Now Lila was ready... completely devoid of will. Anja took up the steel skewer—the very one upon which, days earlier, a woman had met her death while writhing in the throes of lust. The skewer found the entrance to Lila’s wet pussy without resistance. Slowly—ever so slowly—the dangerous metal slid into her tender flesh.

The skewer’s cold intrusion sent a shock coursing through Lila’s body—so sudden and sharp that her fingers clawed into the earth beneath her. Anja kept a firm grip on the metal, moving deliberately as she pushed it deeper; her gaze was fixed intently on Lila’s face, as if studying every twitch and gasp. The stretching sensation was excruciating, yet Lila could not bring herself to pull away. The pain transformed into something else—something searing and urgent—when the tip touched a spot deep inside her that made her vision blur.

Anja’s free hand pinned Lila’s hip to the ground; her thumb dug into the soft tissue just above Lila’s pubic bone. "Breathe," she murmured in a deep, rough voice. The skewer twisted slightly—just enough to make Lila whimper—then Anja leaned forward until her lips brushed Lila’s ear. "You’re taking it so well," she whispered. Lila’s eyes flew wide, but Anja was already withdrawing the skewer, only to drive it back inside her; the sound of it sliding was obscenely loud in the quiet midday air.

With every thrust, the skewer penetrated deeper; its cold steel shaft glided effortlessly through Lila’s slick wetness. Anja’s movements were now rhythmic—precise, practiced thrusts that made Lila’s thighs tremble. The pain had given way to a throbbing, pleasurable tug—a blissful pressure that intensified with every thrust. Lila gasped for air; her hips jerked involuntarily, matching the relentless rhythm of the skewer. Was it blood she felt? Or merely the wetness of her own arousal? The thought should have frightened her. Instead, it sent a fresh wave of heat surging through her body.

Anja’s free hand gripped Lila’s hip even tighter now; her fingernails dug into the soft flesh as she angled the skewer upward, striking a spot that made Lila cry out. The sound was raw, unfiltered. A knowing smile played on Anja’s lips. "You’re so tight," she murmured, her voice filled with something akin to pride. "Just like Tanja." The words crept into Lila’s ears—poisonous yet sweet. Tanja. The name pulsed in her head like a second heartbeat. Had it been the same for her? Had she, too, arched her back and gasped for air as her body yielded to the steel that might soon roast her alive?