untill I am satisfied

I turned to look at him with teary eyes, hoping he’d have mercy. But it only made his smirk grow deeper. It gave him more reason.

Spank!

His hand came in contact with my skin—harder this time—leaving a sting like the rest. It was just spanking. I told myself I wouldn't cry, but I became a crying mess. I felt violated. Treated like a child being punished.

“Please, I…” my voice cracked.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, placing his hand on my neck and turning my face toward him.

“Yes, please just stop. It’s hurting really bad.”

“Good,” he said coldly. “That’s what I want to hear. I’m not halfway done with you yet. Begging me is just a waste of time.”

I adjusted myself on him, barely able to sit properly. “How many are you planning on giving me?” I asked the one question that had been lurking in my mind.

He adjusted himself too, holding me steady with firm hands.

“Hmmm… it depends,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess… as many as my heart wishes—until I’m satisfied.”

I wiped the tears streaming down my cheeks. “I’m still not feeling too well. My head hurts… and if you don’t stop, I might fall sick,” I lied, hoping that would soften him.

He chuckled—a short one—quickly followed by a serious tone.

“That’s not going to happen. If I were you, I’d start counting. If I don’t know how many I’ve given you, I’ll feel it’s not enough.”

What does he mean by “that’s not going to happen”? Is he my body? Does he know the pain I’m feeling right now?

“Bullshit,” I blurted out angrily and tried to sit up, but he pinned me back down.

“It’s like you want me to tie you up.”

Spank!

“Ahhh! Stop treating me—”

Spank!

“—like a child!” I sobbed.

He continued, doing as he pleased, not paying attention to anything I had to say. It hurt—to find myself this vulnerable in a situation I had no control over. This wasn’t even my fault. How was I supposed to tell him that Savik had attacked me? That I was delayed because of him?

But I cried even harder because I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I guess the only thing I could do now was to swallow my pride and count each spank on my already sore ass.

Spank!

“One…” I whimpered.

He didn’t waste time—it followed immediately with another.

Spank!

“Two…”

He switched to my other cheek, the one he hadn’t touched yet. I felt a weird relief because the previous side was already hot and red from the continuous spanking.

And on and on I counted, hoping he would stop anytime soon. With every new spank, my hands itched to touch the place he kept hitting, but I knew better. If I gave in to that urge, the consequences would only get worse.

At some point, I lost count. I didn’t know if I was still on twenty or thirty—I just said numbers that followed. He didn’t correct me. He was probably enjoying every bit of it.

If only I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have gone to the bathroom alone or left Vulvan’s side in the first place. Now this—this was him fulfilling the promise he made to me. By the time he was done, I didn’t think I’d be able to sit again. I couldn’t even feel my ass anymore. It was like it had gone numb.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the fiftieth one.

But it never came.

What’s going on?

Has he stopped?

Or… is he just taking a break?

I lay there, clueless and confused.

“I guess that’s enough,” he finally said.

I exhaled, relief washing over me. His hands wrapped around mine as he helped me sit up. I groaned in pain and discomfort. My knees wobbled beneath me as I found myself kneeling on the bed, facing him. One of his legs slid between mine, holding me steady.

I must have looked pathetic. My hair was scattered and stuck to my face, wet with tears and sweat. I could taste my own sadness on my lips.

His hand reached for my face, gently brushing away the strands of hair glued to my skin. I let him do it but looked away. I knew he’d want to meet my eyes—to read me, to see through me—but I couldn’t allow that. I didn’t want him to see how broken I truly was.

My eyes darted to the bed. I saw how my tears had soaked the sheets.

He really had made me cry an ocean.

I tried to get up, but he held my hips, forcing me to grab his shoulders for balance.

“I’ve learnt my lesson. I won’t do it again. Can I go now?” I mumbled, still refusing to meet his gaze.

His silence lingered. It annoyed me. Then finally—

“No,” he said, sternly.

I clenched my jaw in frustration. He knew I hated being told no. That annoying grin spread across his face like he was proud of breaking me.

His hands traced the curves of my hips, up and down, his eyes drifting to the mirror across from us, getting a full view of my red, swollen backside.

“Ouch… that’ll leave a mark,” he muttered like he was impressed.

He was rubbing salt in my wounds. But I refused to give him the reaction he wanted.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said coldly, pulling away from him.

The moment my sore backside hit the mattress, I instantly regretted it. I yelped, flipping onto my tummy as the burning pain spread like wildfire through my body. I had forgotten I’d just been spanked relentlessly.

I guess sitting properly wasn’t an option anymore.

“Your biggest enemy,” he said, standing up, “is your stubbornness. You never listen.”

He walked away, leaving me stunned and sore on the bed. But a moment later, he returned with a small jar in his hand.

He sat down beside me again. The bed dipped under his weight.

“Stay still,” he instructed, his voice softer now.

He lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing my burning skin. I flinched as his hand came in contact with it, but this time, it was different. His touch wasn’t harsh—it was careful. Gentle.

I lay on my tummy, quietly watching him apply ointment to the places he had struck. His hand moved as though he were afraid to crush me, as though he hadn’t been the one who caused all this pain.

It was confusing. It was maddening.

Why was he now acting like he cared?