Page 18 of Knife Volume 2

Tuesday’s spine was forced into a wrenching backward arch, and every vertebra screamed. Her right leg was pulled up and sharply bent, the knee and thigh already strained and burning. Aching. Her left hip was heading the same direction but that pain was manageable. For now.

Her stomach was stretched taut, core muscles already trembling as they fought to keep some of her weight from hanging entirely on her shoulders and the chest harness. She knew her ab and back muscles would eventually give out, and when they did, the pain would become ten levels past unbearable.

Her left leg dangled uselessly. She tried bending it. Tried lifting it. There was nothing to do with it. It just hung there, adding its dead weight to the constant, shifting pull on her hip and lower back, while the hip and knee bitched about the angles being all wrong.

Minutes later, the bastard tied a rope to her right knee and pulled it outward. The new angle made the strain on that leg flare white-hot, and she couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that escaped.

But then the sadistic motherfucker made everything infinitely worse, tying a heavy weight on her left ankle, dragging the leg downward and forcing her hip into an even more extreme, twisted angle — and it felt as if her joint was being slowly pried apart.

A long, broken whine tore from her throat and echoed back to her, as if her own sounds were taunting her.

She wanted to tell him how badly it hurt, how much worse it made everything, but she realized there was no need. He knew exactly what he was doing, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he’d calculated every angle on every joint, and how to bring maximum stress to each. How to make it so every breath, every tiny movement added to the relentless strain and agony.

“Tongue out.”

He stepped in close, placed chopsticks above and below her tongue, and tightened them down, looping the rubber bands over and over. The sharp pressure made her eyes water even more, until tears threatened to spill. She tried to pull back but there was nowhere to go. The wood dug in hard, holding her tongue hostage outside her mouth, and she could already feel it drying out. Eventually, even swallowing would be painful.

She’d wondered why he’d left her clit free, and thought it was so the rough, scratchy ropes would rub her raw all around it, but it all made sense when he put a suction bulb on her clit and squeezed the pump. The suction grew stronger, pulling her clit impossibly tight. It grew and grew, stretching the sensitive flesh until it throbbed with its own frantic heartbeat. She gasped around the chopsticks, desperate for a relief she knew would not come.

He moved to her breasts next. The suction bulbs latched onto her already-tender nipples, drawing them deep into the glass with every pump. They swelled quickly, turning dark and aching, each pulse sending fresh sparks of pain that traveled straight to her swollen, throbbing clit.

He stepped away for a moment, his broad back blocking her view of whatever he was organizing at the folding table. When he returned, he ripped all three suction bulbs off without warning and before she could even scream, he snapped a cruel clamp with tiny steel teeth onto her swollen clit. The teeth sank in deep while the strong springs crushed every nerve ending. Her screams were long and shrill. When she breathed in to scream again, she scented her own blood in the air.

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.