The combination of words were no hollow threat, Hermione suffered through each test with all the stoicism she could muster, dwelling on the fact this new abuse was to be made permanent, she did anticipate that her tormentor would decide to run all settings at once, but she underestimated the torment. The convulsions of electric shocks while the douching liquid chugged out magically from the plug made her insides feel like she had some kind of white-hot reverse diarrhoea. Hermione knew she had blacked out with the pain, because when she came to, she was back on her stomach, sandwiched now with another layer of metal. The breastplate’s barbed lining stinging her tits as her full torso was now cocooned in metal. She she could feel the new weight of more metal at her tailbone keeping the earlier plug rigidly seated in her spasming ass, combining with the oppressive feel of the backplate covering her entire length of her spine, little by little she was being subsumed by her dark portable prison.