thought of ripping them off herself to get at least an instant of respite.
Her screams gathered new strength as her breasts started parching, such that
some lingering flakes seemed to roll away from her pitched shrieks, and lasted
while the torment continued unabated in a nightmare apparently without end.
More drops were dipped here and there, landing with cruel precision in the
irritated wounds where a thorn still festered, and those in her mound wrought
new heights of searing agony inside her wounded flesh and tore the worst
screams from her burning lungs. She tried repeatedly to beg for mercy, to plead
for a pause, but her voice was so broken that only the most atrocious torments
could fan it to rage through her lungs and throat out of her foaming mouth.
And most atrocious became her agonies when flakes were strewn across her
mauled femininity, over the spread labia and around the rim of her vagina.
The skin folded and wrinkled, and her twitching jerks rattled her stretched
nubs near tearing several times. The fiendish construction of the clamps
spread the pressure and protracted the pain. Also, as she immediately found
out when drops were poured on the clitoris, it included paths through which
the caustic could drip and reach the places where traction tore the flesh.
With the help of tweezers he dripped some caustic on thorns lodged in her
sphincter, timing them so that they dropped when a frenzy of screaming howls
left her breathless and spent, denying her even the respite of exhaustion. The
hunt for wounds to bathe in caustic continued with agonizing slowness while
she reeled in a nightmare of screams, crossing new howling boundaries of agony
as drops consumed thorns piercing her labia and mound.
However clever their design, the clamps could not hold her weight forever as
the flesh they gripped was slowly consumed by repeated applications of the
caustic, and her tormentor kept her screaming in excruciating torment to the
very brink of the endurance of her feminine nubs before stopping.
She found herself cuddled by Lyral's arms, her friend's best attempt at giving
her some support against the unbearable. When she was yanked away, her words
did not make it into sound, her voice lost except from the most horrid
agonies. Lyral was still trying to tell her something Kayleen knew already,
because the truth was that she was too cowardly to stand any more of this.
Her arms and legs were clenched together and she was forced to bend at the
waist, encased in a vise built of a bar nudged behind her knees and another
behind her arms, which got brutally tightened until her ribs creaked audibly
while she cried from the constriction of her mauled breasts. Her arms were
pulled up behind her back, forcing her to bend down and stand on the balls of
her feet while a screw was tightened on the toes. The chain from her wrists
was wound over a pulley and fastened to a thick meat hook invading her rectum.
After copiously drenching her with cold, salt water the Easterner left with
Zhorun, purportedly leaving her alone with her screams in the unlit chamber.
Still trembling in agony, she screamed in the dark when a harsh sob made her
lean forward, jarring her dislocated shoulder joints and making her legs
quiver as her crushed toes shifted in the grip of the vise. In the effort to
spare her shoulder she tried to pull back, but the agony of her weight on the
hook scraping her abraded insides proved unbearable.
Shivering, she kept shifting helplessly back and forth, trying to lessen the
pain which surged from her toes each time. The heavy irons tightened on the
ankles and wrists were no longer enough, the chafing of the studded iron bands
at the knees and elbows caused too little pain, she cried, why did they have
to use the thumbscrews ... she was crushed already.
Each breath reminded her of the dented band around the waist and wrought new
pain from her breasts, whose lacerations rubbed painfully against the equally
lacerated skin of her thighs. The pain of the serrated rings constricting the
base of her breasts felt like the grip of rabid hands, bringing images of the
horrid rapes she would face if the Southerner was next.
When Grod entered, dragging Lyral on her knees, Kayleen felt almost relieved,
although a jab of pain in her shoulder joints immediately reminded her what
would happen next. Lyral was brought forth to heal her, and again Kayleen
could almost feel within herself her friend's affection, if not her muffled
words, a warm, soothing sense of being there. The cold hand of fear gripped
Kayleen's throat when the realization that after obtaining what he wanted
Zhorun would have no use for the young Priestess returned to her clouded mind.
After Lyral was yanked away, Kayleen tried to speak, her voice barely audible
after countless hours of screaming, but Zhorun gestured to Grod that the
torture was to be continued. He fetched a heavy iron vise and secured her
breasts in its grip, then forced her arms against the ribcage, fastened the
elbows to the dented band around her waist and pulled her wrists down to the
ankles, folding the legs in spite of any attempts to resist. Her restraints
would have been enough to bring her to tears if she had any left, but chains
were fastened to the breast vise and she was lifted off the floor screaming.
The agony of her suspension mounted quickly as the squeezed globes bulged in
the grip of the vise, made worse by her arms pressing it whenever she jerked
from pain. Her eyes, however, told her that more was to come. He was setting
up a trestle, ending in a four-sided sharp pyramid not unlike the cradle she
had already suffered on. This one was of iron and being heated by coals.
The first drop almost came as a surprise to her, and when the red hot tip
lacerated her sphincter and the barbs scorched shallow gashes along its rim
she almost refused to acknowledge them. Then her voice rose, riding on top of
agonies so atrocious that mere screams hardly rendered them justice. Lyral
started, recognizing in her friend's screams her own name.
Grod left Kayleen screaming and twitching on the red hot barbed pyramid for a
while, then pulled her up and immediately dropped her again, wrenching from
her another scream which echoed as if uttered from the deepest pit of hell
while Lyral's head sank between sobs. After leaving Kayleen on the tip for a
while, howling like a demented animal, he lifted her and dropped her again.
Each time he lifted her a little higher, making the impact more jarring and
ripping the tears in the bleeding sphincter a little wider. As the heat singed
the lacerated skin, it enhanced its sensitivity so that subsequent cuts from
the barbs exacted agonies more excruciating than they would on their own.
The torture continued, each time leaving her to scream on the pyramid a bit
longer, except for the occasional pause to let her sip from the jug. Blood
streaked the inside of her thighs in rivulets hailing from the distended
orifice, torn by horrid gashes radiating around its lacerated rim. Now each
drop was followed by a slow descent against the red hot iron barbs, punctuated
by spasmodic jerks and bloodcurdling howls of wretched woe.
Heavy lead weights were hung to the bands around her knees, so that subsequent
drops would jar her dislocated thighs while her bowels were ravaged by the
hellish pyramid. The weights pulled her further down each time, making her
slide on the girth of the pyramid and making its four edges saw corresponding
gashes in the shredded orifice, wider and wider, abrading scorched flesh to
expose the twitching underneath to more agony.
Her voice was fanned to howls of unspeakable torment, pitched when she was
pulled up and her crimson breasts were squeezed in the vise and hoarse when
she writhed on the pyramid whose barbs cut through singed skin and scorched
the many bleeding lacerations while foam bubbled from her mouth and waves of
anguish wracked her contorted face. The memory of Lyral's warmth faded in the
waves of unendurable torment, and the thought of her fate receded among the
horrid agonies assaulting her without respite.
As yet another drop momentarily lessened the torment from her bulging breasts,
she felt the corners of the pyramid tear bits of flesh from her innards and
the barbs rake her scorched rectum while pain mounted from her bowels and sent
her head arching in a wheezing scream. Wracked by spasms rising from her
bowels, the only thing which kept her from pleading defeat was her voice.
She found some of her voice in Lyral's arms, screaming and sobbing as her
power healed her barely fast enough to save her from bleeding to death from
the lacerated cuts shredding her bowels. She tried to speak to her friend.
"Forgive me, Lyral. I cannot take any more. I'll tell them", she wheezed.
Lyral's answer was a tremor, and Kayleen felt her friend's warm tears on her
cheeks, their burn in the scratches left by the spider gag a drop in the waves
of pain wracking her mind and yet burning through her soul unlike the most
horrid wounds. She wished the Warrior Queen was still with her, ready to spit
her defiance in the face of her tormentors, she sought the resolve to keep
her friend safe from harm, but the truth was that she no longer had any.
Grod yanked her away and cuffed her elbows and wrists behind her back,
twisting her arms up behind her to a chain from the ceiling, then fastened two
chains to the arms of the vise still squeezing her breasts, now bluish globes
of throbbing agony, and fastened it to a six foot steel bar under her back. He
then pulled her ankles up and cuffed them to the ends of the bar, spreading
them in a harrowing split which she could lessen by pulling on her breasts.
A long teetering howl of desperate agony wracked her when he pulled her off
the floor, rekindling the agonies of dislocation in her shoulder and hip
joints while her breasts became orbs of liquid fire again. She was so wracked
by choking screams that the trestle being prepared under her crotch did not
catch her gaze until he suddenly dropped her on its upturned tip.
As the iron pyramid violently distended the rim of her vagina, her gaping
mouth contorted in a scream too spasmodic for her burning lungs, and let out a
choked shriek which made her friend buckle in her chains as if stabbed. Fits
of bloody coughing shook her head as she was lifted away screaming from the
hot iron tip.
Her next scream was worse, and the third gut-wrenching enough to tear plaster
from the walls of the torture chamber. This pyramid had but three sides, set
with nasty upturned barbs red hot from the coals inside, and its girth was
meant to lacerate her love channel from the very beginning. After several
drops, blood flowed inside her thighs from the cuts torn in the rim of her
vagina, stretched and seared by the unyielding iron edges.
She was drenched in cold, salt water while squirming on the red hot tip,
howling while a cruelly placed barb was searing a laceration in the middle of
the stretched rim, crimson from the repeated searing and tearing. Her mouth
snapped open in a demented howl which drenched the noise of ripping flesh as
the red hot barb rose with excruciating slowness through the stretched flesh
while she slid down screaming in abysmal pain.
Like before, after each drop he left her to squirm on the heated pyramid for a
little longer, singing her distended innards with excruciating slowness while
the barbs, much hotter, stirred bleeding gashes in her innards after catching
the lacerations in the rim of her vagina or cutting new ones. The girth of the
device ripped open the cuts as she slid down, screaming and jerking in such
spasmodic frenzies of howling agony that her legs pulled on the bar behind her
back with such force that it bent, its pull disfiguring her torn breasts.
Unlike before, the girth of the pyramid increased slowly but steadily and the
deeper she slid, the more atrocious the pain from the ripping of her orifice
became. At some point, he hung lead weights to her labia, stretching them near
tearing and raking them on the sides of the pyramid while she writhed in
howling torment after being dropped yet again. Of the three edges of the
pyramid, one pressed on the bottom cleft of her orifice, abrading it inch by
inch on each drop with serrated, red hot teeth, while the other two distended
the rim of her vagina, dragging it against the red hot barbs.
The atrocity of the torment rose higher the longer she was kept writhing on
the heated pyramid, and the pain in her dislocated joints matched it each time
she was dropped on the hellish device. Her head shook uncontrollably, and her
screams burst through bloody foam as wheezing shrieks, unable to carry the
words of defeat and pleading raging in her mind. She could not withstand such
agonies, she said to herself, she would scream her defeat for all to hear.
Her tormentor pulled her up again after letting her sip from the jug, and
lowered from the ceiling chains ending in wicked meat hooks. When he drove the
first under her left breast, blood squirted profusely from the engorged globe
while her neck strained as she arched in a hollow scream of abysmal torment.
Her other breast took longer, as she madly trashed in her restraints to avoid
the same fate, jarring her joints amidst frantic screams of boundless terror.
The chains hung somewhat loose while waves of bitter pain wracked her hanging
body, and he lowered three more, ending in thick crooked hooks whose flat head
was not meant to pierce. One was stuck in the lower cleft of her vagina, and
the other two deformed it into a gaping triangle whose edges stretched and
tore as she buckled, howling in helpless agony.
Her teary eyes bulged when she saw him brandish a pair of pincers, large and
heated red, and her mouth tried frantically to plead for mercy before he slid
them up her love channel, one jaw inside and the other outside until he could
close the points on her pubic bone. An ear-splitting scream of inhuman agony
wracked her suspended form as the iron jaws seared her flesh and pressed the
pubic bone, twisting and crushing until it cracked.
She was drenched in cold, salt water again, and then the pincers cracked her
pubic bone again while mindless screams of wretched woe shook her ribcage and
blood from her pierced breasts splattered her hanging form. The pincers bit
several times, each time the smell of burnt flesh announced the upcoming flash
of white hot pain and fanned her voice beyond the boundaries of endurance for
a scream which rivaled the worst uttered in her descent into this hell.
She hung screaming in demented pain, her mind reeling and shriveling under the
assault of agonies too terrible to endure and yet unable to cross into
oblivion, and her eyes caught her tormentor's movement only too late. She was
dropped on the upturned pyramid, but this time her weight pulled the hooks
through her breast flesh while her broken pubic bone crashed on the dull tip
of the pyramid just as its girth renewed the searing and raking of her womb.
Droplets of blood splattered her face as they squirted from her breasts while
a spasmodic scream rattled her form and the pyramid bulged behind her broken
pelvis, Heinous screams of demented agony wracked her buckling form as she
twitched on the searing device, grinding her cracked pubic bone on its tip and
bleeding from the tears ripped at the corners of her vagina.
When he lifted her from the horrendous instrument of her agony, his gaze
caught her eyes and locked into them, asking a question she desperately wished
to be asked. She could not stand more pain, she would fail her friend and her
people, condemn everybody to slavery under Zhorun's rule and Lyral to a fate
worse than death. Her bravery and resolve had been in vain. Her lips tried to
croak the words that would seal her defeat, but only moans came.
He lifted her up and dropped her again, turning those moans into another howl
of unspeakable woe and let her buckle in a frenzy of screaming torment on the
red hot iron pyramid before lifting her and seeking her gaze. The hooks had
torn a bleeding, inch long gash in her breasts, and blood spurted from her
mouth with each scream. Words of pleading and defeat crowded in her mind, but
her mouth only twitched meaninglessly and after watching her shudder in agony
for a while, he dropped her again.
The hooks had torn her vagina beyond recognition, ripping the cuts seared by
the red hot barbs into bleeding gashes through scorched flesh, and the dull
tip of the pyramid had repeatedly broken her cracked public bone and sent
white slivers of bone stained in blood jutting out of her lacerated mound. Her
screams still managed to echo under the vaults of the torture chamber whenever
she crashed on the dull tip, but the uninterrupted agonies wracking her before
and after by now could only be read on her contorted face. Against this
pitiful wheezing, Lyral's humming behind her gag could be heard again, as if
it could carry something to her suffering friend.
The torture was repeated mercilessly, dropping her on the iron device from
increasing heights and protracting her writhing on the red hot barbs after
each drop, but her mouth only twitched and babbled between screams of inhuman
torment, her last ditch against despair and defeat. Zhorun insisted that the
torture be continued even when it became plain that it was pointless, but
finally allowed Grod to lower her on the floor and let Lyral heal her.
The soothing warmth from Lyral's sobbing embrace was soon interrupted, even
earlier than usual, and Kayleen's spinning mind almost welcomed the thought
that they would let her die. Her breasts no longer bled, and the worst cuts
in her vagina had receded, but the pain from her broken pubic bone still
radiated through her like a furnace.
Her tormentor brought her to a wooden rail and made her straddle it, pulling
her thighs open and hanging lead weights to her knees while cuffing her arms
behind her back in reversed prayer position and running fine chains from a
screw crushing her thumbs to clamps on her nipples. When they left, after
drenching her thoroughly in cold, salt water, the agony of the rail pressing
against her broken pubic bone was already wrenching bitter screams from her.
In the dark, her woe increased steadily. At first she could not help but
twitch in search of a less painful position, but bending at the waist just
increased the pressure on the broken pubic bone and the spread thighs did not
allow her to roll off the rail. The clamps on her nipples had rekindled the
pain from her previous tortures and each breath stretched them so slightly,
just enough to make her gasp and cry. The rail was soon stained in blood.
Much to Zhorun's secret pleasure, her screams slowly mounted as much as her
voice allowed, because the dented wood of the rail pressed against the cracked
pubic bone, sending excruciating agonies through her arching body which got
worse at the least attempt to shift her position. Crack by crack, her weight
and jerks fractured the bone amidst her desperate screams, and the unrelenting
pull of the weights pressed the splinters deep into the wounded flesh,
wreaking inhuman torments through her stretched crotch.
When the chamber was lit again, the Southerner was holding the torch, and
Kayleen's eyes clenched in despair when she recognized him. She was already
suffering agonies beyond the unspeakable horrors wrought on her for days, and
now she would be in the hands of the most sadistic of her three tormentors.
Maybe he would spare me if I took his manhood in my mouth, he would not hurt
me too much then, I would keep him busy, she thought.
Her lips twitched as words of humiliated defeat rolled on her mouth, their
taste bitter as ash as she loathed her weakness, but at least the pain would
stop. He could not hurt me so much again if I keep him pleasured, she mused,
just as white hot pain flashed from her broken pubic bone. But only garbled
noises sputtered from her foaming mouth.
The gnarly old man smiled, and with a flourish produced a tray where yellowish
bone tools gleamed. Scissors and pincers, she gawked as her clear blue eyes
explored the jagged edges and dull dents, meant to lacerate while being ground
forcibly through flesh rather than cut neatly. He circled her trembling form,
letting his gaze travel over her mauled body, then grabbed her wrists and
pushed her face down on the rail, wrenching from her a scream of pain as this
pressed her broken bone on the rail and stretched her nipples near tearing.
Keeping her down with one hand, he pulled out his manhood, sheathed it in
thick leather and thrust into her rectum, cackling at her desperate screams
and savoring her writhing as unspeakable agonies surged from her broken
pelvis. The thought of how could he find in the depths of his depravity a lust
younger men would covet sailed through her mind between waves of bitter pain.
Once sated, he finally freed her from the rail, letting her curl on the floor
wracked by tearless sobs and babbling incoherently. Lyral neared and touched
her friend, but the Southerner only allowed a brief contact before dragging
Kayleen away. He twisted her arms behind the back and pulled them up, forcing
her to bend crying while he cuffed them to a post.
He then proceeded to pull her ankles off the floor and fasten them to chains
hanging from the ceiling, leaving her suspended in mid air with her belly
hanging above the floor, screaming from the torment wracking her dislocated
joints. She started in surprise when he introduced a thick meat hook in her
vagina and pulled her loins down, making her arch further with a teetering
howl as the hook pulled down against the splintered pubic bone.
Kayleen hung in mindless agony, her breath broken by hoarse screams, her mind
spinning as images of hellish torture chased it between rolling waves of fear
and her ravaged body screamed at her relentlessly. They would not allow her to
die, they would not allow her to beg, she wished for a moment of respite to
the point of welcoming a sip from the jug just as she realized what it meant.
A stream of hot vinegar splashed on her buttock, catching her by surprise for
a split second before making her arch in a scream of raw terror as the heat
singed her lacerated and broiled flesh. She continued twitching and rattling
both joints and bone into frenzies of savage pain, but just as the thought
that it could not get worse the old man closed the scissors on her ass cheek.
Unbearable agony surged from her torn mouth as she stiffened and jerked in a
frenzy of terrified howling while the scissors gnawed a grisly laceration
through her seared skin and blood squirted from the gash cut by the dull jaws
rending skin and flesh by force applied rather than by keen edge. While she
still screamed, he poured hot vinegar on her other buttock and then savaged it
also, lingering with the scissors in the wound and resuming the gnawing each
time her screams waned in exhaustion.
The only trace of the former restraint her tormentors observed in wounding her
showed only after the scissors opened horrid lacerations in her seared ass
cheeks, when he started stitching summarily the bleeding gashes before she
bled to death, turning even this into a further instrument of her torment.
He then started pouring hot vinegar on her muscular back and rending folds of
twitching muscle while she arched and buckled in her bounds, screaming her
despair in frenzies of twitching woe and coughing blood while her voice
rapidly waned again. Lyral's name, pleads for mercy, calls for help and
prayers whirled in her mind as pain and terror reigned unchallenged, but her
frothing mouth only carried pitiful screams and frantic babbling.
Her tormentor moved the scissors to her limbs, cutting jagged gashes in her
strained muscles while she stiffened and shook in abysmal pain, howling in
such mindless despair that the echoes lingered in the torture chamber even
when her voice cracked and bile rose to her mouth. The streams of hot vinegar
ran all over her jerking body and the dull edges ground through the reddened,
seared flesh only under the strength of the scissors' lever.
The pincers engaged the precarious stitching of a wound and ripped it just
when her last fragments of coherent thought told her that she could not suffer
more than this, and tore new heights of demented shrieking from the depths of
her screaming throat. The return of the scissors in the wounds whose stitches
he ripped with gleeful abandon echoed in the torture chamber with screams so
heart-rending that even her tormentor paused ... in ecstatic rapture.
He ended up stitching her wounds again, because she was bleeding to death, and
he quickly dragged Lyral nearby to stop it. The young blindfolded Priestess
was shaking under the impression of her friend's pitiful screams, yet she did
not hesitate even when the contact brought her to understand the horrors her
friend was being subjected to. Her mouth hummed words of prayer under the gag.
The brief respite was of no consequence for Kayleen's mind, still wading in
unbearable anguish. The Southerner dragged her away with a carelessness the
former Warrior Queen would have made him pay dearly, but now Kayleen's mind
trembled at the thought of his hands just as Lyral used to. He made her sit on
the floor against a post, twisted her arms behind her back and cuffed them to
an overhanging wooden bar. He then fastened her ankles to chains wound around
pulleys set in the floor, stretching her in a split which rekindled the agony
in her wheezing voice when her thigh bones bulged under the strained muscles.
When the wooden bar was slowly pulled up, her voice broke in pitiful gasps as
it could no longer sustain the screams surging from the pain in her shoulder
joints, but rose in a shriek when he forced a meat hook in her vagina under
her shattered pubic bone and used it to pull her loins up while pouring hot
vinegar on her mound pierced by the splinters of her pubic bone.
He sank the scissors in her mound lazily, toying with the tatters of her
clitoris without actually cutting much, drinking the terror on her contorted
face like fine wine. When her head arched in a long, broken scream he moved
the stream of hot vinegar to her belly and then lingered on her breasts,
following up with the scissors when the skin turned crimson. He stopped to
pour the contents of the jug in her gaping mouth, feasting on the terror in
her clear blue eyes as she recognized the act for what it would bring.
The jagged edges opened shallow bleeding gashes in her breasts, the breasts
which had become one of the focal points of her agonies after her capture and
which the scissors were slowly shredding, tearing on strands of twitching
flesh with savage abandon while the hot vinegar ran with blood and her voice
strained in gut-wrenching howls which bubbled through her foaming mouth mixing
with some residual syrup. The dull jaws bit her nipples a few times, almost
teasing them, but this was nothing before the dozens of lacerated gashes
savagely torn in the firm flesh of her globes.
After stitching the gashes on her bloodied front, he moved to her left hand
and caught with the pincers the torn nail bed of her middle finger, using it to
hold the finger while the scissors gnawed the flesh, in a bloody feast of mad
screaming which slowly moved from one finger to the next, lingering on the
tender cleft between the fingers while her face contorted in inhuman agony.
Vinegar and scissors returned to her breasts as he used pincers to rip the
stitches open, and the most excruciating torment returned to echo in her
demented screams as blood flowed from the many lacerated wounds in her mauled
globes. More summary stitching followed, but he soon proved more interested in
bringing to her toes the same agonies wrought on her fingers and lingered on
the former with cackling abandon while her voice broke into pitiful gasps.
As if to complete the canvas of her agony, he then climbed up with the hot
vinegar along her stretched legs, and the scissors repeatedly lacerated the
strained muscles of her thighs, excruciatingly drawing blood in spite of the
care in avoiding prominent blood vessels and stitching the horrid gashes. He
often lingered with the dull edges in the wound, waiting after each scream
before pressing them savagely into the flesh again.
Wracked by agonies atrocious beyond imagination, Kayleen's mind shook with
each broken scream and burned under the hot vinegar, blanking when the dull
dented edges broke the seared skin or tore strands of twitching flesh. If
there was a limit to pain, even under the effect of what she was being fed,
she should have crossed it by now. The thought of finding a point beyond which
the pain could not increase waned and waxed between the flashes of blinding
pain when the pincers ripped the stitches from her wounds, but found less and
less confirmation as her agonies were mercilessly protracted.
With devilish cruelty, he managed to keep her bleeding in check long enough to
return the scissors into most of the wounds cut in her quivering flesh,
searing them with hot vinegar and ripping the stitching with the pincers while
her voice was consumed by screams of such excruciating torment that hell
itself would shudder at them.
Lyral was brought forth again, without freeing Kayleen from her strenuous
suspension. He pulled Lyral's head between under Kayleen's ass cheeks, forcing
her to heal by her mouth as if aware that this was much less effective.
Actually, he knew that prisoners often soiled themselves when being subjected
to this torture and wanted to humiliate the Priestess, but since Kayleen had
been fed only syrup for days, his little game was foiled, although he found
ample compensation in Kayleen's agonized jerking and hoarse screams.
After yanking Lyral away, he lowered Kayleen on the floor, and proceeded to
cuff her ankles to chains from the ceiling and twist her arms behind her back
in reverse prayer position while she screamed from the painful split forced on
her thighs, whose heads teetered in their sockets and bulged under the muscle
at her stretched hips. He then used the meat hook to catch her broken pubic
bone again, pulling her loins forwards while her hanging form arched and her
voice teetered on the brink of madness as agony returned her sole master.
He started pouring hot vinegar on her stretched thighs, savoring how they
stiffened and twitched while she buckled in abysmal pain, jarring her hip
joints and her broken pubic bone half from the searing agony and half from
sheer terror at what would follow. When the bloody jaws of the bone scissors
gnawed through the seared skin, her howls rose at least an octave and wracked
her like a rag doll burning in the furnaces of hell.
More vinegar was poured on her stretched crotch, some seeping down her
orifices and searing her insides mercilessly, but the real target was her
mound and belly and the scissors reopened dented lacerations through the soft
flesh stretched by the pincers ripping their summary stitching while rivulets
of blood streaked her spasmodically jerking body and her chest almost burst
from the effort of venting her wretched agony.
The scissors closed on the tendons in her stretched thighs, marking another
step in her descent to hell as the agonies of her joints and her flesh met
each other and surged from her frothing mouth as one. She could not even think
about why he was doing this to her, she was so wracked by the howling torment
that she could only suffer and scream, an animal maddened by agonies beyond
description and teetering on the brink of annihilation.
After stitching her breasts he played with her terror for a while, ripping
some stitching and gnawing through wounds here and there, teasing the nubs of
her femininity which she had harrowingly learned would become the pinnacle of
her torment. He twisted and ripped the rim of her vagina, abundantly searing
it with hot vinegar while she rattled her chains screaming mindlessly.
Hot vinegar poured on her left nipple, its tatters crushed in the grip of the
pincers and stretched so that the scissors could rake it back and forth,
scraping it along its entire distended length while her head snapped in a howl
of gasping torment. As the torment was protracted, moved to her other nipple
and then slowly repeated on both over and over, she caught herself wishing he
would just rip her nipples off, and the sick plea even bubbled to her lips
between frenzies of gasping howls.
He closed the pincers on her labia and stretched them for the scissors, whose
dull jaws gnawed bleeding gashes through the distended folds while hot vinegar
was poured liberally and flowed inside her and down her body, some droplets
spraying as she jerked in fits of spasmodic howling. When the time for
stitching came, he twisted the meat hook inside her vagina and stitched her
labia together, trapping the hook behind the mauled folds of bleeding flesh.
He pulled up the meat hook slowly, pulling her loins up until her splayed legs
were almost parallel to the floor and vinegar could be easily poured on her
clitoris, but he stopped after a while to yank her head up behind her back and
bring the jug to her mouth. She drank between coughs, craving the liquid and
yet trembling at what it heralded.
The pincers closed on her shredded femininity, pulling and twisting it while
hot vinegar was slowly poured on the trapped flesh and pangs of atrocious
agony wracked her suspended body. The dull jaws closed around its base and
pressed the jagged dents on the seared flesh, sawing without cutting as he
carefully slid them around the nub while exerting as much pressure as her
stretched flesh would stand without tearing. No such care was being spent on
her voice, which strained under the agony bursting from her clitoris but
failed to bring out the full measure of her woe as frenzied screams of unholy
pain echoed under the vaults of the torture chamber, waning and waxing while
the torment was mercilessly protracted beyond the boundaries of cruelty.
The pitiful howls stopped only when her jerks became so spasmodic that the
meat hook ripped through her stitched labia, causing her to swing back almost
to the point of tearing her thighs off, hanging in a paroxysm of agony so
overwhelming that no scream could capture it. Smiling, he neared, grabbed her
wrists yanking her head up and violently penetrated her shredded vagina from
behind, thrusting in rutting excitement while her mouth stood agape in a
silent scream of agony as bitter as the bile retching through her throat.
Only when sated did he drop her twitching body on the floor and allow Lyral to
cuddle her friend between her arms while using her power to the fullest extent
of her capability, albeit sobbing and whispering behind her gag words which no
one could hear but which she hoped Kayleen could understand some day.
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