This weeks word is Frame and as always thanks to the genius Kripke for the material we borrow and to my playpen playmates.

The frame was made from rough hewn timbers and the sharp edges marked his pale skin with a cruel tracery of tears and grazes.

He flexed against the impossibly tight bindings feeling the skin scuff from his wrists and ankles as he struggled.

The movement earned him yet another brutal blow to the gut and he retched painfully although there had long since ceased to be anything but traces of blood to vomit.

Tears welled in his eyes but he bit back the urge to scream, unwilling to give them the pleasure of hearing his agony.

"F...fuck...y...you!"

He gasped defiantly.

Any good?