Hannah sobbed as another thrust from the cock up her rear ground her breasts across the tray of spiked rollers again.

Her widespread feet were ankle-cuffed to rings in the floor. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back and her elbows were strapped together, wrenching her shoulders back. If that was not bad enough a ceiling chain was hooked to her wrists so that they were pulled upward so far that she had to bend over until her torso was level with the ground and her breasts swayed under her like fleshy inverted bells to stop her arms from being twisted off. A second chain running down at an angle from the ceiling hook was wrapped about her neck ensuring she did not bend any further forward.

It was in this posture that the table with the spiked roller tray had been slid under her chest. There were six wooden rollers each the thickness of kitchen rolling pins but twice as long. Pyramid-shaped metal studs had been hammered into them. They were set on spindles in a shallow tray so they were free to turn. Her full breasts had settled down onto the rows of studs making her gasp. Still as long as she held still they did not break her skin.

But then her user had taken up position behind her, slid his cock into her self-lubricating anus and began to pump into her. With every thrust up her bottom her breasts were ground across the tray, rippling in a fluid motion across the smooth ridges of the rollers which turned under them, stabbing her soft flesh as they went. Her hard nipples slipped down into the valleys between the rollers, catching the studs moving on both directions. The pain was exquisite. It was not the brute force of a beating, but the precise application of pinpoints of agony.

Soon her breasts felt like pincushions, throbbing scarlet and studded with a hundred pricks of blood, which smeared the rollers. It was slight comfort that she knew the healing cream would fix them in minutes but that was later and here and now they hurt like hell.

She sobbed and whimpered about her gag, her tears running down her cheeks.

And all the time her user kept ramming into her rear, delighting in her suffering.

In a delirium she struggled to find something good about her torment for her own satisfaction. Her pussy was wet but that was all. She bet her pussy button was no more than purple. It was simply too bad to enjoy. Was there some way of turning pain into pleasure? Maybe for a natural submissive but it was beyond her nature. She was not that type. How could she be when her breasts were on fire and she was…uhhh!

Out of nowhere an orgasm ripped through her, leaving her dizzy with shock and for a few seconds blotting out the pain.

That was unexpected…