The sun had barely clawed its way above the horizon when the car lurched to a stop at the edge of the crumbling stone arch. Priya’s body was already a living wound—every muscle screaming, every inch of skin painted in the night’s atrocities: deep purple bite-marks ringing her nipples like black halos, rope-burn welts circling her wrists from the club alley restraints she’d begged for, thighs smeared with layers of dried cum crusted over fresh leaks, pussy so brutally used it hung open even when she stood still, inner lips swollen to twice their size, clit protruding like an angry red pearl, raw and hypersensitive. The slightest breeze made her flinch; every heartbeat sent fresh throbs of pain-pleasure radiating from her core.