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    A shuddering shock rippled through Seoyoon’s lower abdomen, leaving him trembling and unable to think. Could a few spanks really hurt this much? As he clenched his fists, struggling to endure the pain and bewilderment, Kwon Kijung’s cold voice cut through him like ice water.

    “Aren’t you counting?”

    “Ngh, sorry… o-one.”

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    “Start again.”

    He felt like he might actually cry. Unless he wanted to quit, he had to see this through. Smack, another searing pain shot up his spine.

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    “Ah, one!”

    His count was punctuated by a scream, echoing loudly like a military cadence. Before he could collect himself, the second and third blows landed on his swollen flesh. Two, three, four, five… Seoyoon cried out, but didn’t forget to count. The accumulating pain intensified with each strike, and he felt like his skin might tear.

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    Not just his stinging buttocks, but his entire body burned. Tears welled up from the heat, and his eyes ached. Slap, slap, with each impact, his waist bucked and his dangling feet tangled and untangled repeatedly.

    “Ah! E-eight.”

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    He was at the ninth strike. As the hand that had delivered the painful blows rose again, whistling through the air, Seoyoon instinctively twisted his body. He had been lying face down on Kijung’s thighs, but now he turned onto his side.

    Rational thought had abandoned him. Seoyoon covered his buttocks with his hands and pleaded.

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    “D-Director. Director, please, just a moment. Just a moment…”

    He felt that if he could just rest for a bit, he could endure the remaining twelve strikes. He turned his tear-filled eyes to look up at Kwon Kijung, but his face remained impassive.

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    He quickly realized his mistake. Before he could turn back over, Kijung sighed lightly, as if disappointed, at Seoyoon’s trembling lips.

    “I put you on my lap because you seemed to be taking it well.”

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    “I’m sorry. I-it just hurt so much.”

    “Didn’t I tell you what to do if you wanted to stop?”

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    “It’s not that I want to stop…”

    “Get up.”

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    It was a firm command. Without hesitation, Seoyoon clumsily rose from Kijung’s lap. Naked, his buttocks burning, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t see his backside, but he imagined it was bright red.

    How ridiculous he must have looked, trying to avoid the punishment by squirming away, naked and pathetic. As Seoyoon hung his head, wrestling with shame, Kijung pointed.

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    “Lie down on the dining table over there.”

    He indicated the dining table in the room. It was large enough to accommodate Seoyoon with room to spare, as befitted a table in a spacious suite.

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    Unable to ask what Kijung intended, Seoyoon obeyed. The coolness of the table, which had felt startling when he’d first spread his legs on the sofa table, was now a welcome relief against his burning skin. But when he lay down and the chill reached his back, he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

    By the time Seoyoon was lying down, Kijung had approached the table. He carried the black hard briefcase he had placed by the sofa.

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    No, what had looked like a briefcase wasn’t just a briefcase. Though he couldn’t see inside, the item Kijung produced made its purpose clear.

    Seoyoon’s throat bobbed. He didn’t know the exact name of the object in Kijung’s hand, but he understood its function well enough.

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    “I was going to finish with just my hand if you endured it well, but since you dodged, you’ll have to receive additional punishment.”

    Now, tears threatened not from pain, but from despair. Unable to respond, he silently endured as Kijung moved his body.

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    What Kijung took from the case was a type of restraint. Unlike ordinary handcuffs that bound both wrists together, these were shackles designed to restrain a wrist and ankle on the same side. Thick leather cuffs were fastened around his wrists and ankles.

    His right wrist and right ankle, left wrist and left ankle, were each connected by a short chain, completely restricting his movement. The mere act of being bound made him tremble, knowing he couldn’t even get off the table on his own.

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    The uncertainty of what awaited him was terrifying. He wanted to hide his fear, but he couldn’t control the instinctive tremors that wracked his body.

    Lying there on the cold table, bound like a discarded object, he thought that being on Kijung’s lap had been much better. He should have endured a little longer. He couldn’t even handle twenty spanks.

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    “From now on, you’ll be hit with this paddle.”

    Having secured the shackles, the man held up an unfamiliar tool before Seoyoon’s eyes.

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    Though unfamiliar, its purpose was obvious. It was a flat, wide, rectangular leather paddle with a handle, like an elongated ping-pong paddle. Covered entirely in matte black leather, it seemed far more impersonal and cruel than a hand warmed by body heat. Seoyoon’s breath hitched, and his chest heaved.

    “I’ll hit you twenty times, just like before. You have to count. Tell me now if you don’t want to.”

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    He was terrified, but he had come too far to give up. Seoyoon shook his head. The gesture could be interpreted as both a refusal to quit and a plea to avoid the punishment. Kwon Kijung didn’t bother clarifying.

    A single tear traced a path down Seoyoon’s cheek, following the movement of his head. A faint smile touched Kijung’s lips.

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    “Suddenly calling me Director makes me feel like we’re back at the office. It ruins the mood.”

    He wiped away Seoyoon’s tear with his thumb.

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    “While we’re playing, call me Master. How about that?”

    While Seoyoon was desperate, clinging to this as an opportunity, for Kijung, it was just a new amusement.

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    He knew this going in, but the pain and fear made the words sting, tightening his chest with a strange sorrow. Trying to control his emotions, Seoyoon nodded.

    “Yes.”

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    “Say it. Master.”

    “Master…”

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    “Good boy.”

    Kijung’s knuckles gently caressed his cheek. His tone was as soft as his touch.

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    “Can you take it well this time?”

    “I… can take it well.”

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    “I’m sure you can. It’s much better than being cut with a knife.”

    He was right. It was excruciating, but it was certainly less painful than being slashed open.

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    It was strange. The moment he called him Master and said he could take it, Seoyoon genuinely wanted to endure it well. At least he didn’t want to repeat the embarrassing spectacle of squirming and wriggling like before.

    This “game,” however twisted, had begun because a fragment of Kwon Kijung’s desire had snagged on something within him. He was the one who had gambled on this slim chance, so he wanted to do it well. In truth, that was how Seoyoon approached everything in life.

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    Kijung grasped both of Seoyoon’s ankles and lifted them, exposing his buttocks and leaving his feet dangling in the air. His bound wrists were also awkwardly raised.

    Seoyoon inhaled sharply, as if suppressing a sob. The cold, hard paddle grazed his exposed skin, as if taking aim.

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    Smack!

    The sound that followed was hard and cold, unlike the sound of flesh on flesh. Seoyoon gasped, unable to scream.

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    “Ha- haa…”

    Kijung didn’t immediately continue, but held the paddle against his skin, waiting. Seoyoon whimpered, moving his lips.

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    “O-one…”

    The paddle tapped his buttocks lightly, as if in approval. The reprieve ended there. The second blow followed without pause.

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    “Agh! H-two…”

    He cried out and barely managed to count. He couldn’t bear the sudden, sharp pain quietly. Tears welled up and streamed down his temples. As the third blow landed, he clenched his hands, grasping at the empty air. But the more he strained his arms, the more his connected ankles were pulled upwards, only making the punishment easier to deliver.

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    “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

    Whenever he closed his eyes to escape the pain, Kijung would call him out. Smack! The sound of the paddle striking flesh, his cries, and the small, strained gasps as he counted continued.

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    The knowledge that he would have to start over if he lost focus kept Seoyoon going. Kijung’s face, which he hadn’t been able to see when lying face down, was fixed in his blurry vision. He wore a faint smile throughout the punishment.

    “Aagh… thirteen…”

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    Past ten, his toes curled and his waist began to twitch uncontrollably. If Kijung wasn’t holding his ankles, he might have collapsed like before.

    Watching the paddle rise, Seoyoon couldn’t help but speak.

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    “It hurts…”

    “It hurts?”

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    “It hurts so much. Stop…”

    “What did we agree you should do if you want to stop?”

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    He had blurted out his pain as if possessed, but the agreed-upon safe word wouldn’t come. Perhaps he just wanted to buy a little more time. Kwon Kijung likely knew this and was playing along. As proof, Kijung stroked his throbbing buttocks as if examining them.

    That was it. Smack! Perhaps as punishment for his ploy, the next blow was harder than the previous ones. His thighs trembled, and the chains connecting his wrists and ankles rattled. Seoyoon’s moans were now closer to sobs. Fourteen, fifteen. He continued counting through his tears. There were still six more to go. Or rather, he had already endured fourteen. It was too much to give up now.

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    His clenched fists pulled at his legs, and his trembling toes twitched. It felt like his buttocks were numb, yet with each strike, the pain grew sharper and more intense. Sixteen, seventeen. Seoyoon sobbed as he continued to count.

    “You’ve endured well, Seoyoon-ssi. This is the last one.”

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    “Sob, sob.”

    “I thought you’d miss a count at least once, but you did much better than I expected.”

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    The last one. At those words, he squeezed his eyes shut. Perhaps because it followed praise for his endurance, the final blow landed lighter than he’d feared.

    “Twenty…”

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    He counted the final number. His feet touched the table, and his raised buttocks followed. His knees buckled, and spasms ran through his waist and pelvis. He was drenched in sweat, as if he had just finished a strenuous workout.

    Kijung quickly released the shackles. Freed, his limbs went limp, his body collapsing like melted rubber. Kijung looked down at him and asked,

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    “Can’t get up?”

    “Hngh… no. No. I’ll, I’ll get up.”

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    He was suddenly afraid that Kijung would find another excuse to punish him if he couldn’t get up. As Seoyoon struggled to sit up, Kijung stepped closer and slipped his arms under his shoulders and behind his knees.

    Before Seoyoon could guess his intention, Kijung lifted him into his arms. Startled, Seoyoon stiffened.

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