Chapter 7 #2
Before the second scream started, he clamped vicious alligator clips to her nipples. The jagged teeth bit down hard, and she writhed violently in the ropes, unable to beg, unable to do anything but sob and shake as fresh pain exploded through her chest.
He hung weights from all three clamps. The sudden, dragging pull made her scream again, louder this time, her head falling forward as the chains swung with every ragged breath.
He circled her slowly, admiring his victim, splayed open and hurting, suffering.
She tried to adjust herself, to find even a fraction of relief, but every shift sent the heavy weight on her ankle swinging, radiating fresh fire through her knee and hip while the clamps and chopsticks kept her constantly aware of how completely she belonged to the sadist standing over her.
The hours that followed blurred into a long, relentless haze of sensation.
He removed the crotch rope and flogged her asshole until the tender ring burned and swelled, then fucked it hard while she swung helplessly in the ropes.
The anal speculum came next — cold metal stretching her impossibly wide, which eventually led to the violet wand sending shocks from her rectum all the way up her colon, deep inside her.
Every so often, he’d spread the speculum blades wider, until she was certain she was about to rip open.
But she didn’t. Before he turned the violet wand off, he touched it to her nipple clamps, her clit clamp.
She came unglued, and could scent his arousal levels skyrocketing at her white-hot, all-consuming pain.
When the anal speculum finally closed and slid free, a massive plug took its place.
The thick, heavy steel forced a long, broken cry from her as it stretched her burning hole even wider than before.
The unrelenting fullness made her sob, her hole fighting the invasion even as it had no choice but to yield.
He fucked her pussy while the plug stretched her ass to its limit, then spent what felt like an eternity working toward fisting her.
His fingers pressed deeper with every passing minute, stretching her millimeter-by-millimeter beyond anything she thought she could endure.
She sobbed and shook in the ropes, every joint, every muscle, every nerve pushed far past its breaking point.
Eventually, he took great delight in ordering her to come, over and over.
He’d slip his hand under the swinging weight on her clit while his fist was buried inside her, or he’d remove the clamp and mercilessly rub her raw, swollen nub while growling the command.
And she did. And she did. Every damned time, her body obeyed even when her mind begged for a mercy that would never come.
Every release was a demented kind of bliss, a brief, shattering moment of orgasmic relief which quickly sent her into a fresh level of hell, her asshole spasming around the plug, her overstretched cunt jerking violently around his fingers and the edge of his knuckles while her inner muscle contractions radiated into excruciating spasms that tore through her harder than the last — painful, wrenching waves that made her jerk and swing helplessly in the ropes, her shoulders and hip joints screaming, the weight of her body pulling on her elevated right ankle, while whatever he’d tied to her other ankle dragged it down in a constant series of brutal pulls from every direction while it swung wildly below her.
It was always worse after the orgasm. So much worse once the arousal faded, leaving only the raw, crushing pain behind.
The clit clamp went back on immediately, the weight swinging beneath the freshly crushed bundle of nerves, adding a new layer of white-hot fire.
Her sobs grew louder, more broken, each one setting the weights and her body into fresh motion.
Yet he always managed to work her right back to the edge again, until she was nothing but a shaking, dripping, exhausted mess, her mind floating somewhere outside her body while her cunt and ass kept clenching and fluttering around his hand and the plug.
She lost track of time. She lost track of everything except the deep, burning stretch, the way her body hung at wrong angles in his ropes, and his voice.
Her core had long since given out, and eventually, she stopped fighting the ropes altogether.
She simply hung there — offered up, broken open, letting the pain, the pleasure, and the deep, soul-level surrender wash over her while he took everything he wanted.
- - - ? - - -
Knife stepped back and drank in every sight, sound, and scent.
She hung limp in the ropes now, no longer fighting them, fully surrendered. Her head hung from her body, and every breath just brought more pain.
She was completely offered up — cunt and ass exposed, body arched backward and trembling, every large joint stressed and in agony.
And she was utterly at his mercy.
He’d focused almost entirely on her high-nerve-density areas so far, but it was time to give her nipples, clit, tongue, and asshole a break.
Well, they wouldn’t get a break, exactly. He’d continue to hurt them passively while he focused on other body parts.
He’d tossed everything for beef and mushroom stroganoff into the slow cooker after breakfast, and it’d probably been ready for at least an hour. He was hungry, and she needed some food and water.
Before he went downstairs, he removed the clit clamp, tied the crotch rope to the rear of the chest harness, added a knot to press directly on her clit, and secured the other end to the front of her harness, snugging the crotch rope tight while making sure the knots would torture her clit, cunt, and asshole.
Finally, he took the chopsticks off her tongue. Her wolf would have it healed enough by the time he got back, she’d be able to eat and drink.
She whimpered softly at the relief, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
Nor did he look back at her when she whined loudly at the realization he was going downstairs and leaving her alone.
In the kitchen, he loaded up a large bowl with enough stroganoff for both of them, filled large tumblers with flavorless Pedialyte, and headed back upstairs.
He put a six-inch-tall mat under her, and a wedge on top of it. She screamed when he took the nipple clamps off, and he popped her on the right tit hard enough to leave a handprint before calmly telling her, “Hush.”
The anchor rope pulling her right knee towards the wall had to go before he could carefully lower her to the mat.
When her torso finally rested on the mat and wedge, he could go a little faster, lowering the ropes until her legs were straight behind her on the mat. She’d landed as he wanted her — upper body angled with her face up in the air — perfect for him to feed her.
Her arms were still bound behind her, but most of her joints could rest in relief while she ate.
He took thirty minutes to feed her, offering bites of stroganoff and sips of electrolyte water through a straw.
He ate plenty himself, sitting close, watching every swallow, every flicker of her expression.
She was exhausted, but she ate every bite he gave her and, interestingly enough, his fingers touching her lips seemed to ramp her arousal right back up.
When he decided she’d had enough, he lifted her back into the air and tied her right knee out a little farther than before.