Felina immediately set to cut the rope with her extra-hard finger nails, sawing it just next to the place they passed through the hole. She was imagining the consternated face of the man who had wrapped this impossibly long rope as she would break out of it in less time he had needed to bind it.

However, after about one minute of sawing, she began to realise something was wrong. By that time, the rope should have been sawed to threads but it seemed intact, totally untouched. The cruel reality exploded to her mind: this rope was made out of steel threads. There was no way she could cut it off! As the severity of her bondage appeared clearly to her, she let out a long muffled moan of anger and despair, while her whole body clenched and twitched in mid-air.

After a bout of useless struggling against her bonds, Felina tried to calm down and explore her bondage. She tried to pull on the steel rope that was salami-ed around her forearms, but to no avail. It would not budge. She investigated some more and found that the same steel cable was threaded through the links of the chain wrapped around her wrists. Some of these strands could not be moved either, but she found two of them that were slack. She began to pull on them with the tip of her fingers. She soon found one of the ends of the cable. It was threaded through the chain that was pulling her backward to her ankle spreader bar.

She began to push it toward the bar with one hand, while the other hand checked on the three other strands to see if any got some slack. For a long time, nothing seemed to change but she continued pushing the cable upwards, while doing little move with her chest so as to make the chain links tighten and loosen around, ensuring the cable would not remain clamped somewhere along the way.

This was a meticulous, slow, frustrating, cramping task, accomplished in the most painful position that could be imagined. Felina's body was dripping with sweat and her muscles were throbbing with cramps. In her artificial darkness, she had no way to assess her progression, nor to monitor the passing of time. She was slowly swinging from the ceiling, a grotesque, rolled up, bulging girlish body with an obscene dildo protruding out of her hooded head.

At last she felt some slack in one of the strands coming from the spreader bar. She was now able to push on one strand while she pulled on the other, doubling her snail speed to reach slug speed. Her fingers were knotted with cramps and the sweat made them glide on the steel cable, but she continued her efforts. Finally, the end of the strand passed beyond her fingers and she pulled on the downward strand with both hands instead.

Just at this moment, she heard the timer buzz the end of the 15 minutes. Four hours and 45 minutes already. She began to wonder is she would free herself before the end of the six hours...