The Flaying Challenge - Mary's Perspective

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

I'm feeling incredibly, mercilessly, sadistic tonight. I'm thinking again of Mary, who may or may not be the Mary from a certain martial arts series sequel to a beloved 80s martial arts film....

When I feel like this I have to let myself go, I have to write everything down. If skinning and flaying aren't your thing then buddy you're in the wrong thread!

The Slow Flaying: Mary’s Perspective

The cold steel table beneath me felt like a distant memory, as if my mind was separating itself from the physical world, retreating to a place where pain couldn’t reach me. But there was no escaping it. My skin had already been peeled away from the backs of my legs in large, agonizing sheets, leaving the raw, exposed muscle beneath throbbing in the open air. Every twitch, every movement sent fresh waves of pain coursing through my body.

The Flay Master moved with calm precision, his eyes focused as he began to slice into the flesh of my back. I could feel the blade cutting deep into my skin, starting at the base of my spine and working its way upward. My muscles twitched involuntarily as the cold steel pressed into my flesh, and I screamed, my voice raw from the constant agony.

The crowd was wild with excitement, their cheers and laughter filling the air as they watched the Flay Master work. I could hear them shouting, urging him to peel my skin away faster, deeper, to reveal more of my vulnerable body. But the Flay Master took his time, ensuring that every inch of my skin was slowly and methodically removed.

With a sickening sound, the skin on my back was finally peeled away in one large sheet. The pain was unbearable, a searing fire that radiated through my entire body. My muscles were exposed, glistening in the dim light, throbbing with pain as the cool air hit the raw, open wounds.

“Please...” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “Please... stop...”

The Flay Master paused for a moment, his cold eyes meeting mine. But it wasn’t him who responded. The Whip Master stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he uncoiled his whip.

“Begging, Mary?” he said softly, his voice full of cruel amusement. “You know what happens when you beg.”

My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me. There would be no mercy. No relief.

The Whip Master raised his arm, and the whip cracked through the air, striking directly across my exposed, skinless back.

The pain was indescribable.

It was as though my body had been set on fire from the inside out. The lash tore across the raw, fleshy muscle of my back, sending shockwaves of agony through every nerve in my body. I screamed, my voice breaking as the pain consumed me, my body convulsing violently against the restraints.

Crack.

The second lash struck, and the pain intensified beyond anything I had ever imagined. My vision blurred, my mind spinning as my body gave in to the overwhelming agony. I felt myself slipping away, the darkness closing in as the pain reached its peak.

And then... nothing.

I passed out.

I woke to the sensation of cold, stinging salt water being poured across my back. The pain was immediate and intense, a sharp, burning sensation that made me scream as my body jolted back to consciousness. The salt seeped into the open wounds, setting every nerve on fire as I thrashed against the restraints, my body trembling uncontrollably.

“Not so fast, Mary,” the Whip Master said with a smirk. “We’re far from finished.”

Crack.

The whip struck again, and I screamed louder than I thought possible. The raw muscle of my back felt like it was being torn apart, every lash sending waves of excruciating pain through my body. The skinless flesh burned with every strike, the cool air only intensifying the agony as the whip left deep, stinging welts across the exposed muscle.

Crack.

Another lash, and another scream tore from my throat. I could feel my body shaking violently, my mind slipping in and out of awareness as the pain became too much to bear. Every inch of my back throbbed with unbearable agony, the muscles twitching uncontrollably as the lashes continued to rain down.

Crack.

The tenth lash struck, and I felt my mind begin to slip again. The pain was too much, my body unable to cope with the constant, searing agony. I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I tried to hold on, but the darkness crept in once more.

And I passed out again.

Salt water splashed across my back, jolting me back to consciousness with a scream. The stinging sensation was unbearable, every nerve in my body screaming in protest as the salt seeped into the raw, exposed flesh. My muscles twitched violently, the pain overwhelming every sense as I gasped for breath, tears streaming down my face.

“Don’t pass out on us, Mary,” the Whip Master taunted, his voice full of cruel amusement. “We’ve still got ten more to go.”

Crack.

The whip tore across my back again, and I screamed, my body convulsing with each new lash. The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced, beyond anything I could have imagined. My skinless back throbbed with every strike, the muscles burning as the whip left deep, stinging welts across the raw flesh.

Crack.

Another lash. Another scream.

The crowd was wild now, their cheers and laughter filling the air as they watched me suffer. They shouted cruel taunts, urging the Whip Master to strike harder, deeper, to make me bleed even more. Their excitement grew with every lash, their voices a twisted chorus of sadistic pleasure.

Crack.

The final lash struck, and I felt my body give out completely. My muscles twitched violently, the pain too much to bear as I collapsed against the restraints, my body trembling uncontrollably. My vision blurred, my mind spinning...

Let’s continue from where we left off. The whipping has ended, leaving Mary’s back raw, exposed, and writhing in unbearable agony. Now, the Flay Master will resume his methodical work, peeling away the remaining skin from Mary’s body. We’ll move through the rest of her chest, arms, and remaining areas as the slow and painful flaying is completed.

The pain from the whipping had left me in a state of shock, my body trembling uncontrollably as I lay bound to the table. My back was a throbbing, searing mass of exposed muscle, each breath sending new waves of agony through my body. My mind struggled to stay focused, the intensity of the pain threatening to drag me into unconsciousness once again.

But there was no escape.

The Flay Master wasn’t finished.

He returned to the table, his expression as calm and detached as ever. His hands reached for the sharp skinning tools, each one gleaming under the dim light, ready to continue their cruel work. I could hear the crowd murmuring in anticipation, their eyes fixed on me, eager to see the rest of my body stripped bare.

I whimpered, my voice barely a whisper, as the Flay Master approached me once more. The pain from the whipping still lingered, a constant burning sensation that radiated through my entire body. But I knew the worst was still to come.

The Flay Master positioned himself beside me, his cold eyes focused on my chest. He made two long, deliberate cuts around my breasts, the blade slicing through the remaining skin with surgical precision. The pain was sharp and immediate, a fresh wave of agony that sent my body into convulsions. I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I fought to stay conscious, but the pain was overwhelming.

Slowly, methodically, the Flay Master began to peel away the skin from my chest and breasts, starting with the nipples, then the areola, then the skin around my breasts.

The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The cool air hit the exposed muscle beneath, intensifying the pain as the skin was torn away in one large sheet. My body twitched uncontrollably, the raw flesh burning with every movement. I could feel every inch of the skin being peeled back, the slow, methodical process dragging out my suffering.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices full of cruel excitement as they watched the skin being removed. The assistants grinned, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they held up the sheet of my skin for the crowd to see. I could hear their taunts, their laughter, but the pain consumed me, leaving no room for anything else.

My chest and breasts now fully exposed, the raw muscle glistening under the lights. The pain was unbearable, my entire body throbbing with agony as the Flay Master moved to my arms. He made two long cuts along each arm, starting at my shoulders and working his way down to my wrists. The blade sliced through the skin with precision, leaving deep, burning wounds in its wake.

I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body, my chest heaving as the pain overwhelmed me. My arms twitched violently as the Flay Master began to peel away the skin, the sensation of the flesh being torn from my body sending fresh waves of agony through every nerve.

The sheet of skin was removed slowly, the Flay Master taking his time to ensure that every inch of my arm was peeled away in one large piece. My muscles burned, the exposed flesh throbbing with pain as the cool air hit the open wounds. The assistants held up the sheets of my skin for the crowd to see, their laughter filling the room as they reveled in my torment.

But the Flay Master wasn’t finished.

He moved to my stomach, making long, deliberate cuts across my belly. The blade pressed against my skin, and I gasped, my body convulsing as the sharp edge sliced through the remaining flesh. The pain was sharp and immediate, a deep, searing agony that left me gasping for breath.

Slowly, the Flay Master began to peel away the skin from my stomach.

The cool air hit the exposed muscle, intensifying the pain as the skin was pulled away in one large sheet. My body twitched violently, the raw flesh burning with every movement as the Flay Master continued his methodical work. I could feel every inch of the skin being torn from my body, the slow, deliberate process dragging out my suffering to its fullest extent.

The crowd roared with approval, their voices full of excitement as they watched my skin being removed. The assistants grinned, holding up the large sheet of skin for the crowd to see, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they reveled in my suffering.

I could barely breathe, my chest heaving as the pain consumed me. My entire body was on fire, every nerve screaming in protest as the raw, exposed muscle throbbed with pain. But the worst was yet to come.

The Flay Master moved to my legs, making two long cuts from the tops of my thighs down to my ankles. The blade sliced through the skin with ease, the pain sharp and immediate as the flesh was torn open. My legs twitched uncontrollably, the exposed muscle burning with every movement as the Flay Master peeled away the skin in one large sheet.

The process was slow, excruciatingly slow, each inch of skin being peeled back with deliberate care. My legs throbbed with pain, the raw flesh burning as the cool air hit the open wounds. I could feel the blood pooling beneath me, the stinging sensation adding to the overwhelming agony that consumed my body.

The crowd cheered louder now, their excitement growing with every new sheet of skin that was peeled away. I could hear their cruel taunts, their laughter, but the pain was too much to bear. My mind was slipping, the darkness creeping in as I struggled to hold on.

But the Flay Master wasn’t done yet.

He made the final cuts around my neck and shoulders, his hands steady as he prepared to peel away the last remaining piece of skin—my face. The blade pressed against my neck, and I whimpered, my body trembling as the sharp edge sliced through the remaining flesh. The pain was sharp and immediate, a fresh wave of agony that sent my body into convulsions.

Slowly, methodically, the Flay Master began to peel away the skin from my face.

The sensation was unbearable. The skin was pulled back in one large sheet, the cool air hitting the exposed muscle beneath, intensifying the pain as the last remaining piece of my flesh was torn away. I could feel every inch of the skin being removed, the slow, deliberate process dragging out my suffering to its fullest extent.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices full of excitement as they watched the final sheet of my skin being peeled away. The assistants held up the large piece of flesh for the crowd to see, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they reveled in my torment.

I could barely breathe. My entire body throbbed with pain, every inch of my skinless flesh burning with unbearable agony. The crowd cheered, the assistants grinned, and the Flay Master stood over me, his work complete.

The delicious skin hanging in sheets on a line.

 

[thecuriousone]

Too bad the flay master did not remove the skin in one piece.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Too bad the flay master did not remove the skin in one piece.

I can't remember where, but I know I got to preferring to remove sheets of skin from the separate parts of the limbs, I wrote many stories like that back in the day.

I was on the old Avulsion.Net site which not many people seem to remember now.

 

[Loinclothslave]

I’m just trying to imagine her agony, as always it’s the victim’s perspective that excites me. This story definitely excited me, I’ll be dreaming of being flayed now. Especially being whipped after my back skin is removed, that was so incredibly, horribly erotic to my depraved kinkbrain! Then the salt water??? Omighod! I suppose in real life she’d be dead from shock by the end but it’s fantastic to imagine oneself as Mary, still alive after such awful torture. Maybe now they produce the red hot torture brands to further test her endurance!

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

I’m just trying to imagine her agony, as always it’s the victim’s perspective that excites me. This story definitely excited me, I’ll be dreaming of being flayed now. Especially being whipped after my back skin is removed, that was so incredibly, horribly erotic to my depraved kinkbrain! Then the salt water??? Omighod! I suppose in real life she’d be dead from shock by the end but it’s fantastic to imagine oneself as Mary, still alive after such awful torture. Maybe now they produce the red hot torture brands to further test her endurance!

I honestly find flaying incredibly erotic! In terms of our world here, I don't think there's anything more intimate or sensual than a slow, agonising skinning for a sexy lady! The only thing that comes close for me would be a thorough flogging all over her body. But even then, flaying is another level.

If you want me to write something similar for you or a sado-crush you like then let me know.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

I've written SO many stories of Mary being tortured over the last week, I'll share more here...

 

[Loinclothslave]

I've written SO many stories of Mary being tortured over the last week, I'll share more here...

Oh that sounds great, yes please! Maybe pop them in this thread so it’s all easy to find as well?

If you want me to write something similar for you or a sado-crush you like then let me know

That sounds very tempting, I would love that but don’t wish to be selfish.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Oh that sounds great, yes please! Maybe pop them in this thread so it’s all easy to find as well?


That sounds very tempting, I would love that but don’t wish to be selfish.

It's really not selfish at all, let me know. DM me if you prefer.

 

[Turlough]

I honestly find flaying incredibly erotic! In terms of our world here, I don't think there's anything more intimate or sensual than a slow, agonising skinning for a sexy lady! The only thing that comes close for me would be a thorough flogging all over her body. But even then, flaying is another level.

If you want me to write something similar for you or a sado-crush you like then let me know.

I agree, it is one of my fantasies for when my lovely sadistic mistresses decide that their pleasure demands my death. Flaying would be my first choice. Its extremely painful, take quite a while to perform and is vert hands on for the executioner. I have considered this ordeal in some details, equipment and procedures. How long could a guy last after being fully flayed - one hour many two. Of course blood replacement would have to be employed and a doctor should be on hand to keep me alive as long as possible. As an alternative I have considered crux, breaking, or live dissection.

Being a good loyal slave, my execution would not be punishment, it would be purely for the sadistic pleasure of my Mistresses.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Needle Gauntlet: Mary’s Perspective​

The room felt unnervingly silent, except for the faint hum of the lights overhead. I sat strapped in the padded chair, bound at the arms and legs, wearing only a small bikini bottom. My chest was bare, and I could feel the cool air from the room brushing against my exposed skin. I shifted slightly, trying to steady my breathing, but the tension in my muscles told me there would be no comfort here. Laid out in front of me was a tray of long, thin needles—shiny, sharp, and waiting. One by one, they would be inserted into my body.

But I had volunteered for this. And now, the moment had come.

The rules were simple: I would draw cards, each one revealing how many needles would be inserted next. There were 100 needles total—100 opportunities to raise donations for charity, if I could endure them all. My mind raced, struggling to grasp what it would mean to have my skin pierced 100 times. I had no control over how many needles each card would force me to take, only the control to keep drawing. I had to keep going. I had to.

The crowd around me was still, watching in silence, waiting for me to begin. The pressure was palpable. I stared down at the stack of numbered cards in front of me, my fingers trembling slightly as I reached for the first one. I couldn’t afford to overthink it; I just had to draw.

I flipped over the card.

“Eight,” the announcer called out.

Eight needles to start. My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a gentle start, but it wasn’t unbearable. I swallowed hard as the assistant moved forward with the first batch of needles, gleaming metal in their hands. My skin tingled with anticipation, my nerves already on edge as I braced for the pain.

The first needle slid into my thigh, high up near my hip. The sharp sting shot through me, and I clenched my fists, gripping the armrests as I fought to stay still. The second needle followed quickly, this time into the upper part of my left arm. Sweat was already starting to form on my brow as the pain rippled through my body, my skin tightening around the metal.

The assistant worked with steady precision, inserting needle after needle into my skin—my forearms, my legs, my chest. With every new insertion, the pain grew, spreading through me like a dull, burning ache. By the time the eighth needle was in place, just above my collarbone, my body was already reacting, my breathing shallow and rapid.

But it was only the beginning. I glanced down at the needles sticking out of my skin, small pinpricks of metal that felt like spikes digging into me. Sweat trickled down my forehead, pooling at my collarbone as I reached for the second card, dreading what it might reveal.

“Fourteen.”

Fourteen needles. My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t know if I could take it, but I couldn’t stop now. The assistant approached again, a fresh batch of needles glinting in their hand. I braced myself, trying to prepare mentally for the next wave of pain.

The first needle went into the soft skin just above my belly button. I gasped as the sharp sting radiated outward, the pain lancing through my abdomen. Sweat poured down my chest now, trickling between my breasts and down my sides. The assistant worked quickly, placing needles in my biceps, my thighs, my lower back. The pain was constant now, unrelenting. Every breath I took caused the needles to shift, amplifying the discomfort.

By the time the last of the fourteen needles was in place, my body was drenched in sweat. My armpits were soaked, and beads of moisture ran down my back, pooling at the small of my back. My skin felt tight and stretched, each needle a small, throbbing reminder of the pain I was enduring.

Twenty-two needles, and I was only just getting started.

The crowd was silent, their eyes fixed on me as I reached for the third card. My hand trembled, sweat dripping down my arms as I flipped it over.

“Twenty.”

I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped my lips. My muscles tensed involuntarily. Twenty more needles. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, but I couldn’t stop now. The assistant approached again, this time with more needles than ever. My heart raced as I braced for the onslaught of pain.

The first needle went into my shoulder, and I gasped, the sharp pain shooting down my arm. The second followed quickly, piercing the skin on my chest, just below my collarbone. I felt my body twitch involuntarily as the assistant continued, each needle adding to the burning, throbbing pain that was spreading through every inch of me.

The assistant worked swiftly, placing needles into my stomach, my calves, my thighs, and finally, my breasts. The pain was unbearable now, each needle making it harder to breathe, harder to focus. Sweat dripped down my body, soaking my bikini bottom and making my skin slick. My armpits were drenched, and the sweat pooled around the needles, stinging as it mixed with the sharp metal points embedded in my skin.

Forty-two needles. My body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending raw and exposed. I glanced down at my arms and legs, each needle protruding from my skin like tiny spikes. The fine hairs on my arms were barely visible now, pressed flat against my damp, sweaty skin. My thighs, still smooth from shaving, glistened with sweat, the small blonde hairs catching the light.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I reached for the fourth card, my breath ragged as I flipped it over.

“Fifteen.”

Fifteen more needles. I clenched my fists, bracing myself for the pain. The assistant stepped forward again, and I fought the urge to scream as the first needle pierced the skin of my forearm. The pain was sharp, immediate, and unrelenting. The next needle slid into my thigh, and I gasped, my muscles twitching involuntarily as the pain shot through me.

Needle after needle was inserted—my lower back, my belly, my shoulders. I could feel the sweat pouring down my body, pooling at the base of my spine and trickling down my legs. Every inch of me was slick with moisture, my skin stretched tight around the needles that pierced it.

Fifty-seven needles.

I could barely think now, the pain overwhelming my senses. My body trembled uncontrollably, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Sweat dripped from my chin, landing on the needles sticking out of my chest and stomach, making the metal shafts glisten in the light.

I had three more cards to go. I didn’t know if I could make it, but I had to try. I reached for the next card, my hand shaking violently as I flipped it over.

“Ten.”

The assistant didn’t hesitate. They placed the first needle in my upper thigh, and I screamed, the pain shooting through my leg like fire. The next needle went into my wrist, and I gasped, the sharp sting radiating up my arm. I could feel the sweat pouring down my face, drenching my neck and chest as the assistant continued, each needle adding to the overwhelming pain.

Sixty-seven needles.

I was barely holding on, my vision blurred with tears and sweat. My body was trembling uncontrollably, every muscle twitching as the needles shifted with every breath I took. I couldn’t think. I could barely move. But I wasn’t done yet.

I reached for the second-to-last card.

“Twelve.”

Twelve more needles. The assistant wasted no time, placing the first needle in the soft skin of my lower abdomen. I screamed again, the pain too much to bear. Needle after needle was inserted into my body—my calves, my thighs, my shoulders, my breasts. Sweat poured down my skin, soaking my bikini bottom and pooling at the base of my spine.

Seventy-nine needles.

I didn’t know if I could make it through the last round, but I had come this far. I couldn’t stop now. I reached for the final card, my hand trembling so violently that I could barely hold it.

“Twenty-one.”

The assistant stepped forward with the final batch of needles, and I braced myself for the worst. The first needle went into my stomach, just above my belly button, and I screamed, my body convulsing as the pain shot through me. The next needle pierced the skin of my thigh, and I gasped, the sharp sting radiating down my leg.

The assistant worked quickly, placing needles into my biceps, my chest, my lower back. Each new needle brought a fresh wave of pain, the sensation overwhelming me completely. My skin was slick with sweat, my muscles twitching uncontrollably as the needles shifted with every breath I took.

By the time the final needle was inserted into my upper chest, I was trembling violently, my body barely able to hold itself together.

One hundred needles.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Heat Spiral: Mary’s Perspective​

I stood in the middle of the room, my bare skin exposed to the cool air. The only thing I wore was a thin bikini bottom that clung to my hips. My chest was bare, my arms hanging loosely at my sides as I glanced around, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen. The setup was simple but unnerving—a metal chair, connected to a set of heat coils, was waiting for me.

This challenge was different from the others. It wasn’t about sharp, immediate pain like the needles. This was about something deeper, more insidious: heat. A slow, creeping burn that would build over time, testing not just my body’s endurance but my mind’s ability to withstand the escalating discomfort.

The room was dimly lit, and the metal chair sat under a single spotlight, gleaming ominously. It wasn’t yet warm to the touch, but I knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. I swallowed hard, stepping forward and sitting down. My bare skin met the cool metal surface, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I knew that soon enough, this coolness would be a distant memory.

The assistant moved forward, strapping my wrists and ankles to the armrests and footrests. I shifted slightly, testing the bonds, but they held firm. There was no turning back now.

The rules were simple: the heat would gradually increase over time. The longer I could withstand the rising temperature, the more money would be raised for charity. I could end the challenge at any time, but I knew that stopping meant walking away before I reached the full potential. I had to endure it.

I heard the faint hum as the heat coils activated, the air around me still cool for now. I took a deep breath, feeling the tension in my body as I braced for what was to come.

The first wave of warmth was barely noticeable, a gentle rise in temperature that felt more like a heated seat than anything dangerous. But I knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. This was just the beginning. I tried to relax, letting the warmth seep into my skin as I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.

For now, it wasn’t so bad. The warmth spread across my back, my shoulders, and down my arms. My thighs pressed against the metal, and I could feel the heat rising beneath them too. It was almost…comfortable. But the challenge wasn’t meant to be comfortable. I knew it would get worse.

Minutes passed, and the warmth turned to heat. My skin began to tingle, a prickling sensation spreading across my chest and stomach. I shifted slightly in the chair, feeling the bonds tighten as I moved. The metal under my thighs was growing hotter, the once-cool surface now radiating warmth against my bare skin. The heat spread slowly, like a creeping flame licking at the edges of my consciousness.

Sweat began to form on my forehead, a light sheen of moisture that I wiped away with my arm. I could feel the first hints of discomfort, my skin starting to react to the growing heat. My chest rose and fell more quickly now, my breaths shallower as the warmth turned into something more sinister.

The metal under my thighs was getting uncomfortable, the heat starting to build. I could feel the skin beneath my bikini bottom sticking to the metal, a slick layer of sweat forming. My back pressed against the chair, and I could feel the heat spreading down my spine, pooling in the small of my back. My legs were tense, the muscles tightening as the temperature rose.

The heat was no longer just warmth—it was a slow burn, a building fire that was impossible to ignore. My skin tingled, the sweat now rolling down my chest and sides, pooling at the edges of my bikini bottom. The room felt smaller, the air around me heavy and stifling. My forehead was drenched, and I could feel the sweat trickling down between my breasts, mixing with the moisture that clung to my skin.

I tried to focus on my breathing, steadying my mind as the heat increased. But it was getting harder to concentrate. My chest felt tight, the sweat soaking my skin as the metal chair beneath me grew hotter. I shifted in the seat, trying to find some relief, but the straps around my wrists and ankles held me in place.

The heat was relentless now, radiating through every inch of me. My thighs were burning, the metal searing against my skin. The sweat rolled down my body in steady streams, dripping down my back, soaking my bikini bottom and pooling at the base of my spine. My chest felt like it was on fire, the heat coils pressing against my back, sending waves of heat through me.

I bit down on my lip, fighting the urge to cry out. The heat was unbearable now, every breath I took feeling like I was inhaling fire. My arms trembled in the restraints, my skin slick with sweat as the coils continued to pump heat into me. My stomach clenched, the muscles tight and trembling as the metal beneath me radiated more heat.

The assistant approached again, adjusting the coils. The heat surged, and I gasped, the sudden rise in temperature sending shockwaves through my body. It felt like my skin was being seared from the inside out, the sweat no longer providing any relief. My entire body was drenched, my chest heaving as I struggled to keep control. My armpits were soaked, sweat running down my sides and dripping onto the floor.

The metal under my thighs was unbearable now, the burning sensation so intense that I couldn’t sit still. I squirmed in the chair, my legs twitching as the heat continued to rise. My chest burned, the sweat pouring down between my breasts and onto my stomach. My back arched involuntarily as the heat coils pressed into my spine, every nerve in my body screaming for release.

I could feel the heat on my shoulders, the metal biting into my skin as the coils pumped more and more heat into me. My hair was damp, clinging to the back of my neck as the sweat rolled down in steady streams. My legs were trembling uncontrollably, the muscles twitching as the burning sensation spread across my thighs and calves.

The sweat dripped down my legs, pooling at my ankles as the heat surged again. My arms were slick, the skin of my forearms sticking to the armrests as I clenched my fists. My chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath feeling like I was inhaling molten air.

I couldn’t stop the small cry that escaped my lips. The pain was too much now, the heat consuming every part of me. My body trembled violently, my skin slick with sweat as I fought to stay in control. But the heat was unrelenting, burning through every inch of me. My thighs, my chest, my back—everything was on fire.

The assistant stepped forward again, their hand hovering over the control panel. I knew they were watching, waiting to see if I would give in. But I wasn’t ready to quit. Not yet. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to sit still as the heat continued to rise. The pain was overwhelming, but I had to endure it. I had to.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. My body was drenched in sweat, my skin slick and burning as the heat seared through me. I could feel the fire in every breath, the burning sensation spreading from my chest to my legs to my arms. My body trembled violently, every muscle twitching as the heat coils pumped wave after wave of fire into me.

I let out another cry, my head falling back as the heat consumed me. The metal chair felt like it was melting into my skin, the burning sensation overwhelming every part of me. My body convulsed, the pain too much to bear,
I couldn’t hold back anymore. The pain tore through me like wildfire, and the scream ripped from my throat before I even realized it. My voice echoed through the room, a raw, primal sound that seemed to match the burning sensation radiating from my skin. For a split second, it felt like some kind of release—as though the scream allowed me to push back against the unbearable heat that was searing through every part of me.

But the relief was fleeting. The heat didn’t stop, didn’t pause. It kept growing, hotter and hotter, the metal coils pressing against my back and legs, burning their way into my skin. My whole body was on fire, my muscles twitching uncontrollably as sweat drenched every inch of me. My bikini bottom was soaked through, the fabric clinging to my hips, and the straps that held me down only dug deeper into my skin as I writhed against the chair.

I screamed again, louder this time, feeling the tension release for just a moment before the pain came crashing back down. My thighs burned, the metal beneath me growing hotter by the second. I could feel the heat biting into the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, the sweat making everything slick and unbearable. My legs twitched and spasmed, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t shift the burning weight pressing down on me.

My chest rose and fell in short, rapid bursts, each breath like inhaling molten air. My back arched involuntarily as the coils pressed into my spine, sending waves of agony through my body. I could feel the heat radiating from every inch of the chair now, my skin sticking to the metal as the sweat poured from me. My hair clung to my neck and forehead, damp and matted, and the sweat dripping between my breasts made the burning sensation even worse.

I clenched my fists, the straps around my wrists biting into my skin as I pulled against them. The metal under my thighs was unbearable now, the heat so intense that I could feel it deep in my muscles, the burn spreading through my body like a slow, creeping fire. My calves were trembling, the muscles tensing and releasing as the heat surged again, radiating through my legs.

Another scream burst from my throat, my body jerking violently as the pain intensified. My stomach muscles clenched, the sweat rolling down in steady streams, pooling at my navel and running down to my bikini bottom. The metal beneath me felt like it was branding my skin, the burning sensation growing with every passing second.

I could feel my entire body trembling, my muscles twitching uncontrollably as the heat continued to rise. My chest burned, the sweat pouring down between my breasts and soaking my sides. My armpits were drenched, the sweat dripping down my arms, making the restraints slippery. I tried to pull my arms away, but the straps held me firmly in place, forcing me to endure the heat that was searing through me.

My vision blurred as tears mixed with the sweat running down my face. I screamed again, the sound raw and desperate, my body convulsing as the heat surged once more. My legs kicked against the restraints, my toes curling as the burning sensation spread through my thighs and calves. The sweat dripping down my legs only made it worse, amplifying the searing pain as my skin stuck to the metal beneath me.

I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. The heat was relentless, unyielding. My body felt like it was being cooked from the inside out, every nerve ending on fire. My back arched again, my muscles tensing as the pain wracked through me, and I let out another scream, the sound muffled by the sheer intensity of the heat.

My skin was slick with sweat, every inch of me soaked as the heat continued to rise. The metal coils pressed into my back, sending waves of burning pain down my spine. My shoulders felt like they were melting, the sweat pooling at the base of my neck and running down my chest. My thighs burned, the heat biting into the soft skin, and I could feel my muscles twitching uncontrollably.

The assistant approached once more, their hand hovering over the controls. I knew what that meant—the heat was about to rise again. My breath hitched, panic flooding my mind as I braced for the next surge.

I screamed before the heat even hit.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Heat Spiral: Mary’s Perspective (Continued)​

It didn’t matter. When the coils activated again, the pain went from unbearable to incomprehensible. The heat surged through me, and I could feel it deep in my bones. My skin was burning, every inch of me on fire, and I couldn’t stop the screams that poured from my throat. I threw my head back, my body shaking violently as I writhed in the chair, trying desperately to escape the heat that was consuming me.

My thighs burned, the metal beneath me searing into my skin. My bikini bottom felt like it was sticking to my body, the fabric soaked through with sweat. My chest heaved, my stomach muscles contracting as the pain shot through me. My back was arched, the heat coils pressing into my spine, sending shockwaves of pain through every part of me.

I screamed again, my voice cracking as the pain overwhelmed me. My legs twitched and spasmed, my toes curling as the heat surged through my calves and thighs. The sweat pouring down my body only made it worse, every drop amplifying the burning sensation that had taken over my skin.

The straps around my wrists and ankles felt like they were cutting into me, the sweat making them slick but the heat locking me in place. I pulled against them, my muscles trembling as I tried to find some kind of relief, but there was no escape. The heat was everywhere, inside and out, consuming me whole.

I gasped for air, my breath coming in ragged bursts as the heat continued to rise. My chest felt tight, the air thick with the oppressive weight of the heat pressing down on me. My back arched again, the pain unbearable as the coils pressed deeper into my skin. My arms trembled, the sweat rolling down my sides, dripping onto the floor below.

The assistant was watching me closely, but I could barely focus. The heat was too much now, too intense. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it, but I couldn’t stop. I had to keep going. I had to.

I screamed again, louder than before, my body convulsing as the heat surged once more. My skin was on fire, every inch of me burning as the metal coils pumped wave after wave of heat into me. The sweat poured from my body, my skin slick and glistening under the dim lights. My thighs, my chest, my back—everything was on fire.

My voice cracked as I let out another scream, my body trembling violently in the restraints. The heat was too much, too overwhelming, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give up now. Not when I had come this far.

The heat was everywhere now, burning through me like a living thing, coiling itself around every inch of my body. My mind felt distant, struggling to keep up with the relentless waves of pain. My skin was slick with sweat, but it wasn’t enough to stop the burning. If anything, it made it worse—my body felt trapped between the searing metal beneath me and the oppressive heat above.

Another scream tore from my throat, raw and hoarse. It was automatic now, the only release I had left. The air was thick, stifling, every breath feeling like I was inhaling fire. My chest heaved, my muscles tense as the sweat poured from my body, dripping off my arms, legs, and face in a steady stream.

But then, a new sensation hit me—one I hadn’t anticipated. It started as a faint, almost metallic scent in the air, something just on the edge of perception. And then it grew stronger. The smell of burning skin.

My skin.

I had read about it before—how extreme heat could singe the outer layers of skin, leaving behind a smell that was unmistakable. It was acrid, sharp, a mix of burnt hair and flesh that filled the air around me. The coils beneath me had become so hot that they were starting to leave their mark, branding the soft skin of my thighs, back, and arms. The places where my skin made direct contact with the metal felt like they were on fire.

I could smell it more clearly now, and it was sickening. The scent mixed with the salt of my sweat, creating a thick, oppressive atmosphere. My stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising as the reality of what was happening to my body hit me.

But the heat didn’t stop.

My legs jerked involuntarily, the muscles twitching as the burning sensation deepened. The coils beneath me felt like they were melting into my skin, the searing pain spreading from the points of contact. The sweat dripping down my body only seemed to make it worse, intensifying the heat as it pooled at the base of my spine, trickling down my inner thighs.

My back was arching again, my spine bowing away from the chair in a desperate attempt to escape the searing heat. But the straps held me in place, forcing my skin against the blistering metal. I could feel the sweat pouring down my face, running into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision. My hair was damp, sticking to the back of my neck, and the burning smell was overpowering now, almost suffocating.

Another scream tore from my throat, louder this time, the pain so intense that I could barely breathe. My chest heaved, my muscles trembling as I fought to stay conscious. My entire body felt like it was being consumed by the heat, every nerve ending on fire. I could feel the burn deep in my bones now, not just on the surface of my skin. It was as if the heat was sinking into me, becoming part of me.

I was slipping.

The assistant stepped forward, watching me closely. I could see their hand hovering near the control panel, ready to increase the heat again. I knew they were waiting, waiting to see if I could take it, if I would break.

And for the first time, I wondered if I could.

My skin was burning. The smell was everywhere, the sharp, acrid scent of singed flesh filling the room. I could feel it clinging to my body, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. My muscles twitched uncontrollably, my body drenched in sweat, but none of it mattered. The heat was relentless.

Another surge of heat hit me, and this time, it felt like my skin was peeling away from the metal. I screamed, the sound so loud and raw that it echoed off the walls, bouncing back at me. My vision blurred again, tears mixing with the sweat running down my face. My arms jerked against the restraints, the skin slick with sweat, but I couldn’t break free. The straps were too tight, locking me in place.

I couldn’t escape the heat.

I clenched my teeth, biting down so hard that I could taste blood. My legs were trembling violently, the muscles spasming as the coils beneath me continued to pump heat into my skin. My thighs were burning, the searing pain so intense that I thought I might pass out. But I couldn’t. I had to stay awake. I had to endure it.

The smell was unbearable now. Every breath I took was filled with the scent of burning flesh, my flesh. I could feel it seeping into my lungs, coating my throat with the acrid taste. My skin was blistering where it touched the metal, the sweat hissing and evaporating almost instantly as it made contact with the hot surface.

Another scream ripped from my throat, my body convulsing against the chair as the heat surged again. I couldn’t control it anymore—my body was acting on its own, fighting against the restraints, against the pain. My back arched, my stomach muscles tightening as I tried to pull away from the chair, but it was no use. The heat was everywhere, consuming me.

I let out another scream, my voice hoarse and broken. My skin felt like it was peeling away, the burning sensation so intense that I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the pain. My arms trembled violently, the sweat rolling down in thick streams as I writhed in the chair.

The assistant stepped forward again, their hand lingering over the control panel. I knew what was coming. Another surge of heat. I could barely breathe, my chest tight, my lungs feeling like they were on fire.

And then it came. The next wave.

The heat exploded through me, and I screamed louder than I ever had before. My body convulsed, the pain too much to bear. My skin was burning, searing, blistering where it touched the metal. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room, thick and choking, and I thought I might vomit from the intensity of it.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I had reached my limit.

The heat surged through my body one final time, and I screamed—a sound so raw and primal that it felt like it was coming from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I had never touched before. My body convulsed, muscles spasming uncontrollably as I writhed in the chair, desperately trying to escape the unbearable pain.

My mind was slipping, the edges of my vision darkening as the room seemed to spin around me. I was drenched in sweat, my skin slick and burning where it pressed against the metal chair. The smell of burnt flesh was overpowering now, making it almost impossible to breathe. Each breath felt like I was inhaling smoke, the acrid taste of my own burning skin filling my lungs.

And then, everything stopped.

I wasn’t sure if the heat had been turned off or if my mind had simply shut down from the intensity, but the pain lessened. The coils were still hot, still searing against my skin, but the unbearable, all-consuming heat that had been building and building finally reached a plateau. My body relaxed—only slightly—against the restraints, my muscles still twitching involuntarily, but the convulsions were slowing down.

I took a ragged breath, my chest heaving as I tried to get air into my lungs. The assistant was moving around me, checking the controls, but I could barely focus. My mind was hazy, clouded by the pain and exhaustion. I wasn’t even sure how long I had been in the chair. Time had become meaningless.

The straps around my wrists and ankles were loosened, and I felt the cool air of the room hit my skin for the first time in what felt like hours. The contrast between the heat of the chair and the cool air was almost shocking, and I shivered despite the searing pain that still radiated from my body. My skin was tender and raw, sensitive to every small movement as I slowly, shakily stood up from the chair.

I swayed on my feet, my legs trembling beneath me. The metal had left angry red marks on my thighs, back, and arms—places where the skin had been pressed against the burning surface for too long. I could still feel the heat pulsing through me, as if my body hadn’t yet realized that the torture was over.

The assistant handed me a towel, and I wiped the sweat from my face and chest. Every movement was a reminder of what I had just endured, the soreness in my muscles making even the smallest motions painful. The towel was rough against my raw skin, and I winced as it brushed against the places where the heat had left its mark.

I glanced down at my legs, noticing the faint burns where the metal had been in direct contact with my skin. They weren’t severe, but they were there—a reminder of the heat I had withstood. My thighs were trembling uncontrollably, the muscles twitching from the strain of being held in place against the burning surface for so long.

I let out a shaky breath, the cool air drying the remaining sweat on my skin. The challenge was over. I had done it. Somehow, I had survived.

The crowd was still there, watching in silence. I could feel their eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet their gaze. My body was too exhausted, my mind too frayed. The adrenaline that had kept me going was starting to wear off, leaving only the raw, pulsing pain that lingered in every part of me.

I sat down on a bench near the edge of the room, my legs barely able to hold me up any longer. The assistant brought over a glass of water, and I sipped it slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe my parched throat. The taste of salt still clung to my lips, the remnants of the sweat that had poured from me during the challenge.

The reality of what I had just endured started to sink in. The heat, the pain, the burning—it had all felt endless in the moment, but now it was over. The chair was empty, the coils cooling down, and I was free.

I had pushed my body to the limit, and though I had screamed, though I had convulsed and broken down, I had made it. I had endured.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Saltwater Scourge: Mary’s Perspective​

I stood with my arms and legs bound, the cold metal cuffs biting into my wrists and ankles. My skin glistened with sweat, even before the challenge had begun, as the anticipation of what was coming made my heart race. The Whip Master stood behind me, the whip coiled in his hand, waiting for the signal. I could feel the tension in the air, the quiet before the storm.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the first strike.

Crack.

The whip lashed across my back, and I gasped as the pain exploded through me. The force of the blow made my body jerk forward, but the restraints held me in place. My skin burned where the whip had struck, the sharp sting radiating from my shoulders down to my spine. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to focus, tried to keep myself steady.

Crack.

The second lash was harder, cutting across my lower back. My breath hitched as I felt the skin tear, the pain sharp and immediate. Sweat poured down my face and chest, mingling with the blood that now oozed from the open wounds on my back. My thighs trembled, my body instinctively trying to flinch away from the blows, but there was nowhere to go.

The Whip Master didn’t stop.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Each lash was more painful than the last, the whip striking across my back and shoulders with brutal precision. The heat from the pain was already making me sweat, the moisture dripping down my arms and legs. I could feel my skin tearing with each blow, the raw welts burning as the blood began to flow freely.

Then the whip struck my thighs.

Crack.

The pain was different here, more intense. The skin on the back of my thighs was more sensitive, and the lashes left deep, stinging welts that made my legs tremble uncontrollably. My breath came in short, ragged bursts as the whipping continued, the pain overwhelming every part of me.

Crack. Another lash across my thighs. My knees nearly buckled from the force of the blow, but the restraints kept me standing, my body trembling as I fought to stay upright.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

By the time the whipping ended, my back and thighs were on fire. My skin was raw, the blood from the welts mixing with the sweat that now covered every inch of my body. I could feel the heat radiating from my wounds, the pain sharp and unrelenting. My muscles were trembling from the effort of holding myself steady, but I knew this was only the beginning.

The wheel started to turn.

Slowly, my body was rotated into position, the metal frame keeping me suspended as the first blast of steam hit me. The scalding heat enveloped my skin, and I let out a scream as the steam seeped into the open lash marks on my back. The heat was unbearable, the moisture from the steam intensifying the burning pain in my wounds. I could feel the blisters forming where the steam hit hardest, the sweat pouring down my body in thick, heavy streams.

The wheel turned again, and I braced myself for the next blast.

This time, it was icy cold.

The saltwater hit my skin with the force of a wave, the cold offering a brief, fleeting moment of relief. But then the salt seeped into the lash marks, and the stinging pain was worse than anything I had ever felt. My body convulsed as the saltwater hit my open wounds, the pain so intense that I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.

The wheel rotated slowly, methodically, ensuring that no part of my body was spared. My back, my thighs, my shoulders—all of it was exposed to the alternating blasts of scalding steam and icy saltwater. Each turn brought a new wave of pain, the steam burning my skin and the saltwater seeping into the open wounds, causing them to sting and throb.

My body was drenched in sweat, the moisture mixing with the blood that oozed from my welts. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, the steam making it harder and harder to breathe. My skin felt raw, blistered, and stinging from the salt that had worked its way into every tear, every cut. The sweat rolled down my body, soaking my skin and making the pain worse with every movement.

The wheel turned again, and I knew what was coming.

Another blast of steam.

The heat was unbearable. The steam hit my back and shoulders, searing my skin and causing the blisters to burst. I screamed again, my body shaking uncontrollably as the pain consumed me. The sweat poured from me now, my entire body slick and glistening under the dim lights of the chamber. My skin felt like it was melting, the heat burning through me as the steam continued to rise.

The wheel turned, and the saltwater came again.

The cold hit me first, but the relief was short-lived. The salt seeped into my skin, the stinging pain making my muscles tense and twitch. My back felt like it was on fire, the saltwater burning into the raw welts left by the whip. My thighs throbbed with pain, the saltwater stinging the open wounds, making it impossible to move without agony.

The wheel continued to turn, and with each rotation, the pain intensified. The steam burned my skin, the saltwater stung my wounds, and the constant rotation made it impossible to escape the torment. My body was slick with sweat, my muscles trembling as I fought to keep myself steady, but the pain was overwhelming.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Saltwater Scourge: Mary’s Perspective Part II​

The metal restraints bit into my wrists and ankles, holding me firmly in place as the wheel slowly rotated. My skin was already on fire from the initial whipping across my back and thighs. The raw welts stung, the blood mixing with the sweat that drenched my body. The intense heat from the scalding steam made my skin slick, the moisture clinging to me as I gasped for air. The saltwater had already seeped into the wounds, making every inch of my body burn with stinging pain.

But the worst part was knowing that with every full rotation of the wheel, more lashes were coming. And this time, they wouldn't just be across my back—they’d strike my front as well.

The wheel completed its first slow, agonizing turn, bringing me full circle. My back had just endured another blast of steam, and my skin felt like it was blistering, the welts throbbing from the saltwater’s sting. I tried to brace myself, but the whipping came faster than I expected.

Crack.

The first lash struck across my chest, the pain exploding through me. I cried out, my body jerking involuntarily as the whip tore across my skin, leaving a deep, raw welt. My breasts and stomach were fully exposed to the strike, and the skin was already so sensitive from the heat and salt that the pain was unbearable.

Crack.

The second lash came down harder, this time across my stomach. The force of the blow left me gasping for breath, my muscles twitching as I fought to stay steady. The sweat on my skin mixed with the blood from the lashes, and the salt from earlier still stung, making each strike feel like fire spreading through my body.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The lashes continued, each one more brutal than the last. My chest, stomach, and thighs were a mess of welts, the skin torn and bleeding. My body shuddered with each new blow, the pain so intense that I couldn’t stop the small cries that escaped my lips. The wheel rotated again, slowly, giving me no time to recover before the next wave of agony began.

As the wheel turned, I felt my front being exposed to the steam.

The scalding heat hit my bare skin, and I screamed as the moisture intensified the pain from the welts. My chest and stomach felt like they were on fire, the steam searing into the open wounds left by the whip. Sweat poured down my face and chest, dripping into the lash marks and making them sting even more. My legs trembled as the wheel continued its slow rotation, bringing me closer to the next blast of saltwater.

The icy water hit me with the force of a wave, drenching my body and offering a brief, fleeting relief. But the salt quickly worked its way into the raw, exposed skin, and the stinging pain that followed was like nothing I’d ever experienced. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, the pain too much to bear. The saltwater burned where the whip had torn into me, and my skin felt like it was being torn apart from the inside.

Another rotation. Another ten lashes.

Crack.

This time, the whip struck across my back, the familiar, searing pain radiating through my shoulders and down my spine. The welts on my back were already raw from the initial whipping, and each new strike sent shockwaves of pain through my body.

Crack.

Another lash across my lower back, the force of the blow nearly making my knees buckle beneath me. The wheel turned slowly, keeping me suspended, and I struggled to keep my balance. My body was slick with sweat, my muscles trembling from the strain of holding myself upright as the whip continued to tear into my back.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The lashes came in quick succession now, the whip striking across my back, shoulders, and thighs. The pain was relentless, each strike deepening the welts and tearing the skin even further. My back was a mess of raw flesh and blood, and the sweat pouring from my body only made it worse. Every movement caused the lash marks to sting, the salt still burning in the open wounds.

The wheel completed another rotation, and the scalding steam blasted my back once again. The blisters burst under the heat, and I let out a scream as the pain overwhelmed me. My skin was burning, the steam seeping into the open wounds and making the pain spread through every inch of my body.

The wheel turned again, and I braced myself for the next round of lashes. This time, they would strike my front once more.

Crack.

The whip lashed across my chest, the pain so intense that I felt my entire body convulse. The welts on my chest and stomach were deep and raw, and the fresh strike only made the pain worse. My skin was torn and bleeding, the saltwater from earlier still stinging where the whip had struck.

Crack.

Another lash across my stomach, and I let out a ragged sob as the pain consumed me. My body trembled, my legs shaking as I fought to stay upright. The rotation of the wheel kept me suspended, but the weight of the pain was dragging me down, making it harder and harder to keep going.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The lashes continued, tearing into my skin with brutal force. My body was covered in welts, the blood and sweat mixing on my skin, making it slick and painful to move. The wheel turned, and I knew that the next blast of steam was coming.

This time, it was worse than before.

The steam hit my front, the heat searing into the open lash marks on my chest and stomach. My skin felt like it was melting, the blisters bursting under the heat and causing a fresh wave of agony to spread through my body. My breasts, already raw from the whipping, burned under the steam, and the sweat only made the pain worse.

I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I tried to focus, tried to endure. But the pain was too much. My skin was on fire, my muscles trembling uncontrollably as the wheel continued to turn.

The next blast of saltwater came, and the cold was a brief relief before the salt began to sting again. The icy water hit my front, soaking my skin and seeping into the open wounds. The salt burned where the whip had torn my flesh, and I let out a desperate scream as the pain overwhelmed me.

But the wheel didn’t stop.

With every full rotation, another ten lashes. Another round of steam. Another blast of saltwater. The pain was unrelenting, each rotation pushing me further and further beyond my limits. My body was trembling violently, my skin raw and bleeding, but I couldn’t stop. I had to endure.

Crack. Another lash across my back.

The wheel turned again.

Crack. Another lash across my front.

My body convulsed, my mind slipping as the pain consumed me. But I couldn’t give up. Not yet.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Saltwater Scourge: Mary’s Perspective Part III​

The wheel continued its slow, agonizing turn, each rotation bringing a fresh wave of torment. My body felt like it was on fire, every inch of my skin burning from the scalding steam and stinging saltwater. The whipping, alternating between my front and back, had left me a trembling, bleeding wreck. Sweat poured from my skin, pooling at my feet and mixing with the blood that dripped from my open welts.

I couldn’t stop the screams that tore from my throat.

At first, they were small gasps—cries of pain that escaped with each lash, each blast of steam. But as the wheel continued to turn and the pain built to unbearable levels, I couldn’t hold back anymore. The screams came louder, more desperate, echoing off the chamber walls as my body convulsed with each fresh strike.

Crack.

Another lash across my chest, and I screamed so loudly that I thought my throat might tear. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, and the scream just kept coming. I screamed until the veins in my neck bulged, my body shaking as the sound ripped through me. It was the only release I had, the only way to push back against the agony that consumed me.

But the wheel didn’t stop. The pain didn’t stop.

Crack.

The whip struck my back, the welts deepening as the force of the blow sent a fresh wave of pain through my shoulders. I let out another scream, this time louder, more desperate. My body was trembling uncontrollably, my muscles twitching as I tried to adjust my position, but the restraints held me in place. The saltwater dripped from my skin, the icy cold stinging the raw welts where the whip had struck, and I could feel the salt burning deep into my wounds.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

"Please!" I begged, my voice hoarse and broken. "Please, stop! I can’t take it!"

The assistants said nothing. The Whip Master didn’t hesitate.

Crack.

Another lash, this time across my thighs. My legs buckled beneath me, and I screamed again, my voice cracking as the pain overwhelmed me. The whip tore into the tender flesh of my legs, and I could feel the blood running down, mixing with the sweat that poured from my skin. My mind was slipping, the pain too much to handle. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus.

"Please," I begged again, my voice shaking. "Please, stop. I'll do anything."

I knew there was no stopping this. They wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I begged. But in my desperation, I tried to negotiate, tried to find some way out of the relentless agony.

"If you stop... if you stop this... you can take it," I gasped, the words barely making it out between ragged breaths. "You can take a slice... of my skin. Use the wire... just stop this!"

The wheel turned again, the metal creaking beneath me as the next blast of scalding steam hit my back. I screamed as the heat seared into my open welts, the blisters bursting under the intense heat. My skin felt like it was melting, and the sweat only made the pain worse. I was shaking violently now, my body barely able to keep up with the relentless torture.

Crack.

Another lash, this time across my stomach. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, the saltwater from the earlier blast still stinging my wounds. I could feel the sweat running down my legs, soaking the welts on my thighs and making every movement agony.

But the assistants paused for a moment. I could see them glancing at each other, as if considering my desperate offer.

The Whip Master stepped forward, a cold smile on his face. "You want to trade the whipping for something else, do you?" His voice was low, cruel. "You’ll take the chicken wire instead?"

I nodded weakly, my body trembling. "Please... just stop this."

He paused, as if considering my plea, and then nodded to the assistants. They stepped forward, uncoiling the chicken wire from a nearby table. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched them approach, knowing what was coming but desperate for any kind of relief from the endless whipping and steam.

They stretched the wire tightly around my thigh, pulling it so tight that my skin bulged through the small gaps. My breath hitched in my throat as I felt the sharp metal bite into my skin, the pressure unbearable.

"One slice for your deal," the Whip Master said coldly. "Let’s see if you still think it’s worth it."

The assistants took out a sharp knife, carefully pressing it beneath one of the patches of skin that bulged through the wire. The pain was immediate, sharp, as they cut under the skin, peeling it slowly away from my thigh. I let out a scream as the blade sliced through me, the sharp sting unlike anything I had felt before. It was worse than the whipping, worse than the steam, but I had no choice but to endure it.

The knife slid down the edges of the wire, cutting a perfect square of my skin, which the assistants then peeled away, revealing the raw, bleeding flesh beneath. My body convulsed, the pain so intense that I thought I might pass out.

But it wasn’t over.

The Whip Master held the slice of skin up for me to see, a grim reminder of the deal I had made. "You’ve made your trade, Mary," he said. "But this doesn’t end. Not yet."

And with that, the wheel turned again.

Crack.

The whip struck my back, and I screamed again, my body jerking as the pain overwhelmed me. The skin on my thigh throbbed where the wire had cut into me, the fresh wound burning as the sweat and saltwater seeped into it. My mind was slipping further, the pain too much to process, but I knew there was no escape.

The deal had been made. The torture would continue.

The wheel turned, the scalding steam blasting my skin once again, followed by the icy sting of saltwater. My body was on fire, my mind consumed by the relentless waves of agony. I screamed until my throat was raw, my voice cracking as I begged for mercy that would never come.

But deep down, I knew—there was no stopping this.

No matter what I traded, no matter how much I begged, the pain would continue. My body was theirs to torment, to break, and I could do nothing but endure.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Crucible Rotator: Mary’s Perspective​

I was strapped tightly to the rotating wheel, my body exposed to the unforgiving air in the chamber. My wrists and ankles were secured with cold, metal restraints, holding me in place as the wheel slowly turned, its creaking sound filling the silent room. The platform above me was tilted, a series of metallic pipes stretching down into two large basins—one filled with scalding hot water, the other with freezing ice water.

Sweat was already beginning to form on my skin as I anticipated what was coming. I could feel the tension in the air, the cruel eyes of the crowd upon me. The Whip Master stood nearby, whip coiled in his hand, a twisted smile curling on his lips as he observed my trembling body. The assistants stood by the control panel, waiting for the moment to begin the torment.

"Let’s see how long you can last this time, Mary," the Whip Master said softly, his voice carrying a mocking tone. The crowd murmured in agreement, eager for the spectacle to begin.

The wheel rotated slowly, and I was dipped toward the first basin. The scalding hot water rippled below me, steam rising as I drew closer to its surface. My heart pounded in my chest, every muscle in my body tensing as the heat radiated up toward me.

Then, the water made contact.

I screamed as the scalding water hit my skin, burning me instantly. The heat seared into my flesh, and I thrashed against the restraints, my body writhing as the pain consumed me. The water covered my chest, stomach, and thighs, blistering my skin with every second I was submerged. My soft, delicate arm hairs curled under the heat, barely visible as they shriveled away.

The crowd roared with satisfaction as my screams echoed through the chamber, my veins bulging in my neck as I struggled to breathe through the agony.

"That’s it, Mary!" someone from the crowd shouted. "Scream for us!"

The wheel rotated again, lifting me from the scalding water and into the air. My body trembled violently, the burns throbbing with intense pain as the cool air hit my blistered skin. I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I tried to steady myself, but the pain was too much. I could already feel my muscles giving out, the weight of the suffering dragging me down.

But the wheel didn’t stop.

It turned again, lowering me toward the second basin—the freezing ice water. My heart raced, and I braced myself for the sudden shock of cold, knowing that the change in temperature would only add to the torment. The icy water hit my skin, and I let out another scream, my body convulsing as the freezing cold bit into my burns and blisters. My muscles seized up instantly, my body locking in place as the cold seeped deep into my bones.

The assistants watched with satisfaction as my body twitched uncontrollably, the freezing water only intensifying the pain from the burns. My skin felt like it was cracking under the pressure, the sharp contrast between the hot and cold creating unbearable agony.

"Look at her struggle," one of the assistants said with a smirk, their eyes fixed on my trembling form. "She can’t handle it."

The wheel rotated once more, bringing me back up into the air. My skin felt raw and torn, the blistered burns from the hot water now swollen and cracked from the freezing cold. Sweat mixed with the moisture from the water, dripping down my body as the wheel slowly came to a stop.

I hung there for a moment, gasping for breath, my muscles trembling as I tried to recover from the alternating torture. But there was no time to rest. The Whip Master stepped forward, his whip uncoiling as he prepared for the next round.

"You know the deal, Mary," he said with a cruel smile. "Every full rotation, ten lashes."

I barely had time to brace myself before the first lash struck.

Crack.

The whip tore across my back, and I screamed again, my body jerking forward as the pain exploded through me. The lashes ripped into my already blistered skin, the burning sensation from the whip only making the pain worse. My soft, delicate arm hairs stuck to my sweaty skin, barely visible but still a reminder of my body’s vulnerability.

Crack.

Another lash, this time across my thighs. The crowd cheered as I writhed in pain, my legs trembling as the whip left deep, stinging welts across my skin.

"Please!" I begged, my voice hoarse. "Stop! I can’t—"

Crack.

The whip struck my bottom, the force of the blow nearly sending me into a convulsion. My body throbbed with pain, my skin torn and bleeding from the combined effects of the hot water, the cold, and the lashes.

The Whip Master paused for a moment, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. "Begging already, Mary?" he said softly. "Do you have something to offer us in return for a little relief?"

I knew what he meant. The option to negotiate—to trade one torment for another—was always on the table. But what could I offer that wouldn’t make the pain even worse?

I swallowed hard, my throat raw from screaming. "Please," I whispered. "I’ll... I’ll give you... a slice of my skin. Use the chicken wire. Just stop the lashes, please."

The crowd murmured with interest, and the assistants exchanged a glance. One of them stepped forward, a cold smile on their face. "A trade it is, then," they said, pulling the chicken wire from the nearby table.

They wrapped it tightly around my thigh, the metal cutting into my skin as they secured it in place. I trembled, my body already exhausted from the previous torments, but I had no choice. The wire bit into my skin, my flesh bulging through the small gaps as the assistant held a knife at the ready.

"You know the drill," the assistant said with a smirk. "One slice for a break."

I nodded weakly, my body shaking with pain and exhaustion. The knife slid beneath my skin, and I let out a guttural scream as they carefully peeled away a square of flesh. The pain was sharp and unbearable, my body convulsing as the assistant removed the slice of skin, revealing the raw, bleeding flesh beneath.

The crowd erupted in applause, their satisfaction evident as they watched me suffer.

But the break didn’t last long.

The wheel began to turn again, lowering me once more toward the scalding water. My heart raced, and I let out a desperate sob, knowing that the torture was far from over.

As the hot water hit my skin again, I screamed louder than before, my body shaking violently as the burns reignited with fresh agony. My mind was slipping, the pain too much to process, but I knew there was no escape. The wheel would keep turning, the water would keep burning, and the whip would keep striking.

And I had to endure it all.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Firebrand Crucifixion: Mary’s Perspective​

The metal frame loomed above me, cold and unforgiving. My wrists and ankles were bound tightly to the metal bars, spreading my arms and legs wide in a mockery of crucifixion. The cold metal pressed against my bare back, the chill making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I could already feel the weight of the frame pulling at my joints, my muscles straining to support my body.

The crowd gathered just beyond the glass walls of the chamber, their eyes filled with dark anticipation. They were waiting—waiting for my suffering to begin, for the pain to rip through me as I hung helplessly on the metal crucifix.

The assistants stood nearby, each holding a branding iron, the tips glowing red-hot. The heat from the irons was palpable even from a distance, making the air around me shimmer with heat. The Whip Master, standing off to the side, twirled his whip lazily, his eyes focused on me, a cold smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“Let’s begin,” he said softly, his voice carrying a tone of cruel excitement.

The first branding iron pressed against my thigh.

I screamed as the searing pain exploded through my body, the red-hot iron burning deep into my flesh. The smell of burning skin filled the chamber, thick and nauseating, as the assistant held the iron against my leg for what felt like an eternity. My body convulsed, my muscles twitching uncontrollably as the burn blistered and charred my skin.

The crowd erupted in applause, their cheers mingling with my screams.

“Good start,” one of them shouted, their voice dripping with satisfaction. “Let’s see how long she can last!”

The branding iron was pulled away, leaving a deep, angry burn across my thigh. My skin throbbed with pain, the raw, blistering flesh sending waves of agony through me with every breath. I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I tried to steady myself, but the pain was relentless.

Crack.

The whip lashed across my back, the sharp sting of the blow cutting through the burn. I screamed again, my body jerking forward as the pain radiated through me. The Whip Master didn’t wait for me to recover. Another lash struck across my bottom, and another across my shoulders. Each blow was precise, leaving deep, stinging welts that throbbed with every heartbeat.

But the branding wasn’t over.

The second iron was pressed against my chest, just below my right breast. I screamed louder this time, my voice cracking as the heat burned through my skin, leaving another charred mark across my body. The pain was unbearable, my body convulsing as the iron seared my flesh, the smell of burnt skin filling the air again.

The crowd was wild now, their cheers deafening as they watched me writhe in agony.

“Look at her squirm!” someone shouted with glee. “She’s falling apart!”

The branding iron was pulled away, and I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as the pain overwhelmed me. Sweat poured down my body in thick streams, making the burns sting even more as the moisture dripped down my skin. My legs trembled violently, the weight of the metal frame pulling at my joints, making it harder and harder to keep myself upright.

The Whip Master stepped forward, his cold eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Are you ready to give us a little more, Mary?” he asked softly, flicking the whip in his hand.

I knew what he meant. The option to negotiate was always there—if I was willing to trade. My skin, the last part of me I could still offer, was their currency of pain.

“Please,” I begged, my voice hoarse from screaming. “Take it... take my skin. Just stop... just stop.”

The assistants moved quickly, bringing out the chicken wire. They wrapped it tightly around my left arm, the pressure making my already burned skin bulge through the gaps. The heat from the branding irons had left me weak, my body trembling as the sharp wire bit into my flesh.

One of the assistants took out a knife, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. “One slice for a little break,” they said coldly, pressing the blade beneath the wire.

I braced myself for the pain, but it was worse than I imagined.

The knife slid beneath my skin, cutting along the edges of the wire. I screamed as the blade peeled away a small square of flesh, my body convulsing as the assistant pulled the slice of skin free, leaving the raw, bleeding flesh exposed. My arm throbbed with pain, my muscles twitching uncontrollably as the assistant held up the slice of my skin for the crowd to see.

“Who wants a souvenir?” the assistant called out, holding the skin aloft.

A man in the front row raised his hand, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “I’ll take it,” he said eagerly, his eyes fixed on the piece of flesh.

The assistant tossed the slice of my skin to him, and the man caught it with ease. He held it up to the light, examining it for a moment before he brought it to his mouth.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as the man took a bite of my skin, chewing slowly. His eyes never left mine, a look of sick pleasure spreading across his face as he savored the taste.

“Tender,” he said with a smirk, his voice loud enough for me to hear. “Salty... with just a hint of sweat.”

My stomach churned at the thought, my body trembling as the reality of my situation sunk in. They weren’t just here to watch me suffer—they were here to consume me, piece by piece.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The frame began to rotate, slowly tilting forward until my body was facing the ground. The weight of my own body pressed down on the burns and welts across my back, bottom, and thighs, making the pain even more unbearable.

The metal frame grew hotter as the heat from the furnace vents below intensified. My skin burned where it pressed against the metal, the heat searing into my already blistered flesh. I screamed, my body twitching violently as I tried to pull away, but the chains held me in place, forcing me to endure the unbearable heat.

The crowd cheered again, their voices full of sadistic glee as they watched me suffer.

“Keep going, Mary!” someone shouted. “You’re almost done!”

But I wasn’t. The branding wasn’t over. The heat wasn’t over. And the whip... the whip still waited.

The metal frame creaked as it rotated further, pressing my front down against the scalding-hot metal. My chest, belly, and thighs were already slick with sweat and blood, and now they blistered under the intense heat. The burning metal seared into my skin, and I screamed again, my voice raw and ragged from the endless torment. I could barely catch my breath, my chest heaving against the cruel surface of the frame.

I was completely exposed now, hanging face-down with my back arched, the weight of my body pressing my tender skin harder into the hot metal. The burns on my thighs and chest felt like they were on fire, and the welts from the whip throbbed with every heartbeat. Sweat poured from me, dripping onto the floor below as I struggled to endure the overwhelming pain.

The crowd was wild with excitement, their cheers echoing through the chamber as they watched me suffer. I could hear their cruel comments, their laughter, but the words were a blur. All I could focus on was the searing agony that consumed my body.

The Whip Master approached again, the whip uncoiling from his hand like a serpent ready to strike.

“Let’s see how much more you can take, Mary,” he said softly, his voice full of cruel amusement.

I braced myself, but there was no way to prepare for the fresh wave of pain that followed.

Crack.

The whip lashed across my exposed back, the force of the blow making my entire body convulse. I screamed louder than I thought possible, my voice breaking as the pain radiated through me. The skin on my back was already raw from the heat, and the whip only tore deeper into the welts, leaving trails of blood in its wake.

Crack.

Another lash, this time across my bottom. My legs trembled violently, the pain shooting through me like lightning. The metal frame was still growing hotter, burning deeper into my flesh with every passing second. I could smell the sickening scent of my own skin burning, and it made me gag.

Crack.

The whip struck across my thighs, and I let out a choked sob, my body jerking against the restraints. Every inch of my skin was on fire, and the weight of the frame pressed me harder into the heat, making the burns worse with each movement. I could feel the blisters bursting on my skin, the hot liquid mixing with the sweat that covered my body.

I couldn’t take much more.

“Please!” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please... stop...”

The Whip Master paused, tilting his head as he looked down at me. “Do you have something to offer us, Mary?” he asked softly, his voice dripping with mock concern.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and raw. I had nothing left to offer but my skin—my last remaining piece of dignity. But what choice did I have? The pain was too much. The heat, the whipping... it was all too much.

“Take it,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Take... my skin...”

The assistant stepped forward again, holding the chicken wire with a cruel smile. They wrapped it tightly around my upper thigh, pulling it so tight that my flesh bulged through the gaps. My skin was already blistered and burned, and the wire only made the pain worse, digging into my raw flesh.

The knife came next.

I screamed as the blade slid beneath my skin, cutting along the edges of the wire. The pain was sharp and unbearable, my body convulsing as the assistant carefully peeled away a small square of flesh. My mind was spinning, the pain too intense to process, but I could still feel the slice of my skin being pulled free.

The assistant held the slice of my skin up to the crowd, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Who wants a taste?” they called out, their voice full of cruel glee.

Another crowd member stepped forward, eager to claim the gruesome prize. The assistant handed them the slice of my skin, and I watched in horror as they examined it for a moment before bringing it to their mouth.

They chewed slowly, their eyes locked on mine as they savored the taste. “Delicious,” they said, their voice loud enough for me to hear. “A little burnt... but still tender.”

I gagged again, my stomach churning as I realized that they were enjoying this—enjoying my suffering, my pain, my very flesh. It was sickening, but there was nothing I could do. I was trapped, bound to the metal frame, forced to endure every new layer of torment they threw at me.

The frame began to rotate again, slowly lifting me back into an upright position. The relief from the heat was short-lived, as the metal had already left deep burns across my chest and thighs. My skin throbbed with pain, the blisters bursting and oozing as I hung limply in the restraints.

But the torment wasn’t over.

The assistant grabbed a fresh branding iron, the tip glowing red-hot as they approached me. My heart raced in my chest, my body trembling as I realized what was coming next.

The iron pressed against my lower back.

I screamed, my body arching forward as the searing pain shot through me. The smell of burning flesh filled the air once again, thick and nauseating, as the iron left another deep, blistering burn across my skin. The crowd roared with approval, their voices a cacophony of excitement and cruelty.

I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I tried to stay conscious. My body was shaking violently, my mind slipping in and out of awareness as the pain consumed me. I didn’t know how much more I could take. My skin was burning, my body trembling, and my mind was breaking.

But I had to endure.

The Whip Master stepped forward, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You’ve done well, Mary,” he said softly. “But we’re not finished yet.”

The whip cracked again.

And I screamed.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Flesh-Slicing Gauntlet: Mary’s Perspective​

The rack creaked beneath me as I lay strapped to its surface, my arms and legs bound tightly to the cold metal. I could feel the restraints biting into my skin, but that was nothing compared to the fear that gnawed at my stomach as I looked around the chamber. The walls were lined with eager faces—crowd members waiting for the moment when my skin would be peeled away piece by piece.

I shivered, though the room was hot. The glint of razor blades, shards of glass, and sharp knives flashed in the hands of the assistants as they prepared for my torment. The Whip Master stood nearby, his whip coiled in his hand, watching with a calm, cruel expression. I knew the whip would come later, but for now, the blades were what I had to fear.

The rack began to turn, rotating me onto my back. My chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths as I lay exposed, my skin slick with sweat that clung to my soft, dark arm hairs. The anticipation of what was coming next was unbearable. My mind raced, wondering where the first cut would be made, how deep it would go, and how much I could take before I screamed.

One of the assistants stepped forward, a gleaming shard of glass in their hand. They knelt beside me, pressing the cool edge of the glass against my arm, just below my shoulder. The blade rested there for a moment, the pressure building, and I gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the pain.

The first slice was slow.

The glass cut deep into my skin, leaving a sharp, burning trail as the assistant dragged it down the length of my arm. I gasped, my body jerking as the pain shot through me. The sting was sharp and immediate, my skin splitting open under the pressure of the glass. I could feel the blood welling up from the cut, warm and sticky as it dripped down my arm.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices full of sadistic glee as they watched the blood run down my body.

“Perfect slice,” someone called out, their voice full of cruel admiration. “Let’s see more of that!”

I whimpered, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the assistant moved to the other side of the rack. This time, they pressed the glass against my thigh, just above my knee. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but there was no escaping the pain.

The glass bit into my skin again, slicing down my thigh in one slow, deliberate motion. The pain was excruciating, and I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat as the blade left a deep, jagged wound across my leg. My body convulsed, the muscles in my legs twitching as the cut deepened, and I could feel the blood dripping onto the floor below.

The crowd cheered again, louder this time.

“More! Cut her deeper!” one of them shouted. “Let’s see how much she can bleed!”

The assistant grinned, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they stood over me. “Shall we let the crowd decide where the next cut should be?” they asked, their voice dripping with amusement.

The crowd roared in agreement, their eyes locked on me as they shouted out suggestions.

“Her stomach!”

“Her breasts!”

“Cut her face!”

I trembled in fear, my body already shaking from the pain of the first two cuts. The thought of the blade slicing into my stomach, my chest, or my face was almost too much to bear.

“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling. “Please, stop...”

The Whip Master stepped forward, his eyes cold and calculating as he looked down at me. “Do you have something to offer us, Mary?” he asked softly, the whip dangling loosely in his hand.

I knew what he meant. My skin—the only currency I had left.

“Take it,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Take a slice of my skin... just stop this.”

The assistant nodded, stepping forward with the chicken wire. They wrapped it tightly around my upper arm, pulling it so tight that my already cut and bleeding skin bulged through the small gaps. I winced, the pressure unbearable as the wire bit into my flesh.

One of the assistants took out a knife, their grin widening as they pressed the blade beneath the wire. “One slice for a little break,” they said coldly.

I screamed as the knife slid beneath my skin, cutting around the edges of the wire. The pain was sharp and excruciating, my body convulsing as they peeled away the slice of my skin, revealing the raw, bleeding flesh beneath. I could barely breathe, the pain overwhelming every part of me as I watched the assistant hold up the small square of my skin for the crowd to see.

“Who wants a souvenir?” they called out, their voice full of cruel glee.

A crowd member eagerly stepped forward, their eyes locked on the piece of my skin. “I’ll take it,” they said with a grin.

The assistant handed them the slice of my flesh, and I watched in horror as they brought it to their mouth. The crowd was silent for a moment, watching as the person chewed slowly, savoring the taste.

“Not bad,” they said, their voice loud enough for me to hear. “Tender... with a hint of sweat and blood.”

I gagged, my stomach churning as I watched them consume a piece of my own body. The horror of what was happening left me speechless, my mind reeling as I realized just how far this had gone.

But the torment wasn’t over.

The rack began to turn again, slowly rotating my body so that my back was exposed. I winced as the fresh cuts on my arm and thigh rubbed against the hard surface, sending sharp waves of pain through my body.

The assistant stepped forward again, this time with a long, sharp blade in their hand. They pressed the tip of the knife against my lower back, just above my hips, and I let out a choked sob as I felt the cold steel bite into my skin.

The blade sliced down my back, leaving a deep, stinging wound that made my entire body convulse. I screamed again, my voice breaking as the pain tore through me, my back arching against the restraints as the blood flowed freely from the wound.

The crowd cheered louder, their voices full of excitement as they watched the blood drip down my back.

“Cut her deeper!” one of them shouted. “Make her bleed!”

The assistant grinned, their hand steady as they dragged the blade down my back again, cutting deeper this time. My body twitched uncontrollably, the pain too much to bear as I let out another ragged scream.

I couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down my face, my body trembling violently as the cuts covered every inch of my exposed skin. I could feel the blood pooling beneath me, the sharp stinging of the cuts mixing with the overwhelming pain of my missing flesh.

But the rack kept turning, and the cuts kept coming.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Needle Piercing Ordeal: Mary’s Perspective​

The cold steel of the rack pressed against my back as the restraints locked my arms and legs in place, stretching them wide and leaving me completely exposed. My heart raced, and I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my forehead, slowly dripping down my face as the anticipation of what was about to come filled my mind with dread. The sharp, glinting needles were lined up on a nearby table, each one long and cruelly thin, waiting to be driven through my flesh.

The Whip Master stood to the side, his whip coiled in his hand, watching me with a cold, detached look. The assistants hovered nearby, each holding a needle, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. And the crowd, just beyond the glass walls, waited in eager anticipation, their eyes locked on me, hungry for the spectacle of my pain.

I shivered, even though the room was sweltering. The first assistant stepped forward, holding a long, thin needle between their fingers. Without a word, they grasped my left hand, pinning it against the rack. My fingers twitched, but there was no escape from what was coming.

The tip of the needle pressed against the soft flesh just under my fingernail, and I gasped, my body tensing in anticipation. The pressure built as the assistant slowly pushed the needle deeper, the sharp tip sliding under the nail with a sickening ease. The pain was immediate and intense, a sharp, burning sensation that shot through my entire hand.

I screamed, my body jerking against the restraints, but there was nowhere to go, no way to stop the needle as it was driven deeper. My fingernail felt like it was being torn apart from the inside, the pressure building until I thought it might crack. The assistant twisted the needle slightly, and I let out another scream, my vision blurring with tears.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices full of sadistic glee as they watched my suffering.

"Perfect!" one of them shouted, their voice loud and excited. "Push it deeper!"

The assistant obliged, driving the needle further until it was nearly all the way through my fingertip. My body trembled violently, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the pain consumed me. The sharp, stinging sensation radiated up my arm, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the blood rushing in my ears.

But the torment was far from over.

The Whip Master stepped forward, his whip uncoiling from his hand with a slow, deliberate motion. He circled me like a predator stalking its prey, his eyes locked on mine as I struggled to breathe through the pain.

“Let’s see if you can stay quiet through this, Mary,” he said softly, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

The whip cracked through the air, striking across my exposed chest with brutal precision. The pain was sharp and immediate, a stinging lash that tore across my skin, leaving a deep, red welt in its wake. I screamed again, my body convulsing as the whip tore through me, the pain adding to the already unbearable agony of the needle in my fingertip.

Crack.

Another lash, this time across my stomach. The force of the blow nearly knocked the wind out of me, and I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I tried to regain control. My skin burned where the whip had struck, the sharp sting radiating through my body with every breath.

Crack.

The whip struck again, this time across my thighs. The pain was overwhelming, and I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body as the tears streamed down my face.

But the needles were next.

The assistant moved to my right hand, gripping it tightly as they positioned another long needle just under my fingernail. My heart pounded in my chest, and I whimpered, trying to brace myself for the pain I knew was coming.

The needle slid in slowly, the sharp tip driving under my nail with sickening ease. I screamed again, my body jerking violently against the restraints, but there was no escaping the pain. It felt like my fingertip was being torn apart, the pressure building until I thought the nail might split.

The crowd cheered louder, their voices full of excitement as they watched the needle sink deeper into my flesh.

“Let’s see those nails come off!” someone shouted, their voice dripping with cruel amusement.

The assistant twisted the needle slightly, and I let out another ragged scream, my body shaking uncontrollably as the pain intensified. The pressure under my nail was unbearable, and I could feel the sharp, burning sensation shooting up my arm, leaving me breathless.

The Whip Master stepped forward again, his eyes cold and calculating as he raised the whip.

“Let’s see how much more you can take, Mary,” he said softly, his voice full of cruel delight.

Crack.

The whip lashed across my bottom this time, the force of the blow nearly sending me into a convulsion. The pain tore through me like fire, and I screamed again, my throat raw and hoarse from the constant cries of agony.

The assistant moved lower now, to my chest. I could see the needle in their hand, gleaming in the dim light of the chamber. My heart raced, and I whimpered, begging them silently to stop, but I knew it was useless. The needle pressed against my left nipple, the sharp tip resting just at the surface of my skin.

I gasped, my body trembling as the pressure built.

The needle pierced through my nipple, the sharp pain making me scream louder than before. The sensation was unlike anything I had felt before, a deep, searing pain that radiated through my chest and left me gasping for breath. My body convulsed, the agony too much to bear as the needle slowly sank deeper into my flesh.

The crowd roared with approval, their voices echoing off the walls as they cheered my suffering.

“Please!” I begged, my voice trembling. “Please... stop...”

The Whip Master stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Do you have something to offer us, Mary?” he asked softly, his tone dripping with mock sympathy.

I knew what he meant. The only thing I had left to offer was my skin.

“Take it,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Take my skin... just stop this...”

The assistant stepped forward with the chicken wire, wrapping it tightly around my upper arm. The pressure was unbearable, the wire cutting into my already trembling skin. I winced, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the knife appeared.

The blade slid beneath my skin, and I screamed as they carefully peeled away a small square of flesh. The pain was sharp and excruciating, my body convulsing as they held up the piece of my skin for the crowd to see.

“Who wants a taste?” the assistant called out, their voice full of cruel amusement.

A crowd member eagerly stepped forward, their eyes locked on the piece of my skin. They held it up to the light for a moment before bringing it to their mouth, chewing slowly.

“Salty,” they said with a grin. “A little bloodier than the last one.”

I gagged, my stomach churning as I watched them savor the taste of my flesh. The horror of what was happening left me speechless, my mind reeling as the pain and humiliation overwhelmed me.

But the torment wasn’t over.

The assistant picked up another needle, this time pressing it against my right thigh. My heart pounded in my chest, and I whimpered, my body trembling as I braced myself for the inevitable pain.

The needle pierced through my thigh, the sharp tip sliding into my flesh with ease. I screamed again, my voice breaking as the pain tore through me, leaving me gasping for breath.

The Whip Master circled me, the whip coiled in his hand, ready for the next round of lashes.

And I could only scream.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

@Loinclothslave

Enjoy these stories! Plenty more salt water for Mary!