Chained in the Dungeon: Ivy

Ivy's wrists lock into cold iron cuffs. The chains yank tight above her head, stretching every inch of her bare body in the dim light. A heavy ball gag forces its way between her teeth, strapping down hard at the back of her neck. Each breath drags wet and desperate around the rubber sphere. The first cane stroke lands across her ass with a sharp crack. She jerks, muscles jumping under her skin, but the restraints hold her tight. Another strike follows, lower this time, then another, building a steady rhythm that leaves thin red lines across her flesh. Her thighs tremble. Sweat beads along the curve of her spine as the cane keeps falling, precise and unrelenting. The chains rattle with every impact, the sound echoing off stone walls. She can't speak, can't beg, can only take it while her skin burns hotter with each stroke.