Racked and Stretched: Ivy

Ivy walks into the dungeon next. She's tied to the cross, arms out, body spread open. The ropes bite. Her wrists and ankles take the weight. A ball gag fills her mouth, thick leather pressing between her teeth. The frame shifts, her back arches, and the wood presses hard against her skin. Then she's moved again, her legs pulled tighter, her shoulders stretched until the ropes hum. The rack comes next. Leather straps lock her down at wrists and ankles, her body pulled long and tight until her spine feels like it's coming apart. She stops fighting. Her eyes glaze, breath slow, mind gone somewhere quiet. Hot wax hits her chest first, then her stomach, her thighs. It lands, cools, sticks. The rack keeps her open while the wax builds in drips and lines. Then a hand reaches between her legs. Fingers work her clit in steady circles, relentless, until she comes hard against the straps, body jerking, the rack creaking under the strain.