Pussy Spanking Punishment
Heo Seong-ah, returned to the Special Livestock Service Facility for her pussy spanking punishment, first entered the physical therapy room. Freed from her restraints and opening her eyes, she spotted the array of corporal punishment tools adorning the walls and began trembling violently as the trauma from the previous day flooded back.
"B62, dinner tonight will be skipped. The 'training session' scheduled after dinner will also be omitted."
"Yes..."
"From now until bedtime, you'll undergo punishment. If you have any complaints, voice them here and now."
"Hic..."
Complaints? She had so many she could voice them all day and it still wouldn't be enough. But how was she supposed to put any of them into words?
"...None."
"Understood."
Heo Seong-ah maintained her obedient demeanor, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Tears welled up, but she took deep breaths to corral her emotions. She was nothing but a helpless piece of livestock, after all. The smart move was to meekly cater to the Manager's whims.
"Good. I'll take that to mean B62 is reflecting on her sins."
"Thank you, Manager..."
"Then we'll prepare for the 'first' punishment."
"Yes? Y-yes..."
Did she hear that wrong? The words "first punishment" grated harshly in her ears. Just how many punishments was she in for...?
"B62, sit here and wait quietly. Proceed."
"Yes, Manager."
The spot the Manager indicated with his hand held a chair resembling the humiliating gynecological exam seat. The difference lay in its adjustable leg supports, which could spread a full 180 degrees, and a vertically tilting headrest.
"Restraining you."
"Yes..."
The Manager secured Heo Seong-ah's ankles firmly to the chair. Once he'd bound her thighs and pelvis too, rendering her utterly immobile, all she could manage was to wiggle her toes. Next, he fastened rubber belts around her waist and shoulders. For some reason, he left her hands free.
"Restraint complete. Your legs might ache a little now—just endure it."
"Y-yes..?"
Creak, creak—
"Kuhuk!!"
The Manager pressed a button, and the leg restraints slowly parted left and right.
"Aaaahk..! Kyaaak!!"
Heo Seong-ah counted herself fairly flexible, but as her legs splayed fully horizontal at 180 degrees, a tearing agony ripped through her muscles. Even to the naked eye, the rubber-band-taut strain in her thighs was visible.
"Kuuuuuhuk!!"
It hurt like dying, but after a few minutes, numbness set in. While she clenched her teeth and stifled her screams, the Manager busied himself with preparations. He took up a leather riding crop in one hand and a small, paint-can-like container in the other.
"B62, punishment begins now."
"Yes, Manager..."
The Manager swung the riding crop lightly to limber his wrist. In this position, her ass was out of reach... so probably her breasts, lower belly, thighs, soles? Anxious about enduring it, she squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open.
"Eh..?"
Against all expectation... the riding crop in the Manager's hand settled gently atop her pussy.
"Hic..?"
Tap tap— As if picking his spot, he lightly smacked around her pussy, then positioned the crop on the upper mound, perfectly centered over her clit.
"Ah, haa..."
"B62, what's that reaction? Don't like it?"
"Hic..."
No, scary... She couldn't force out any negative words.
"Isn't your offense all because of this pussy? Hitting it will be far more effective than anywhere else."
"Hic..!"
Tap tap— Her waist shivered at the riding crop's light impacts. Even these gentle taps stung fiercely... A full-force strike would be unimaginable.
Even now, her stimulated pussy wept slick arousal, clinging stickily. As if anticipating the blows...
"No need to squirm—I'll hit you anyway."
"Hic..."
"Now... how many strikes?"
"Y-yes..?"
"B62, you decide: how many strikes fit your crime?"
Her mind reeled from the sadistic question. She didn't even see it as a major offense... but to pick the number herself?
"Uh..."
"For reference, if your number's lower than mine, I'll deem your reflection insufficient and multiply by ten."
"Hic..!"
She'd meant to say ten casually, but a hiccup sealed her lips.
"B62, I'm not the patient type, and you've pissed me off plenty today. So quit stalling like an idiot and answer."
"Hic..."
The Manager's grip tightened on the crop.
"Hng..."
Ten... enough? No, too low? Twenty... too much?
"B62, no answer now, and I'll whip till your pussy spurts blood. Got it?"
"F-fifty... fifty strikes!"
Ten... twenty... thirty... Lost on the right number, she'd escalated to fifty. What if it still fell short?
"Fifty strikes..."
The Manager's lip twitched upward, unsettlingly.
"B62, once more: fifty? Enough to reflect?"
"Hic..."
What's his angle? Fifty too few?
"Th-then sixty..."
"Pfft, puhaha!!"
The Manager burst out laughing at floppy-eared Heo Seong-ah.
"B62, absolute last chance. Sixty it is?"
"Hng, hic..."
How many more did he envision? Say sixty against his mind, and it'd balloon to six hundred. Seventy... no, hundred. Neat hundred?
"I'll take a hundred..."
Mind in chaos, eyes shut, she blurted her peak guess. Triple-plus her initial thirty.
"B62, hundred strikes?"
"Yes..."
No more hikes.
"Good. Very good, B62."
The Manager smirked creepily, over and over.
"Such a reflective attitude—I love it. Willing to take twenty times what I had in mind."
"Y-yes..e..?"
What? Eyes bulging, words failed her.
"I figured five was plenty. You jumped to thirty, so I worried it was excessive and offered redoes—but you kept upping... pfft, sorry."
She grasped his laughter now.
"N-no way..."
Not too low—he'd re-asked because too high?
Oblivious, she'd inflated to a hundred?
"Nooo... hic..."
Wish she'd stopped at ten. Regret changed nothing now.
"B62, no injustice here. This is the sin's weight you chose."
"Hng, hic..."
"Tears won't alter it. Take your punishment meekly."
The crop's flat side rubbed her pussy up and down, teasingly.
"You've never tasted a pussy whipping—that's why the choice."
His ideal: a mere five. Five alone would have anyone shrieking in tears. Once the agony imprinted, livestock never repeated the sin.
"Poor thing..."
Exactly five suited her punishment... yet.
"Sweetly accept your self-made fate."
"Hic..."
The crop caressing her pussy arced skyward. It hurtled down in a swift parabola...
Crack—
Whipping across her bound pussy flesh.
"Hik!"
At impact, a sharp yelp escaped as she bit her lip hard. The delayed agony overwhelming, her hands shot down to clutch and rub her pussy.
"Kyaaaaak!! Haa, kuhk..!"
Just one strike... and it hurt too much. This wasn't punishment—it was exquisite torture.
"B62."
"Hng, hic..."
"B62!!"
"Yess..!"
The Manager bellowed to demand response.
"Know why I bound you tight but freed your arms?"
"Hng, hic... haa... no..."
"Simple reason. Pure hitting lacks fun. Every pussy touch adds one strike. Clear?"
"Hic..."
Her pussy blazed like fire, driving her mad... endure sans hands how? Mute, she nodded to his vicious command.
"And..."
It wasn't over yet.