WIP

My body is propped up, with my waist higher than my head. My lower half is held pointed towards the ceiling, and my back curves so that my head is lower and facing towards my stomach, almost like the shape of a J. I am tied to cold metal poles that keep me in this position.

My body holds a beautiful bouquet of flowers. They are roses, a gift from the man courting my owner. There are so many, and their blooms are so full.

Their stems run into my body. I am a vase, after all. They are stuck deeply into my pussy...into my asshole...into my urethra. The thorns hurt so much.

From my position in the foyer, I can see down the main hallway, and I can see Brazier hanging above it. She is held to the ceiling horizontally, and suspended beneath her by cords that run from piercings in her nipples and clit is a large pan filled with lit charcoal. The flames burn hot and bright, and light the hallway. Occasionally, a flame will leap high enough to lick her stomach, and I see her recoil from its heat. I cannot imagine the pain she must be in from that heat. Her stomach is smooth and bare; whatever hair grows there is quickly singed away.

Occasionally, when I glance at her, she glances back at me. I like to think that we are friends.