Hermione already felt like her body had betrayed her, she didn’t hold out any hope that the situation was going to improve. She could see the glimmer of golden implements in the hands of the house elves, as her torture continued. Kreacher seemed to be obsessed with her breasts, he showed the captive the heavy gold clamp in his hand. "Well little Muddy, your baby tits are a joke, the Masters will not be happy, we’ll have to fix "em later, I’ll decorate them for you now so they won’t look so lonely". He directed the set of clamps to engulf her aureolas. Hermione grimaced, feeling the bite of the serrated teeth as they gripped to her abused breast-meat, it was a testament to the depths of depravity that Hermione had descended to, that she was content that the clamps were uncomfortably tight but not painful. Hermione was not prepared for this discomfort to ratchet to excruciating pain, as Kreacher maliciously tightened each metal clamps mangling her breasts in golden mini vices without warning, working with immoderate gusto to get the clamps to their tightest settings.