Rush of Pain

Goldie's tiny frame is already chained to the floor, legs folded under her, every limb locked down, her throat collared and pinned. Metal bites into skin. She can't move an inch. The first strike lands and the room fills with her raw screams. She plays the new-girl act, but her cunt betrays her, dripping and ready the moment my fingers slide inside. She takes the pain like she was built for it. We run the day into the ground—whips, clamps, shocks, whatever crosses my mind—and every time her body breaks she comes like a monster. She doesn't need the reward. She just needs the hurt.