The Heavy Whipping and Extreme Torture of Jaye

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

When I wrote this, I may or may not have had a Cosplay YouTuber in mind called Snarky Jay, I mean I didn't so any similarities are purely coincidental, but I thought i'd mention how this isn't me working a sado-crush out of my kink-brain system about her.

Part I : The Caning

Jaye stood bound by her wrists, her arms stretched high above her head, her feet barely touching the floor as she balanced on her toes. Her skin, naturally tanned with a deep golden hue, glistened under the dim light, the sweat highlighting every curve of her voluptuous form. Her broad hips and thick thighs were now taut with tension as she braced herself for the first of twenty cane strokes. The torturer stepped forward, his cane poised and ready.

The air was still for a moment, heavy with anticipation, before the cane sliced through it with a swift, sharp whistle. The first strike landed with a loud crack against the back of Jaye’s thighs. Her skin rippled slightly from the impact before the pain blossomed. Her thighs, full and firm, trembled as the strike left a thin red welt. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, her body jerking forward as the initial shock set in. Her breasts, glistening with sweat, swayed from the force, her nipples tight from the tension.

The second strike followed almost immediately, a bit lower this time, striking the tender flesh just beneath her buttocks. The cane’s whistle was accompanied by a louder, more desperate moan from Jaye as her body twisted, her thighs quivering under the pressure. A bright red line appeared almost instantly, the welt raising and deepening as her skin swelled from the force.

Her body, full and curvy, was trembling with each lash. Sweat trickled down her back, tracing the curves of her waist and hips before pooling at the base of her spine. Her face, once set in determined silence, now contorted in pain as the third strike connected. The cane bit deeper this time, and a loud, guttural scream tore from Jaye's throat. Her knees buckled, struggling to maintain her balance on her toes.

The torturer circled her, cane swishing menacingly through the air before landing another strike across the tops of her thighs. The sound was sharp and brutal, followed by a high-pitched cry from Jaye as she instinctively arched her back. Her skin, already glowing from the sweat, now bore the angry red stripes of the cane’s wrath. The welts were rising fast, swelling against her tanned complexion, and with each new stroke, the lines deepened into purpling bruises.

By the tenth strike, Jaye’s entire lower body was trembling uncontrollably. Her legs, once solid and full of strength, shook with every new lash, her cries growing louder and more desperate. The cane whistled through the air again, this time landing directly across her upper thighs, the fleshy part of her body that had yet to feel the full brunt of the torture. Her breasts heaved with each breath, the sweat now glistening on her nipples and areolas, which had tightened from the unrelenting pain.

“Please... please stop...” she whimpered through gasps, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. The cane continued to strike, relentless, its sound echoing like a whip in the wind. Every time it connected with her skin, her body convulsed, her hips jerking forward as if trying to escape the next blow. But there was no escape.

The final ten strikes were delivered with precision, each one harsher than the last, and each time Jaye screamed louder, her voice breaking into sobs. Her tanned skin, once smooth and glistening, was now a landscape of raised welts and dark bruises, the flesh on her thighs swollen and tender. Blood began to rise in tiny spots along the deepest welts, not quite breaking the skin but threatening to.

By the twentieth and final stroke, Jaye was sobbing uncontrollably, her body hanging limp from the ropes. Her thighs, now mottled with bruises and welts, shook beneath her, barely able to hold her weight. Sweat dripped from her body, coating her in a shimmering layer that accentuated her suffering. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, the moisture collecting in the curves of her body as her tear-streaked face hung low, unable to meet the gaze of her tormentor.

The cane fell silent, but the damage was done. Her tanned, voluptuous figure bore the marks of every lash, the stripes clear against her skin. Her body trembled, but her spirit, though battered, remained intact. For now.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Part II : The Flogging

Jaye’s wrists were now tied to ropes, her arms pulled out wide in a standing star position. The ropes at her ankles spread her feet roughly a metre apart, leaving her entire body exposed and vulnerable. Her tanned skin glistened under the dim light, the sweat accentuating every curve of her voluptuous form. Her thighs, 27 inch waist, and broad hips were fully on display, her body stretched to its limits. The ropes at her wrists and ankles dug into her skin slightly, reminding her that there was no escape from what was to come.

The torturer approached, holding the heavy flogger in hand. Its thick leather tails swished menacingly through the air before connecting with her back for the first time. The sound was a deep, resonating thud, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Jaye. Her muscles clenched, her body jerking in response as the leather wrapped around her sides. Her skin rippled from the force, the impact sending shockwaves through her body.

The flogger moved in a rhythmic pattern, striking her back, sides, and buttocks with relentless force. Each lash landed with a deep, dull sound, causing her tanned skin to flush a deeper shade of red as bruises began to form. Jaye's full thighs trembled with each hit, her legs struggling to stay steady under the barrage of strikes. Sweat dripped down her back, tracing the curve of her spine before pooling in the small of her back.

The strikes became more brutal as the flogger worked its way across her body. One lash landed across her lower back, causing her hips to buck forward, her broad hips trembling from the impact. Another thudded across her firm buttocks, causing a pained moan to escape her lips. Her breasts, heavy and glistening with sweat, shook with each lash, her nipples and areolas throbbing from the lashes.

By the fifteenth strike, her body was covered in welts, each one rising like ridges on her tanned skin. The flogger then began to target more sensitive areas. With a deliberate movement, the torturer swung the flogger between her legs, striking the inside of her thighs. The tails snapped against her skin, brushing dangerously close to her exposed pussy. Jaye's entire body jolted, her eyes snapping wide as a loud gasp escaped her throat. Her legs shook, the ropes at her ankles keeping her spread wide as she fought to maintain her composure.

The flogger struck again, this time harder, the tails grazing her most sensitive area. A scream tore from her lips, raw and desperate, as the pain shot through her lower body. Her hips bucked forward, her body writhing in place as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her inner thighs, now mottled with bruises, trembled as sweat dripped down the insides of her legs.

The flogging continued, with strikes alternating between her back, her sides, and occasionally between her legs. Each blow caused her to jerk violently in place, her breasts swaying from the force, her body slick with sweat. The moisture made her tanned skin shimmer, the contrast between her bruised and untouched areas becoming more pronounced with each lash. Her face contorted in agony, her mouth open as she gasped for air, tears streaming down her cheeks.

As the flogger struck her clit again, her knees buckled slightly, and a guttural cry escaped her. The pain was excruciating, radiating through her body as she trembled in place. Her thighs quivered, the muscles tensing as her body reacted to the agony. The sensitive flesh between her legs was now raw and swollen, her sobs growing louder with each passing moment.

By the time the thirtieth lash had landed, Jaye was a trembling mess, her body covered in bruises and welts. Her skin, once smooth and tanned, was now swollen and tender, the marks of the flogger clearly visible across her back, thighs, and between her legs. Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath, the sweat dripping down her curves and pooling at her feet. Her face, once proud, was now contorted in pain, her lips trembling as she whimpered softly between sobs.

The flogging had left her body broken, but her spirit still flickered, battered yet unyielding. However, she knew the worst was yet to come.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Part III : The Bull Whipping

Jaye remained bound in her standing star position, her wrists pulled taut by ropes, her ankles secured and spread wide. Her body, now slick with sweat and trembling from the earlier phases, hung vulnerably in the dim chamber. The marks from the flogger and cane still marred her tanned skin—welts, bruises, and swelling had left her visibly shaken. But the final phase was about to begin, and this time, the weapon of choice was the bullwhip.

The torturer stood behind her, uncoiling the long, leather whip. Its length snaked across the floor, every movement accompanied by a low, threatening hiss. Jaye could hear the whip swishing through the air as the torturer tested its weight, and her entire body tensed in anticipation. Her breath quickened, her chest heaving as she prepared herself for the inevitable pain. Her sweat-soaked skin glistened, highlighting the curves of her voluptuous figure—her breasts heavy, nipples taut, and her thighs trembling as she stood exposed.

The first lash came with a terrifying crack. The whip sliced through the air and landed with brutal precision across her back, the sharp tip biting into her tanned skin. The pain was immediate, a searing burn that spread across her back like wildfire. Jaye’s scream was loud and desperate, her head snapping back as her body convulsed violently. Her skin rippled from the impact, but it didn’t just bruise—her flesh split open under the force of the whip, a thin line of blood beading up almost instantly.

The whip lashed again, this time lower, striking the middle of her back. The sound of leather meeting skin echoed through the chamber, a deafening crack followed by another agonized scream. Jaye’s entire body shook as the second tear formed, blood seeping from the fresh wound. Her breasts bounced slightly with each lash, the sweat making them glisten under the dim light. Her knees buckled, but the ropes kept her upright, leaving her no escape from the torment.

As the third lash landed across her thighs, Jaye’s sobs turned into desperate pleas. “Please... no more... I can’t...” Her voice was hoarse from screaming, her words broken by gasps as the pain overwhelmed her. The whip struck her again, this time grazing the top of her buttocks and the sensitive area between her legs. The tip of the whip caught her clit, and Jaye’s entire body convulsed as a scream tore from her throat. The pain was unbearable, radiating through her core like fire. Her legs trembled, her hips jerking forward as she fought to pull away, but the ropes held her firmly in place.

The whipping continued with ruthless precision. Each strike was methodical, leaving deep, jagged tears in her skin. Blood trickled from the open wounds, mixing with the sweat that poured down her body. Her once smooth and tanned complexion was now marred by crimson lines, the flesh swollen and raw. The sound of the whip cracking against her skin was relentless, each lash a reminder of the agony she was enduring.

Her breasts, glistening with sweat, were not spared. A lash struck the underside of her left breast, the whip wrapping around her torso. The sharp sting caused her to cry out, her head snapping back as her body writhed in place. Her nipples, sensitive and tight, throbbed with the force of the blows, and her areolas were coated in sweat as the whip left angry red marks along her chest.

By the fifteenth lash, Jaye’s body was trembling uncontrollably, her sobs filling the chamber. Her legs quivered, her thighs visibly shaking as the whip tore into her again. Blood now dripped down the backs of her legs, staining the stone floor beneath her. Her pussy and clit, occasionally targeted by the torturer, were swollen and throbbing with pain, each strike sending shockwaves through her body.

“Please... please stop...” she begged, her voice barely audible through her sobs. But the torturer was relentless. The whip cracked again, tearing open another wound across her lower back. Jaye’s scream was raw and guttural, her entire body shaking violently as she hung from the ropes. Her face, contorted in agony, was streaked with tears, her lips trembling as she gasped for air.

The final strikes came faster, the torturer delivering each lash with terrifying precision. The whip slashed across her shoulders, her thighs, and her most sensitive areas, leaving deep, jagged cuts in its wake. Jaye’s body convulsed with every lash, her skin tearing open further with each blow. Blood poured from her wounds, dripping down her body and pooling at her feet.

By the thirtieth and final lash, Jaye’s body was a trembling, bloodied mess. Her skin, once smooth and tanned, was now covered in cuts, bruises, and welts. Blood and sweat mingled on her body, her tanned complexion hidden beneath the marks of her torment. Her breasts, swollen and red from the strikes, heaved with every ragged breath, the moisture clinging to her curves.

Jaye hung limply in her restraints, her head bowed, her body trembling as she sobbed uncontrollably. The pain was overwhelming, her body broken and bloodied from the ordeal. Her thighs quivered, barely able to support her weight, and her sensitive areas throbbed with agony from the strikes. The chamber was silent now, save for the sound of her quiet, desperate sobs.

Her spirit, though battered, remained unbroken. She had survived the whipping, but the marks of her ordeal would remain for a long time. Her body bore the evidence of every lash, every tear, and every scream, a testament to her endurance.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Part IV : Salt and a Bonus Bull Whipping

Jaye hung limply from her restraints, her body battered and broken, covered in blood, sweat, and bruises. The marks of the whip and flogger were etched deeply into her tanned skin, each cut and tear throbbing with searing pain. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to recover, but there was no respite.

From the corner of the room, the torturer appeared, holding a large bucket filled with a solution of cold saltwater. The clear liquid sloshed inside, innocent enough at first glance.. The torturer approached her, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he lifted the bucket, positioning it above her trembling body.

For a brief moment, the cold water hit her skin, and it almost felt soothing, like a balm to her overheated, sweat-soaked form. But within seconds, the salt began to seep into the open wounds—the deep, jagged tears from the bullwhip—and the reaction was immediate and violent.

Jaye’s entire body convulsed as the saltwater poured over her, the cold liquid penetrating her open cuts and abrasions. The pain was unlike anything she had experienced. Her mouth flew open in a silent scream, her eyes widening in pure, unfiltered shock as the salt scorched her raw flesh. Her scream erupted from her throat, an inhuman, primal sound, louder than anything she had released before. It was the kind of scream born from unbearable agony, a sound that echoed off the stone walls with such intensity that it seemed to shake the room itself.

Her body jerked violently, twisting and pulling at the restraints, but there was no escape. The salt stung every open wound, the fresh cuts from the bullwhip feeling as though they were being torn open all over again. Jaye’s eyes bulged in horror, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably between her screams. Her skin, already bruised and battered, now burned as if it were on fire. The salt seemed to magnify every lash, every cut, every welt.

Her voluptuous figure quivered under the torment. The sweat that once dripped from her body had now mixed with the saltwater, leaving her skin slick but in agony. The deep cuts on her back, shoulders, and thighs oozed blood, which was now diluted with the saltwater dripping down her legs. Her breasts, swollen and sensitive, shook with every convulsion, her nipples tight and throbbing from the searing pain radiating through her body.

Just when it seemed like the torture couldn't get any worse, the Whip Master stepped forward, raising his voice above the echo of her screams. “Oh, we’re not done yet Jaye,” he said, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “I know you can take more, a lot more, and I’ll decide when you’ve had enough, so let’s do another 20 lashes!”

Jaye's sobs grew more desperate, her voice cracking as she tried to beg. “No... no, please... no more...” But the Whip Master ignored her, lifting the bullwhip high above his head. The sound of it unfurling was like a predator stalking its prey, a low hiss that promised even more devastation.

The first bonus lash landed with terrifying precision, striking across her lower back where the saltwater still burned in her open wounds. The whip tore through her already damaged skin, ripping open the fragile flesh. Jaye’s scream was piercing, her body jerking violently as the pain overwhelmed her senses. Blood splattered from the fresh tear, the sound of it hitting the stone floor almost drowned out by her agonized cries.

Each subsequent lash was delivered with brutal force, the whip tearing through her back, shoulders, and thighs, reopening the wounds that had barely begun to heal. Jaye’s body convulsed with every strike, her breasts swaying from the force, the sweat pouring from her trembling form. Her thighs shook violently, her legs barely able to hold her up as the pain coursed through her.

By the tenth lash, her voice was hoarse, her screams now broken sobs. The bullwhip cracked again, this time striking between her legs, the tip biting into her swollen clit. Jaye’s entire body jerked upward, her mouth wide open in a silent scream as the pain radiated through her most sensitive area. Tears streamed down her face, her lips trembling as she gasped for breath, the agony too much to bear.

The final ten lashes were even more brutal. The Whip Master aimed with precision, each strike leaving deeper, jagged tears in her tanned skin. Blood flowed freely now, dripping from her back and legs, pooling at her feet as her body shook uncontrollably. Her legs, once strong and steady, were now trembling violently, unable to support her weight. The salt in her wounds only intensified the agony, the burning sensation making her entire body feel as though it were on fire.

With the twentieth and final lash, the bullwhip tore across her back one last time, ripping open the flesh just beneath her shoulder blades. Jaye’s scream was guttural, raw, her body convulsing as she hung limp from the ropes. Blood poured from the fresh wound, her body a trembling, bloodied mess, her skin covered in tears, bruises, and welts. The saltwater had made the pain unbearable, her once-tanned skin now mottled with deep red cuts and dark bruises.

Jaye hung there, her head bowed, her body quaking with every sob. Her tanned, voluptuous figure was now broken and bloodied, her legs trembling and her breasts heaving with each labored breath. The Whip Master stepped back, admiring his work, as Jaye’s cries filled the silent chamber.

 

[Mikerytel]

Good story. Jaye has been broken in

 

[Laura1949]

Whew! that bullwhipping was brutal as was the salt on the wounds. I felt, for my taste the final 20 lashes were too harsh with the descriptions of the blood pooling on the floor but I am sure others would disagree. I can't imagine what the pain of a bullwhip strike to my clitoris would have felt like but I doubt I would still be conscious afterwards. In reading this I was picturing in my mind myself being whipped and it was very sexually arousing Thank you for a very descriptive picture painted in words.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Whew! that bullwhipping was brutal as was the salt on the wounds. I felt, for my taste the final 20 lashes were too harsh with the descriptions of the blood pooling on the floor but I am sure others would disagree. I can't imagine what the pain of a bullwhip strike to my clitoris would have felt like but I doubt I would still be conscious afterwards. In reading this I was picturing in my mind myself being whipped and it was very sexually arousing Thank you for a very descriptive picture painted in words.

Ah thanks Laura! Glad it hit the spot for you

I do get that feedback quite a bit, that I tend to go too far! When I'm writing them I go into a sort of sado-trance so my desire to amp up the pain always kicks in. I wrote some other stories about Jaye tonight, one of them I don't even know if I will share here because I just went into a flay lust.... What can I say, Jaye has really nice skin!

 

[The Beast]

Brutal but great story. You know how to deliver pain to women's body.

 

[The Beast]

But for what she was punished? I like details the cause of flogging not only process.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

But for what she was punished? I like details the cause of flogging not only process.

Mostly it's just for my sexual pleasure to be honest!

 

[Loinclothslave]

Mostly it's just for my sexual pleasure to be honest!

As the victim it is also my pleasure as well… perhaps you are breaking me until I beg for abject enslavement and the mark of the branding iron?

 

[The Beast]

Mostly it's just for my sexual pleasure to be honest!

Story is great and which many elements which give pleasures to my sadist nature (flogging till blood, salt water on welts and many more) but I prefer punished woman not whip her without cause. She should deserve for pain and suffering.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

Story is great and which many elements which give pleasures to my sadist nature (flogging till blood, salt water on welts and many more) but I prefer punished woman not whip her without cause. She should deserve for pain and suffering.

That's a good point, I'll start and add in a little "here's why she's here" at the beginning of my stories to set the scene.

 

[Loinclothslave]

That's a good point, I'll start and add in a little "here's why she's here" at the beginning of my stories to set the scene.

Just to confuse this issue, I think that should be your decision. I was perfectly content with the story as written. If you want to give a reason for punishment then that’s your prerogative but from my perspective this story was perfect without one. Leaving something to the reader’s imagination is a legitimate literary tool that may widen the audience

 

[Laura1949]

I agree with Loinclothslave. No reason to include a reason. That's up to the reader to decide. I like the story because it is so very descriptive of how each whip stroke affects Jaye both physically and mentally. A complete description of Jaye's body would have been nice but again the reader can decide. For meJaye is a full bodied mature woman.

 

[The Beast]

That's a good point, I'll start and add in a little "here's why she's here" at the beginning of my stories to set the scene.

It's your choice and your story not mine.

 

[Mikerytel]

I’d say leave the reason out and let the viewers imagination run wild as to how she got there and why she’s being whipped till bleeding

 

[Darth Agonoth]

Just to confuse this issue, I think that should be your decision. I was perfectly content with the story as written. If you want to give a reason for punishment then that’s your prerogative but from my perspective this story was perfect without one. Leaving something to the reader’s imagination is a legitimate literary tool that may widen the audience

I completely agree with you. My writing style is actually the opposite - I tend to pack my stories with intricate details and explore inner workings extensively. However, I totally see the value of the in medias res technique.

This approach leaves much more to the reader's imagination, which can be incredibly powerful. It allows readers to fill in the gaps themselves, creating a more personalized experience. It's impressive when an author can craft a compelling narrative without explicitly stating every detail.

I respect how this technique can broaden a story's appeal, as different readers might interpret the unsaid elements in various ways. It's a great reminder of how diverse writing styles can be, and how each approach has its own strengths.

 

[Annatar Lord of Gifts]

The Extreme Torture of Jay

Jay had been caned, flogged and then whipped to within an inch or her life with the Bull Whip. Her body, slick with sweat, hung trembling in the chains, her tanned skin glowing under the dim light of the dungeon. Her legs were spread wide, ankles bound to the cold stone floor. Her voluptuous figure, with firm, medium-sized breasts heaving from each ragged breath, was now the center of the Torturer’s sadistic attention. The whip marks and welts covering her back were still fresh, but his eyes were locked on her most vulnerable, intimate place: her vagina, with her soft labia and exposed, swollen clitoris.

The Torturer stepped closer, his breathing slow but deep with arousal. “I haven’t truly begun yet,” he whispered, his fingers trailing down her smooth, tanned inner thigh, barely grazing the sensitive skin of her labia. Jay’s breath hitched, her body tensing involuntarily in response to the delicate touch.

Without another word, he reached for a pair of pliers from his table of instruments. Jay’s heart raced, her dark eyes widening in fear as the cold, gleaming metal came closer. He crouched down between her legs, positioning the pliers over her soft labia.

With precise movements, he clamped the pliers down on her labia, gripping the swollen, tender flesh between the cold metal jaws. Jay’s body jerked violently as pain shot through her, her scream filling the dungeon. The Torturer smirked as he applied pressure, twisting the pliers just enough to stretch the delicate skin.

“Please... no more,” Jay whimpered, her voice shaking as tears streamed down her tanned cheeks.

Ignoring her pleas, the Torturer twisted the pliers again, stretching her labia even further. The metal teeth dug into her soft flesh, sending waves of pain through her. Her body convulsed in the chains, her legs trembling as the Torturer continued to stretch and twist her labia until it seemed as though the skin might tear.

Once satisfied, he released her labia, letting it fall limp and swollen. Jay gasped for air, her body quivering in the chains, but the Torturer wasn’t finished.

He moved to her clitoris next. Jay’s heart pounded as she felt the cold metal clamp down on her clit. The pain was immediate, her body arching violently as the pliers squeezed the sensitive nub. Her scream was guttural, raw, as the Torturer twisted and tugged at her clit with sadistic precision.

After what felt like an eternity, he released her, leaving her clit throbbing, swollen, and bruised. Jay’s tanned skin glistened with sweat, her breaths shallow and ragged, but her suffering was far from over.

Next came the scalpel.

The Torturer retrieved the sharp blade from his table, holding it up to the light so it gleamed menacingly. With delicate precision, he began to make small, shallow cuts along the edges of her labia. Each slice of the blade was deliberate, slow, and excruciating. Jay screamed, her body convulsing as the scalpel made its way across her sensitive flesh.

Blood trickled from the small wounds, the cuts burning with pain. Her labia was now covered in tiny, stinging incisions, each one sending fresh agony through her body. The Torturer worked methodically, ensuring that each cut was placed perfectly for maximum pain.

He moved the scalpel to her clit next, carefully slicing around the swollen nub. Jay sobbed, her voice hoarse from screaming as the blade tore into her flesh. The pain was unbearable, each tiny cut sending shockwaves through her entire body. Her clit, already swollen and bruised from the pliers, now throbbed with a new, searing pain.

After carefully placing the scalpel aside, he reached for the sandpaper. Jay’s heart raced, her entire body trembling as she saw him approach with the rough sheet in his hand. She tried to brace herself, but nothing could prepare her for the excruciating pain that followed.

The Torturer pressed the coarse sandpaper against her already bruised and cut labia, rubbing it slowly over her delicate skin. Jay screamed, her body jerking in the chains as the rough texture tore at her flesh. The sensation was raw, burning agony, each scrape of the sandpaper peeling away more of her soft skin.

“You’re so sensitive here,” the Torturer whispered, pressing harder. “The more I rub, the worse it gets.”

Jay’s sobs filled the room as the Torturer continued to rub the sandpaper against her labia, leaving the flesh raw and bleeding. The pain was unbearable, each movement of the sandpaper sending fresh waves of agony through her body.

The Torturer set the sandpaper aside and reached for his final tool—a cheese grater. Jay’s breath hitched as she saw the jagged metal surface glinting in the dim light. She knew that this would be the worst torture yet.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the Torturer pressed the cheese grater against her raw, swollen labia. The sharp metal edges bit into her flesh, and with a steady hand, he began to grate away at her sensitive skin. Jay’s scream was immediate, a piercing cry of agony as the grater tore at her labia.

The pain was excruciating, the sharp metal edges tearing through her flesh with brutal efficiency. Her body convulsed in the chains, her legs trembling uncontrollably as the Torturer grated away at her most sensitive area.

Her labia, now shredded and bleeding, was nearly destroyed, but the Torturer wasn't satisfied. With a twisted grin, he moved the cheese grater upward, positioning it over her clitoris. Jay’s eyes flew open wide in terror as she felt the jagged metal scrape over her swollen clit.

The Torturer began to grate, slowly at first, then harder and faster. The pain was beyond anything Jay had ever imagined, each scrape of the grater tearing at the sensitive flesh of her clit. Her body convulsed violently, her screams hoarse and broken as the grater shredded her clitoris, turning it into a raw, bleeding mass.

He grated relentlessly, over and over again, tearing apart what was left of Jay’s clit. Blood flowed freely, her body trembling uncontrollably as the pain overwhelmed her senses. The jagged metal edges shredded her delicate flesh until there was almost nothing left of her clit.

By the time he finally stopped, Jay’s body hung limp in the chains, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her labia, once soft and untouched, was now a mutilated ruin, and her clitoris, once swollen and sensitive, was barely recognizable, shredded by the relentless grating.

Blood dripped down her thighs, her tanned skin glistening with a mixture of sweat, blood and tears.

A further wave of lust came over the Torturer, as he held the cheese grater, his attention turning to Jay's anus. First he would bugger her, then came the grating....

 

[thecuriousone]

This torturer does not have respect for his equipment. Soaking a sandpaper in blood will ruin it quickly. How unprofessional.