He actually inhaled wisps of smoke – bits of the live flesh of my nipple were literally burned into smoke. Eric held the cigarette on that nipple for several seconds, rubbing it in. He made sure that the burn was deep and the pain would be lasting. Waves of indescribable pain flooded my chest. Both nipples felt as if a knife had been driven into them, and I thought at that moment that Eric had actually burned my right nipple off. I didn’t even care at that moment. The pain was so extreme where my healthy right nipple had been that, if I had been able to do so, I would have sliced off the remains of it myself. My whole torso shook and each of the dozen pincers attached to my body shifted a fraction of a millimetre, each renewing its own punishment. I finally looked down. The nipple was still there but horribly discoloured and wounded. I teared up, I wept, as my physical and emotional hurts combined with the utter desperate hopelessness of my life in this hellish prison. Eric, on the other hand, was now super-excited and jumped back on to the bed. He pulled the boy, who didn’t need much encouragement, back on to his face and lifted his own
