The Depths of Hell - Day 3

She lay locked in steel on the floor, arms and legs spread, staring into the dark. The Pope walks the edge of the shadows and she hears his boots echo, but never sees him coming until the leather strikes her skin. He whips her slowly at first, then harder, until the floggers snap against her stomach and thighs in quick, vicious bursts. When the zipper goes on she braces for each sharp tug, and the moment it rips away her back arches and the scream gets lost in the empty room. Hot wax follows, dripped in long streams that sear across her tits and cunt, the heat making her fight the shackles. Breath play comes next; his gloved hand seals her nose and mouth while he leans over her, making every gasp feel earned. He doesn’t speak, just keeps the pressure until she stops thrashing, then lets her suck air only to clamp down again. By the end she is shaking, sweat and tears streaking her face, the same way she always ends up when he decides she’s had enough. She stays cuffed to the concrete, the room black again, her sobs the only sound left.