Kriss felt that her yoke was being worked upon. The blows, the trembling, the shocks were all transmitted to her sore and raw neck and wrists. It was adding to her pain and the most violent hits were echoing inside her skull but Kriss did not mind. Soon she would be relieved from that infernal burden that had been sucking out her strength for so long.<br/><br/>While some men were trying to remove the yoke, some were exploring her body. She felt her legs grabbed and parted. A old reflex induced her to struggle but then she remembered she was safe among the Batterists and she allowed them to be stretched obscenely wide. She felt fingers probing her ruined sex, exploring her destroyed womanhood. She sobbed at the thought of the useless monster she had become.<br/><br/>Then hands began to touch the arrow stubs that were hardly protruding from her breasts and mound. The wounds were fresh and very painful. She moaned and gasped incoherently. This did not stop them to pull on the arrows. They even began to pull on them, stretching her breasts in all directions before the missiles were torn out of her flesh. Her hoarse screams got louder and louder. She tried to escape the brutal treatment, to no avail as men were holding her yoke and her legs down. One by one the arrows were plucked out of her body and then alcohol was poured on the wounds to sterilise them.<br/><br/>It took her long minutes to calm down. She realised that they had stopped hacking at her yoke. Her heart clenched. Had they renounced? Friendly hands helped her on her feet and then she was led. She had no way to know where in the fort she was nor where she was led. Her breasts and crotch were all mangled, ruined, barely recognisable.