Griffith Berserk Torture Novels & Stories

On the screen, Grix's pale face was smeared with blood while someone ripped out his fingernails one by one with pliers. There was no sound, yet Grix's twisted expression and silent screams made it even more horrifying. "You know him, don't you?" Eric asked, sliding his thumb across the screen to the next video. In the new video, Grix was pinned to a metal table while someone injected a clear liquid into his vein. Grix thrashed wildly, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. "He's enjoying a kind of 'treatment' you could never imagine." Eric kept his phone and released Matthew's hair. "Sven's new experiment—it keeps people conscious while amplifying pain tenfold."

BLAISE Erick's cries pierced the air as I approached the winery's entrance. Apathetic to his pain, the guards bowed deeply, granting me passage through the imposing doors. Inside, Erick was a battered shell of a man, restrained to a chair. His body was a canvas of torture, painted with blood and marred by the lashes he had endured. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood seeped from his wounded fingers, staining the floor beneath him. Clad only in his shorts, the scars and welts on his skin told a story of relentless punishment. I observed him coldly before shifting my gaze to Leo, who stood in the shadows, overseeing the warriors as they dealt their harsh punishment.

Pain? But I forced it down. She deserved this. And more. So much more. As the whipping continued, Grace’s voice grew quieter, her cries of protest becoming softer, weaker. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Berrilyl had done this. She’d hurt Grace. And I would make sure she never forgot that. I looked at her eyes and saw that it was full of revenge, there was nothing like remorse in it and if she was determined to take any revenge out of stupidity I'd love to see her try.

He yanks my hair painfully, his eyes are ablaze with a malicious smirk. "I should just fuck you till you bleed!" He rams into me brutally. Relentless. Merciless. My scrotum is burning with the insane desire for release. I can feel my orgasm nearing, but the only thing that jolts through my dick is intense discomfort. The rod is preventing it from coming out "Pierce, it's going to explode, take it out!" Pierce's expression is deranged and cruel as he twists the tube deeper still. I'm a sobbing mess but he continues the torture until I feel as though I'll die.

I see her then, surrounded by three berserkers, each the size of a tree, foam dripping from their jaws. I break into a sprint. I shift mid-run, my limbs elongating, fur tearing through my skin in a painful rush. The world sharpens. My growl reverberates through the battlefield. I leap, claws sinking into the back of one berserker’s neck. We tumble together, a tangle of fur and fury. He howls and tries to shake me off, but I sink my teeth into his shoulder until I hear bone crunch. Another slams into me from the side. Pain explodes in my ribs. I hit the ground hard, vision blurring. But I get back up. I always get back up.

"Berserkers were strong and easily controlled. The demon lords used that to their advantage, forcing us to turn and fight for them." "They forced you?" Her heart clenched. "Yes." "How did they..." she broke off, suspecting she already knew the answer. His golden eyes darkened. "We were tortured. Relentlessly. Some of us never turned back." First tortured and then cursed. How had he even survived? "Sebastian-" "It's done," he cut her off stiffly. Then he softened, leaning down and whispering in her ear, "The only thing I care about now is hearing you scream my name when I make you come."

He liked it when I was pathetic, it usually made him reduce how many strokes he hit me with. "Oh I'll make sure it doesn't. Turn the back of your palm," he growled. The tears I fought so desperately to hold back were falling freely now, but my chest was empty. My heart couldn't feel any more pain, just my body. Slowly, I stretched out my hands, facing my palms downwards. I prepared myself mentally for the torture. Beta Garrick lashed the cain on my skin with a crack, and I cried out in pain. "That'll teach you," He said, his hands not relenting.

Walking over to the torture table, I grabbed a whip from the array of tools there and folded it firmly around my fingers. The hard handle of the whip dug into my fingers, but I ignored it and landed the whip on the Elder with full force. It landed square on his back, and he howled in agony. His back was previously broken, and such an attack on it again would only serve to worsen his pain. Continuously, I whipped him hard until his clothes were torn and visible lacerations were on his body. He kept howling loudly, and his eyes flashed from their normal hue to a yellowish one as he half-morphed and struggled with all his might against the chain, but they didn't budge.

Beki snuggled against our bond, but the part of me that had spent four decades in the company of demons couldn’t believe he’d released us so easily. Beki gave me a sharp bark, making me slump back into my seat. Even if this was a trick, there was nothing I could do about it without the help of a shaman or Fenrir. Griff took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You should have saved yourself.” My throat thickened. How could he even ask after everything I had done to him? Griff might have suffered a painful death, but he didn’t know the horror of torture or the Punishment Pits. There was no way I could subject my mate to more agony.

He found no strength to express his pain, so he just groaned. “Please, I’m begging you,” she cried, “Let him go.” T-Murek forced his arm through the cavity in Sinclair’s chest. More blood spilled. Sinclair cried out in pain, his eyes wildly open. He pulled Sinclair’s arteries out of his chest while looking at Rebecca, a cocky smile on his lips. The grin on T-Murek’s face showed he enjoyed every bit of the torture. Sinclair uttered a breathless gasp, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Rebecca whimpered as she moved her hand to cover her mouth, watching T-Murek pull on his viscera. A thin line of tears flowed from her eyes at such revolting sight.