Since the morning Kreacher and Winky suckled on milk straight from the prisoner’s own breasts, while Kreacher’s training rod was buried in her backdoor. Hermione clamped automatically on Winky’s buzzing silver sphere in her rutting cunt, the resulting tears was the last non-sexual secretion her body could manage, the countless days of abuse had conditioned her body for levels of treatment she still found difficult to understand. Life was now just a series of punishments that she passively lived through. The length and girth of the instruments had increased, as did her ability to absorb and internalise the pain, on less bad days she would suck on her mouth dildo, her stretched tongue never able to find a truly comfortable position in her mouth, always aching to be stretched out like when she undertook her pussy licking training sessions. Her past life with friends and goals seemed like a distant dream, she had past the point of wondering if reliving past sessions via pensieve port in her collar was adversely effecting her ability to recall happier times.