The constant ticking of the nails on her forehead was driving Kriss mad. The pain was sharp enough, but the sound seemed to echo through her skull and with time it felt like her skull would explode. The tattooist's sweat kept dripping on her face as he worked on his piece of art.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, the other man raped her ass, reviving the pain she felt there. By now, her contorted body was too aching and cramped to give much of a fight. The tattooist was preventing her from seeing her rapist, not that it mattered much. She had lost the count of the men who had forced her holes since she had been captured. Finally, she felt the man cum over her chest, covering her proud breasts with his hot, sticky jism.<br/><br/>Then if was the turn of the old man to rape her back orifice. Her sex was by now too stretched to bring any pleasure to a normal-sized cock. It was gaping wide and dripping cum mixed with some blood.<br/><br/>At last, after peeing on her chest, the three men abandoned her. She was lying on her back on the tree stump. It took her some time to fall from it. Her spine was stiff from having been pounding against the wooden edges for so long. Her neck was weighed down by the heavy yoke and her feet by the roller-skates. She was suffering from a hammering head-ache and her pussy was throbbing with agony. A strong smell of sperm and urine was emanating from her soiled torso.<br/><br/>She managed to get back on her knees, and then on her feet. The grass of the square was helping her to walk on the wheels of her shoes as it did not allow them to roll freely. As she stood up, her corset fell down, leaving her with only her stained skirt, socks, elbow and knee pads to cover her battered body.<br/><br/>With difficulty, she staggered along the square and got back on the fifth avenue.