No turning back.

Rogue finally felt the pain, and that alone was a source of release. Rogue also increased her contact, kissing her, inserting a finger into her vagina.

Hmm, you're coming quickly, you were ****, I'm going to grant you beyond your expectations. The following blows were even more violent.

The blows continued to rain down, each impact echoing through the room like a funeral drum. Malicia, though bound and helpless, felt a strange release with every moan wrung from her. The voices inside her, those of the teenage girls, seemed to blend with her pain, forming a symphony of suffering that purified her.

Mystique, with sadistic precision, struck with a **** that left her breathless, yet Rogue didn't ask for mercy. Every blow struck was a penance, every tear shed a ransom. She knew it was the only way to free herself from the weight that crushed her, from the souls that inhabited her.

When she Rogue, Rogue's head was spinning and her skin, with its nerves, was sending out the maximum amount of shocks of pain. Malicia blindfolded her.

No need for you to see what happens next, here's a little treat for being a naughty little girl.

At that moment, a needle pierced her left breast, a searing pain radiating throughout her body. Rogue let out a muffled scream, but in this suffering, she found a strange peace. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing salt with the raw pain that ripped through her.

Mystique, standing behind her, smiled as she saw the tip of the needle emerge from the other side, leaving a trickle of blood running down her pale skin. "You see, Rogue," she murmured, gently stroking her hair, "pain is the only true purification." Blindfolded, Rogue felt every word Mystique said resonate within her, like a blessing or a curse.

Mystique inserted a nipple piercing before repeating the operation with infinite cruelty on the other nipple. Each puncture was a liberation, each drop of blood shed a necessary sacrifice.

Mystique inserted the needle into the nipple with surgical precision, and Rogue's muffled scream echoed through the room. The cold metal slid beneath her skin, leaving a trail of pain that intertwined with the hot tears running down her cheeks. When she repeated the action on the other breast, Rogue felt a strange harmony between pain and relief.

• You're so beautiful when you're suffering, you no longer think about what's eating you up, said Malicia.

Mystique smiled as she saw the tears streaming down Rogue's face, her body trembling with pain. She gently stroked Rogue's hair, tightening the inhibitor collar around her neck, tightening the bond that united them.

Rogue sat her down on a chair and took pictures.

Rogue heard Mystique taking pictures. This lasted a moment when she felt a Wartenberg pin rest on her nipple. For Rogue, this was the worst part because, cut off from all physical sensation, this wheel was normally unbearable, but for her it was magnified.

Rogue, still blindfolded, felt every drop of sweat trickle down her back, mixing with the tears that had dried on her cheeks. The pain had become a second skin, an envelope that surrounded her on all sides, and yet, she didn't ask for mercy. Each blow, each puncture, each burst of pain was a step toward the release she sought. Mystique, standing behind her, seemed to savor every moan, every shudder of her bruised body.

Mystique ran the wheel over every sensitive spot on Malicia's skin. Rogue screamed, trying in vain to free herself when Mystique moved down and began running the wheel over Rogue's vaginal lips.

Rogue, exhausted but strangely at peace, felt every fiber of her being vibrate with the scars of pain. The tears had stopped flowing, replaced by a morbid serenity that washed over her.

Yes, yes, there you are, I'm starting to come, continue.

Mystique, standing in front of her, smiled as she contemplated her submissive's bruised body, the piercings that now adorned her breasts glistening in the dim light of the manor.