Kriss's face did not budge but inwardly she was very cruelly resenting the humiliation as, one after another, the Patricks walked to her. Most of them just spat at her face. The yoke was preventing her from moving her head and dodge it and thus the spittoons were accumulating across her features and into her hair. At one point, she tried to spit at the man who had spat at her in response but as she was in a lower position, her own projection did not reach him. Some others slapped her in the face, groped her breasts through her tank-top, pinched her nipples or yanked at her hair. All the time she remained stoic, staring far away, ignoring the insults and aggressions. She knew that reacting to their attacks would only excite them more.<br/><br/>Then came this man who whispered to her ear about rape. It reminded her how she had been tricked into that basement, how she had been overpowered. And then the gang bang as the survivors lowered her pants and panties and raped her from behind while she was chained and dazzled. They had all cum into her pussy before setting her clothes back in place. She could still feel their sperm dribbling into her panties and the mere idea was bringing her to the verge of nausea. All the while she had been cursing them and threatening them. And she meant it. She had sworn to kill them all.<br/><br/>And now this man was here, taunting her, reminding her of those hated moments. As he turned away to address his peers, she twisted her torso, swinging the heavy yoke at the side of his knees. But she was stopped in the middle of the move. The two men that were guarding her, standing slightly behind her grabbed the yoke just before it hit the man's legs and yanked her back in position. From this moment on, they kept their hands poised on the yoke. The Grey Bitch could still bite...<br/><br/>Then came that woman. Kriss had calmed down and was again receiving the humiliations stoically. She barely looked at her when she got closer. The kick in her belly took her - and her guards - totally by surprise. She barely had the time to contract her abs. The powerful blow got past her defences and, escaping the grip of her guards, she doubled over, moaning and coughing. She retched a few times while the angry guards yanked her back up by her hair. Her face was contorted with pain as she tried to recover her breath. The woman spat at her face and said something she could not understand. Her ears were still ringing.<br/><br/>More humiliations later, Kriss had recovered some of her composure. But now, whenever someone approached her, she was readying herself against any vicious kick. At last, it seemed everybody had expressed her or his wrath against her or what she was standing for. And then came that black, masked man, everybody moving aside as he walked. Kriss stiffened. In particular as he dropped the bucket full of glowing embers. The prisoner felt a shiver run down her spine and hardened her face, not to show her fear.<br/><br/>The man got closer. The smell of his musky sweat wafted to her flaring nostrils. She listened to his words attentively but never deigned to look at his eyes. Hers were kept fixed on the coloured-glass rose that was above the cathedral's main entrance. At last, as she awaited for her answer, she turned her cold eyes on him and said<strong>"Just do what you have to do and leave me alone. I don't fear you, bastard!"</strong><br/><br/>And with that, she attempted to spit at the masked face.