Theresa's Punishment Part 10

Such a confession might alleviate her current ordeal, but it would only fuel sterner grief in the future and so she kept the words hidden, for now. "But tell me the name of the villain responsible for your downfall. I wish to have the name of one who has so expertly ruined you."

"P ... Pelakh ... T ... Thaine, Supreme G.o.ddess,"

she snivelled.

"Good slave," she replied.

The woman released her holds and stepped back so she could regard the dangling prisoner. "But it does not change your situation. You have been sent to the Temple for your final fate, and regardless of the reasons behind your arrival, you belong to the Order now. Yet you intrigue me, slave, I think I can make good use of you to aid me. Let us see your response to some minor trials from one of my knight templars, and I will decide what destiny you merit. You may continue at your own discretion, Mernekt."

The holy guardian flung his arm back and launched the whip into the air. He swung back and flicked the tip to her spine, applying the weapon with all his cybernetic might. The lucent lines he etched into her caused Theresa to writhe in her dismal h.e.l.l. Her thoughts were a maddened tempest and her only wish and intent was to get away from the remorseless whip, but her only available recourse was to scream.

Stroke after stroke fell, robbing her of breath, stealing her sanity, and leaving her a slack husk when the final lap of the tip came and no more followed. With dampened strands hanging before her eyes, and the collar imposing on her rasping breath, Theresa was left loose between the two poles with all her vigour gone.

Picking up the end of the implement, the templar slotted it back into the hole that had released it. With a swift jerk, the coil was retracted. It vanished back and released the warrior's armour. The root disappeared and the source sealed over, permitting his fist to drop away and the keen edges of his claws to hiss through the air.

Facing the imprisoned subject, he entered a new code and opened a cabinet of bizarre implements and eldritch devices. The tools of agony hung in ordered patterns, revealing them to the scrutiny and selection of the guardian.

Another short rod was selected, this one made of thick, solid metal. The length was maliciously spiked and there was a clip on either end. As he moved towards her chest, the width of the clips revealed his purpose and Theresa sought to move away.

The stave was raised and the clips snapped to her nipple rings. The Knight let go and left the weight dragging at her teats through the medium of these insufferable moorings.

Gasping from the severity of the effects, she panted and whimpered her pleas for mercy, to solicit the removal. The pain of having her a.s.sets drawn down by the rings made Theresa shake violently but this only caused the tiny teeth to scratch at her cleavage and b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Continuing with his task, his clawed hand reached into the a.r.s.enal and removed a pole. The rounded tip was armed with monstrous rubber barbs and the remaining length was lined with three sets of dual restraints. Each of these heavy studded straps was connected to the staff by short hobble chains.

As though wielding a baton, Mernekt spun it in his grasp. His dextrous fingers whirled the implement while he wandered slowly towards Theresa. Worried mumbles issued under her breath.

Without any hesitation, he gripped the object in the manner of a spear, and lowered. He kept his gaze locked to hers so he might observe her panic and concern. He loitered with the aimed weapon and let her fright bloat to new levels. Theresa's legs fought to close and deny easy access because the provocative split was only serving his intentions.

"No, don't, pleeease, I-' she began, her own words proving to be the signal to start.

With a methodical and lethally accurate drive the toothed point plunged into her. Its pliant fangs rattled upon the drooping ring in her c.l.i.toris, and the hard rod opened her forcibly and dragged its slick surfaces against her dry membranes. The nodules inflicted little more than scratching discomfort because their points faced outwards.

Until removal was attempted, they would be willing to remain impa.s.sive in her torment. The penetration made her squeak in shock as the dive into her made Theresa's abdomen spasm uncontrollably.

The templar held the stave in place, tugged open the fetters, and let her legs fall to the ground.

Momentarily robbed of motion by her struggles, the limbs sought to acquire their former abilities before Mernekt could restrain her again. A cybernetic hold compressed her shin, crushing the flesh and steering it into the second set of ankle bonds. He quickly buckled the joint in and then the second foot was identically manhandled to deny Theresa any chance to eject the sheathed pole. The length of her own legs was now anchoring it within her. It would make any bending of the limbs push the fanged pole deeper, and any straightening of the limbs into a more erect stance would drag the soft teeth out and plough uncomfortable furrows of sensation in her s.e.x. The promise of such intense consequences immediately coerced her into trying to keep as still as possible.

The other restraints were sealed above and below her knees and the short chain granted her a valuable buffer zone for motion. With the basics of his plan installed, the knight moved away and the leg spreader automatically retreated back into the ground.

The impa.s.sioned mourning from Theresa had little effect on the gaunt giant, and without delay, he stepped before her and lifted his forearm. He flicked his fist forward and a supple black stem spat out. The wiry crop extended over two feet and wobbled in the light.

The telescopic shaft was hurled back and swung inward to etch a trench of heat across her stomach. The welt made Theresa cavort in her bonds and unleash a croak as he persevered with his a.s.sault. The male used broad oscillating strokes and his enhanced strength and a relentless cadence inflicted an ever more intricate plexus of lines upon her belly.

The smooth sheet of skin rippled from impacts and her cavorting stomach. The thrashings made her chest rock and sway the heavy bar at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, magnifying the haul at her nipple rings.

Her only success from her fight for avoidance was in causing the immersed p.r.i.c.kly rod to shift and dig its dull claws into her. They were not sharp enough to wound, but the discomfort made Theresa yelp and kick her legs out to counter the effects.

The beating stopped and the male stepped away. The whip skipped back into its hidden home at some unseen command.

The High Theocrat moved out before Theresa.

She followed the wall and traced the smooth surface with her fingers. The woman looked him up and down. His breath was heavy and deep, and he was dripping with prurience.

A hand reached down and there was a soft muted click before his codpiece dropped into her hand. She moved it slowly away and the male gave a tremble as his c.o.c.k slithered free and fell on display. The Theocrat tossed the armour aside and watched his shaft swell and stand up. His eyes were locked to Theresa's many vivid weals and the prospect of inflicting more pain on her was making his member bulge with anxious need. The Theocrat took hold of the manhood and felt its racing pulse through her glove. She grinned and offered several dilatory strokes that further fanned his concupiscence and then she simply let go and left him deprived of any more input. She nodded towards Theresa, and the knight gave her room and strolled back behind the bound form. He was now poised and ready to continue his sadism at a word from his sultry overlord. "Not the most educated of tormentors, but those are males for you - too impulsive in their nature. Their patience and longevity for abuse is measured only in how long they can hold their l.u.s.t at bay," she commented.

The woman removed an ornate vambrace from the cabinet. She locked it about her forearm and the device gave a whining purr of activation as several lights lit up along the detailed flowing circuitry.

"The templars are useful defenders of our faith.

It negates the need to rely totally on the military and gives us the means to defend our churches and cathedrals. Besides, it is wise to have obedient loyal males within easy reach," she acknowledged lightly and lifted her fist towards Theresa's chest. A laser spot spat out from a glowing red lens and projected targeting crosshairs on her torso.

The wandering tiny 'x' of crimson made Theresa whimper and be fraught with inner turmoil, oblivious as to what manner of projectile this beam taught to fly true. Was it an energy blast?

Was it a searing stream of electrical voltage or a solid missile to maim or injure her? The fright was further encouraged when the High Theocrat traced it around Theresa, obviously thinking through where to place the enigmatic issue of the weapon.

"The Holy Order is matriarchal elite. We have raised our teachings to new levels of superlative perfection. Do you think you can stand or survive our ministrations? Shall I execute you now and save you the horror of your future?" wondered the woman, lifting her aim to Theresa's brow. The light dazzled her eyes as it crossed her vision. "No, Supreme G.o.ddess, don't kill me, I implore you," babbled Theresa, trying to gain a reprieve. "So you want to be tortured beyond all mortal endurance?"

"Yes, yes, just don't kill me."

"A willing subject for abuse. That is a good sign. A long life of agony could be yours if you can maintain such an att.i.tude, slave," she announced, then dropped her aim and fired. A hiss of pressure caused Theresa to shriek in fright, and while she screamed, a tiny metal orb struck her hip. The three hooked fingers that were coiled back on the minute tripod suddenly snapped forward and grabbed a pinch of her skin in a merciless clasp. The clamp bloated the skin with crushed sensation. This susceptibility was then exploited by the sharp stud that was stabbed forward to press it into the captured morsel. The clamp was a painful addition to her sorrow, and the dark dull point increased it. The spine made her shudder and try to fling the small appliance off but the effort proved fruitless. The grip was too strong to be defeated by mere wriggles, and the pounding throb continued from the compression. The feel of the stud being shoved into the nugget of abused skin grew more distinct and awful with every pa.s.sing second.

Another was fired and the small orb threw out its curved arms. When it struck the soft flesh of her left breast, the mordant toy secured itself via the sharp clamps, and sent a lance of slender silver against the captured flesh.

Arching back, Theresa affirmed her anguish with a thunderous yell. Her fingers tensed outward, and the kick of her bound legs extracted the shaft the tiny but terrible distance that caused her to reverse her action, double her up, and extend her scream.

A rapid trio was launched. The pellets thudded to her thighs and inspired a gasp when the clamps took hold, and then a cry with the attack of the stud.

"No more. Please. For pity's sake," moaned Theresa.

She was delirious with pain. Her movements were not only causing dismay to her womb but they were making the burden between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce, tug, and scratch.

"Silence her annoying mumblings and you may take her, Mernekt," she permitted.

With sudden celerity, the templar forced a ball gag into her mouth. He easily defeated her squirming head and shoved it in before fastening the strap around her skull. The belt dug into the corners of her mouth and kept the orb slotted deep to deform her words beyond recognition while permitting her wails to emerge in all their audio glory. With the price for intercourse paid, he grabbed her hips from behind. He held firmly and snagged his thumbs into the soft yielding b.u.t.tocks. Clawing the barrier open, he forced an entry despite Theresa's frantically clenched sphincter. The muscles of her rear were unable to deny him as he shoved inward, driving deep and commencing his ravishment with a swift stabbing rate.

The spines on his armour prodded her, sometimes with enough impetus to draw a speck of red. The outrageously sharp claws of his hands opened slender scratches where his hands wandered at her flanks, guiding her via her pelvis, using it as a steering wheel to churn Theresa upon his s.e.x. He employed his c.o.c.k more like a sword to inflict rending pains rather than an organ of pleasure. Each thrust swung her body and made the bar attached to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sway and bob, making her nipple rings seem as though they were made of molten metal.

Undeterred by the act of violation, the High Theocrat opened fire with a new volley. She placed the hideous gadgets on Theresa's arms and legs, her inner thighs, belly and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, each one led by a thin streak of empurpled light before it applied identical straits. The reason was clear and her rear clenched in fits to the immersed shaft.

Each tightening a.n.a.l fist escalated his delight in his work, and the religious warrior revelled in the feel of her agony upon his jabbing phallus. To be bound so mercilessly, tormented so effectively, and ravished so savagely, the various ordeals gathered into a hurricane of debauched want and Theresa's thoughts were tossed upon the potent eddies. The pain was unbearable but the bliss was intolerable.

Drowning in her own mind, Theresa howled to the heavens. Her mouth was already spread wide by the intruding sphere and lines of rabid drool slipped from her lips and stretched out from the underside of her jaw. The sudden injection of hot s.e.m.e.n into her rear made her screw her face up with endurance. After her long nights of harsh and ceaseless molestation, it was an o.r.g.a.s.mic treat to feel a sterling Dregakk manhood in her again. The shrivelled visage that she carried from trying to weather the brutal rhapsody flashed open into a startled grimace when a pair of orbs struck each of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Their trident jaws clenched to her and shoved their stiletto tongue against the fertile regions to cause a devastating shock. The ferocious clench of her rear made the male gasp in sudden rhapsodic bliss and a second squirt of hot fluid entered her choked rear.

The effects started to lower to less refulgent pinnacles. Her tumble down the mountainside of her ecstatic suffering ended at a steady and remorseless level, where the compressing clamps kept all feeling from her skin, stockpiling a reservoir in secret, waiting to throw the h.o.a.rded stash of awful sensation back the moment they were freed, and in the meantime they only let a faithfully systematic pulse slip through. The studs kept up a fiendish presence, announcing their sites with flickers of myalgia. The parts of her anatomy into which they were pressing felt as though they were being mangled and torn apart by fists of fire.

The scratches and cuts at her back and sides were minor rivals to such torment, but they added their flavour to her trial and made for further insufferable companions.

A hint of rapture corrupted her mask of desperate endurance when the feel of the alien phallus drawing free of her made itself apparent. Its pa.s.sage was facilitated by the prolific issue that now stained her chafed insides and sore sphincter. The impaling s.e.x seemed to plunder her energy, and Theresa slackened on her bonds and sought a chance to rest. Settling into an otiose state, the jab of the pole to her deepest territories forced her to back up and accept the scratch of the myriad internal nodules. Cursing her tormentors over a stifling gag, her burbled words made little sense. It was a failing that she was glad of for it let her ease her choler without gaining retribution. The High Theocrat removed the firearm from her wrist and placed it back into the awaiting slot.

She then let her fingers wander across the selection, her mind possessed of whimsical decisions, untroubled by purpose and awaiting the sight of something to stoke her imagination and villainous decadence.

She paused for a moment and stroked her angular chin. A smile crept through her lips and curled the dark corners before she used a claw tipped finger to flick open a tiny panel at the flank of her waspie belt. The small pane accepted a few tapped numbers and took command of the room with its code.

The ability of the denizens of the Temple to control the very environment with their will made them appear even more deified to Theresa and therefore infinitely more worthy of her awe and reverence. The lurking need to grovel before them was empowered by their mastery of matter, that with a touch they could conjure items of restraint and abuse into existence, to punish or pleasure with a capricious notion and equally easy touch of a b.u.t.ton.

A section of the floor lowered a fraction and then slid back. It unveiled a sunken square section whose smooth walls dropped down a few inches. "Remove the weight and unfasten her arms,"

ordered the woman, and marched to the pit after grabbing a small box from a lower shelf of the cabinet.

The clips were removed and the weight taken away to bring a profound relief to her harried nipples. Despite the many other clamps, it was enough of a reprieve to bring a sudden rush of excitement and exaltation.

The buckles rang with merry chimes while the templar rapidly set loose the straps and made sure to leave the one at her neck to the end. Theresa's arms dropped to her sides, and were extremely tardy in any response to her wishes. She tried to reach up and remove the tiny orbs, but the clamps were locked in place and any attempt at dragging them off only revived the pinch and added new suffering to the skin currently under their attentive diligence.

The belt at her throat came away, and she wilted automatically. A squeal of angst made her rise up again when the stab of the pole and the subsequent gouging effects caused her to fold over again. Theresa kept herself at an awkward stance between squatting and standing, with only the tiniest shuffle permitted by the inhibiting bar. "Come here, slave," hissed the woman, her tone of authority absolute.

Employing tiny steps, Theresa complied but the hobble pole was almost crippling her. The dull studs shifted in her s.e.x, nibbling at the already well-punished membranes and making her quiver in sudden fits when a particularly sensitive region was grazed. Each step was a nightmare of selfcontrol, and the voyage seemed to take forever.

Any attempt to speed it up made her balance ail.

Her mind was already dizzy from the pain and spots flickered over her sight while her skin chilled and became laced with sweat.

The weighty footfalls of the knight closed in and overtook her. His fingers reached out and ran across her b.u.t.tocks. The tips left four long scratches on the soft pelt and the thin pink furrows caused Theresa to jolt upright with a scream, and then emphasise her distress when the banks of fangs shifted and had her throw herself back down into the demanded stance. Her instinctive responses were being monstrously and excessively chastised.

Finally, although battling for balance with every step, she arrived near the pit. The warrior turned to stand behind the High Theocrat and watched Theresa with revived prurient needs. "Step in," said the female, jabbing a long finger at the square.

With a sense of jeopardy, Theresa complied.

She knew that they would force her in anyway and apply additional brutality should she resist.

Without warning, the floor began to sink down, slowly descending and carrying Theresa down with it. She shuffled about but the meagre walls of the pit were already far too high for her shackled legs to traverse. Gurgling her words of pleading, she pawed at the sides, trying to drag herself out before she was ferried too deep to reach. The lip cleared her shoulders and still she was gradually being lowered.

"I advise you to take hold of the ledge, slave,"

suggested the woman, and settled into a crouch before Theresa when she clapped her palms to the lip. Holding firm, her bare feet left the ground and her fingers left Theresa hanging over the growing abyss. Theresa had to hold her legs slightly crooked to help alleviate the pain of the pole but there was worse to come.

The shrill tone of sc.r.a.ping metal rose from below and she risked a glance into the depths with her heart fluttering from worry. The sight made her scream aloud in mortified calamity.

Dense banks of slender barbed spikes, over three feet in length had arisen and filled the bottom like the back of some lethal porcupine. The deadly a.r.s.enal was aimed up towards her and the cruel fingers of hooked metal beckoned for her to fall.

"Now, let us begin in earnest, and see what you can take. The option of a fairly quick death is available to you now, slave, though if you land poorly, you may end up spending many hours lying in the depths, punctured and paralysed, bleeding slowly in new realms of torment," she purred, and flipped open the lid of the box with a nail point.

The woman reached in with the same carved tip and there was the soft click of a tiny lock. The High Theocrat withdrew the armoured digit and revealed that the nail had been embellished with an inch long spire of metal. The needle glinted in the light when she turned the instrument over beneath her gaze, examining it before lowering the tool towards Theresa's fingers.

Incoherent pleas spilled over the gag and spittle and tears surrounded them. The woman gently prodding the soft flesh of her left index finger and then aimed beneath the nail. The brief sparks of discomfort made Theresa weep in mortal jeopardy and when her body bounced against the wall, it made the many clamps throb anew.

Her jaws opened even wider and left the ball loose in her maw when the tiny stiletto was placed under her nail. With a slight shove, it was pushed in until it parted the tissues and slithered along the underside. The sensation was more akin to a broadsword being plunged into her arm and the intensity was more fervid than anything she could have fathomed. The feel of it shifting upon her flesh, the skin erupting with volcanic torment, the excruciating penetration, all of it had her throwing her head wildly about and her body quaking against the smooth wall of the pit.

The shard was released with a twist and left sheathed within her. The High Theocrat reached in and drew forth another. Her eyes were saturated with diabolic rapture at the sound of Theresa's agony.

The dangling slave shouted her protests into the gag, but could do nothing as another tip touched the neighbouring digit. The Theocrat closed her eyes and Theresa watched the woman savour the cries she offered when the pressure behind it finally pierced the finger and let the spine sink in.

Wiggling the inserted needle to make Theresa wail all the more fervently, the suffering proved too much and prompted an attempt to stop it.

With a spasmodic jerk, Theresa moved a hand to try to tug them out, but the added weight caused her remaining hand to slip back and she slid towards the fall that would deliver her into the spikes. With a frantic slap, she dropped the wavering hand back and restored her anchors. She held tight and was torn between the ordeal and a grisly fate below.

Theresa could only shriek while the tyrannical female inserted more of the baleful needles. She slotted them into her fingers and sheathed one in each while Theresa howled. Her mind was aflame, her thoughts scrambled and torn between the instinct to evade the pain and that for selfpreservation. Each time more of the mordant wires were forced into her to turn her digits into lucid stars of searing mayhem, they eroded her resolve to remain on the perch and endure. She could not take this, it was simply beyond her. A third needle entered the little finger on her right hand, and she yelled into her own mind, trying to convince herself that she had come this far, and if she was going to fall, she should have done it at the start and saved herself this tragedy.

But the experience was too much, and the sweat welling across her body was making her fingers slick. Theresa was sliding gradually back, her fight to stay on being defeated by her own perspiration.

Shrieking, she tried to hold firm, every millimetre she lost making her terror rise until she was remaining fixed solely by the merest tips. The pressure on the pierced nails drastically increased their effects while the Theocrat simply mocked her with a laugh and then proceeded to insert another. Issuing a chagrined yell, Theresa's grip was lost and she dropped. She awaited the imminent dreadful rending of her body but then her feet fell one single inch and struck solid floor. Her body sank down and stabbed the pole to her limits. Theresa straightened up with a spasm and toppled against the wall. Her dread had suddenly transformed into utter confusion.

Slouched against the wall, she threw her stare down, and prodded the image with her toes. She found it solid. It was a holographic picture of such intricate detail that it had tricked her mind. With a roar of furious anger, she broke into sobbing fits. Her hatred of the woman bloated to immeasurable levels from this cruel illusion, the imposition of fear without equal having torn at her soul and left her numb; and it had all been a lie to entertain this b.i.t.c.h queen.

Grabbing the needles, she bellowed with her wrath and hauled them out. The drag of the metal was a much sought after distraction from her tempestuous wrath. Taking them out in bunches, she hurled them to the artificial scene and pounded her fists to the wall as though to destroy the pain in her fingertips.

Yelling and cursing, weeping and laughing, Theresa's sanity was hanging on by the merest sliver.

With a jolt of movement, the floor started to rise and the hologram flicked out of view when the ground smothered it. Theresa leaned against the wall and sniffed back her tears while cradling her fervid fingertips. Slouched aside, she started to slip onto the floor when it was granted to her. The pit lifted up her legs until she was laid on her side, her p.u.s.s.y still impaled upon the vengeful and intolerant staff.

The insulting giggle of the High Theocrat was a caustic sound to her ears. It made her shudder against the invidious soft laughter and clench her hands into fists.

"Remove the gag," demanded the woman, and placed a hand to her belt so she could impart a code and command movement.

A section of wall slid apart and revealed an a.r.s.enal of neatly racked weapons - crops, paddles, canes, whips, cats, tawses, straps- all manner of dreadful instruments of corporeal punishment, as well as numerous variations and hybrids of the tools.

The knight roughly removed the gag and the ball was dripping with her spit. The loss finally let her aching jaws close and permit her to swallow without difficulty. Meanwhile, the capricious grasp of the grand torturess closed about the ridged handle of a strange cane. The vibrant purple length was slender and armed with tiny cilia so they it almost appeared fuzzy.

The soft t.i.tter of heels signalled her return and the lithe strip reached out to stroke her physique.

It traced around the clamps and the vindictive stalk issued burning pangs with the slightest touch. The alien plant stem was poisonous in nature, even after its amputation, and the light caress made her jerk with covert shocks as it left behind a flushed purple bruise. The route it drew was strangely luminescent and the sting throbbed with a penetrating ache long after its infliction. Theresa whimpered and flicked to attention when the strange weapon touched her. The swell of mayhem from a touch leapt to a peak and then settled back until the glowing line was pulsating with subterranean abuse. She feared that the woman would whip her with it to enhance its effects; but first, there were other ordeals to withstand.

A touch to her belt had the squadrons of Theresa's clamps open their holds. The studs jumped back and let the small metal orbs drop to the floor. They bounced and rolled away like marbles.

Theresa clenched her teeth and scowled. The impact of returning feeling clawed into the tissues and found the minor bruise of the stud whereupon it declared the discovery with a nova burst that made her throw herself aside. Theresa rolled and shivered as she sought to escape the leftover effects. Even the sc.r.a.ps were more than she could bear.

Wheezing softly, she swallowed and lay motionless. Her mind was dulled from her prolonged session of ill treatment. The capacity for abuse the Dregakk displayed so flagrantly never ceased to exceed her expectations.

"Lift her up," ordered the termagant.

The templar stepped forward and grabbed her about the back of her neck. The vice-like hold squeezed and tugged her into the air. She settled onto her feet and then he withdrew. Swaying slightly, she rubbed her many aching points. The rosy streaks of the welts across her back, the flushed blotches from the clamps that were centred around a slight contusion, the incandescent sting of the cane that had traced weaving paths up her torso, the criss cross of scratches over her hips and back, her brutalised rear; all of it ensured she could not forget their companionship. How could she endure so much concentrated suffering? It amazed her that she was still alive, and though she tried to pretend that it was not real, that she was imagining the pain, it was no use - the nightmare was real.

"Silence her," came another order, and the guard sank fingers into the back of her hair. He captured a fist and craned her head back.

With her mouth opened, a st.u.r.dy plate of metal was pushed to her face and she felt that the interior bore a thick balloon into the cavern of her mouth. The male dragged back the straps that had been riveted at the perimeter and fastened them tightly about her head so that the sculpted mouthpiece was fixed in place and she was denied the chance to spit it out. Two st.u.r.dy strips rose from the top in an inverted 'Y'. They ran on either side of her nose, connected at her brow, and then flowed over her head to grab the strap already in place around the base of her skull. A sharp tug caused the leather to groan in strain and compress her head within a ferocious lock that held the metal all the more firmly to her lips.

The locks at the buckles were sealed with a soft click, and the balloon in her mouth immediately billowed out of its own accord. The pressurised gasp filled her mouth with impenetrable rubber and stamped on her studded tongue before keeping it held beneath it. The gag had stopped up her maw and left her with only hampered breath through her nose. The vents were further brutalised when her nose ring was drawn down and snagged by a lock on the front of the gag. The anchor stretched the ring and made her septum surge with powerful pangs.