Note and disclaimer: this is a quick and relatively short conclusion of a previous story. You can find part 1 here. Please make sure to read it first. Feedback, criticism, comments, messages and ideas are always welcome.

He walked straight past her, ignoring her, the baseball bat on His shoulder as if on His way to a game. She tried to follow him with her eyes, but when he left her field of view she found it too painful to turn her head. Immobile, broken, bleeding and in absolute agony, she held her breath so her own laboured breathing wouldn't be too loud to hear what he was doing. The hard knock of the aluminium bat hitting the concrete floor next to her, some rummaging around, metallic sounds as tools were moved and the sudden hard rattle of a ratchet lowering a jingling chain from the ceiling. It all played into her fears, tickled her imagination, and made her desperately curious. Her Owner was so creative, so good and kind, so firm and commanding, she knew He'd take whatever He wanted without holding back.

He appeared again, and she shifted her attention to seeing rather than hearing, bringing her God into focus. He knelt next to her and stroked her bruised face with the back of a finger. "You're so pretty like this" His hand slid down to her neck and onto her shoulder, shifting her a bit so He could reach the straps. He started to undo them slowly and carefully, allowing for her body to adjust to the sudden freedom. Gone the comforting support of the leather keeping her limbs in place, gone the constricting hug that made it so hard to breathe. She felt her arms shift, her shoulders unable to keep them in place. She felt her wrists clack and grind, her fingers cold and tingling. She felt Him lift her arms and lay them down along her side, her muscles and joints burning from pain, completely atrophied, stiff, useless and torn. He removed the last strap and she let out a deep sob, free and unrestrained, but still unable to use her arms. Having them loose only made them hurt more. He moved down, His hands sliding over her feverish skin, and undid the supports on her broken leg. She screamed when He straightened both legs and pulled them apart a bit. She screamed when he positioned her flat on her back with her arms by her sides. She screamed when he inspected her body, as if making a mental inventory of her damage. She didn't stop screaming until he kissed her, his hand sliding between her legs with a fingertip parting her slit, barely getting sucked into her dripping cunt and putting the slightest pressure onto her clit.

It was a proper kiss, making her relax and melt. It had been weeks since she last felt his tongue play with hers, an eternity since she felt this close, this warmth, this deep affection. For a second she felt like His girlfriend, His partner, His. Just His. She came within seconds. His finger didn't tease her orgasm out of her, it commanded it. Every shake and spasm of her body sent fresh waves of pain through her, mixed with waves of pleasure, both merging, reinforcing each other, turning into a cocktail of ecstacy. It was followed by another, and another, so she didn't even notice His finger leave her, His weight shift, and the sound of metal dragging over the rough concrete floor. What she did notice was the cold head of the bat hit her cunt. Hard enough to make her gasp, with unrelenting pressure that kept building. "I saw how you looked at it, my little slut, and of course you'll get your wish" He pushed harder, and harder, and she felt herself open to it. She was by no means a virgin, and had played around with large objects and the occasional fist, but the wide top of the baseball bat felt much larger than anything she'd ever had inside her before. She tried to spread her legs and arch her back, her broken body screaming in pain to join the agony of her cunt getting stretched. And with the next hard shove her cunt gave way, letting the widest part of the bat in so the rest could follow with relative ease. He pushed it in with a firm grip, pulled back a bit and pushed it back in deeper, over and over again. She felt the cold metal slide into her, until the pressure on her cervix told her she took as much as her cunt would allow. And still He kept pushing, pulling out and thrusting back in, fucking her. Faster, harder, deeper, even when an unexpected orgasm made her clench down on it, her poor cunt no match for the strength and brutality. It wasn't until after the next orgasm that He slowed down, still forcing it deep into her, but with controlled strokes rather than slamming it in. Slower, slower, His lips still against hers, tasting where either He bit her or she bit through her lip herself in her passion. And finally the bat stopped moving, let go, stuck inside her. She followed Him with her eyes as he got up, wiped a drop of her blood from His lips, looked down on the pathetic broken ragdoll spread eagle on the floor, and kicked the bat hard with his heavy boot.

She would have felt the skin on her back and ass cut open in a dozen places by the rough concrete, she would have felt the broken bones in her arms and legs move against and away from each other, she would have felt her head hit the solid floor hard enough to give her a concussion, if it weren't for the supernova of pain exploding deep inside her. The bat ripped through her, bruising and crushing her cervix, ruining her womb, hurting her cunt so much it would never heal again. She felt the next kick as it sent her body sliding a few more centimetres over the ground, but was already beyond feeling the pain as it wrecked her from the inside, her body shutting down, unable to process the destruction.

She didn't pass out as such, and part of her was proud of that. She could feel something was very, very deeply wrong inside her, her hair felt sticky and matted laying in a puddle of blood from a head wound, she couldn't move her arms at all when she tried to, and her legs couldn't do much more than twitch and spasm when she tried to close them around the bat stuck too deep in her cunt. Her eyes tried to focus and saw her Lord tower over her, getting closer and more in focus when he got down on a knee. Everything got sharp enough that she saw the noose in his hand, expertly tied out of thick, strong, rough rope. He tenderly lifted her head enough to slip the knot around her neck and pull it tight enough to stay in place. Leaning on his knee, he looked at her with what could have been tenderness. "Your body's giving up, my toy, you've gone so far that there's no going back. Will you give me one last gift before you go? Will you give me willingly and happily whatever's left for you to give? Do you want to die for me, my ragdoll?".

How could she deny Him anything? She only had so little to give, so why hold back? She was so inferior, so worthless, so small. She should be happy to be able to please someone so far above her, even if it cost her everything. She nodded. She looked Him straight in the eyes and felt she really meant it. She wanted nothing more. He pulled on the chain hanging from the ceiling, and the ratchet pulled on the rope around her neck, pulling it tighter. She felt her head lift from the floor and before it would get too tight managed to swallow and clear her mouth of blood and spit enough to speak for the first time in a long time. "Thank You, I love You" and with both of them smiling he pulled her higher, the rope cutting deeper, making sure it was also the last time she spoke.

She felt her shoulders clear the floor, her arms hanging limp next to her until they as well got lifted in the air. Her ribs hurt and she felt her spine stretch. Her hips protested. The bat still stuck in her cunt dragging over the ground as her ass went up, and finally her legs bending at wrong angles and hanging useless until her feet left the floor, still in high heels and torn nylons. Her head angled by the rope holding her up, she could still breathe. Short shallow breaths, wheezing through her constricted throat, expanding her damaged and probably broken ribs, giving her life, one second at a time. He walked around her, admiring her body, hanging limp, bruising, bleeding, broken. Thin streams of red painted her pale skin, like cracks in porcelain showing the red inside her, running all the way down from her scalp to the drops steadily tapping on the floor beneath her feet. After an eternity of struggling to breathe, she felt her body swing and stop as His hand closed around the bat. One hard tug and he pulled it out of her, a fresh stream of clear blood running down her thighs, her cunt ruined, no longer fuckable, no longer needed. He smiled, closed His second hand around the bat and with a well placed swing cracked her kneecap with full force. Her body swinging and spinning wildly on the rope, the knot around her neck was now too tight to breathe. A faint whimper escaped her lips but she could only suffer in silence. The second hit shattered her other knee. Blow after blow hitting her legs, He moved his way up from her feet, breaking every bone in them. Her tibia fractured in several places, her thighs bruised so deep they turned black. She was already too far gone to see Him take of His shirt, working up a sweat with the exercise, before resuming the hard work. Swing after swing, going up. Breaking ribs, arms, spine, no bone in her body untouched. Eventually, when it was clear she'd passed quietly and unnoticed a long time ago already, he put down the bat and picked up the axe.