The Singing Contest, Part 2
Jia knew instantly that the pain burning across her back came from the whip in Dohyung’s hand, and the realization hit her like ice water. She had expected him to do something while she sang—she just never imagined it would be this. Yet the song kept playing, and Jia frantically picked up the melody again, forcing the words out.
She had barely managed what she thought were a few bars when another explosion of agony ripped across her spine. Her legs gave out. She crumpled to the floor. Jia had endured countless beatings from Dohyung by now, but nothing had prepared her for pain like this. It was in a league of its own. He had whipped her before, but those had been SM toys designed to deliver controlled sting, and even then he had held back. This whip offered no such mercy. The lash felt like liquid fire, far beyond anything she could sing through.
“Ugh… Aaaack!”
Every time she staggered to her feet and tried to continue, the whip cracked from behind without fail, slicing her voice into broken fragments. By the time the song finally ended, the total lines she had managed to sing barely added up to ten bars. The score that flashed up was a miserable twenty points.
Despair flooded her. She considered singing again to raise her score, but the terror of that whip coming down once more froze her in place. Jiseon and Eunji, who had watched the entire ordeal, felt the same paralyzing fear. If their singing was going to be sabotaged like that, how could they possibly reach a high score? Yet they could not simply refuse. Ending the game on Jia’s twenty points would mean collective punishment for all of them.
This was a three-star game. The penalty would undoubtedly be something agonizing. They could not let it end here.
“Is this the end?”
Dohyung looked at Jiseon and Eunji as they wavered, his voice calm.
“This game has no time limit. Stop whenever you want. But when you do, the most recent score becomes each person’s final score. And as I told you before, if you don’t get over eighty points… you know what happens, right?”
“Yes, Master…”
“If you want to end it, simply have no one step forward for the next song. After a song finishes, I’ll wait exactly one minute. If nobody comes out in that time, the game ends.”
The two women nodded, throats tight.
“Then who wants to go next?”
“I’ll do it, Master.”
Jiseon stepped forward. She took the microphone from Jia’s trembling hand and selected one of her usual karaoke songs. The choice of song hardly mattered. What mattered was breaking eighty points somehow.
Her heart hammered as she waited for the intro to finish. This game was both cooperative and cutthroat. They all needed to clear eighty to avoid group punishment, yet the moment they did, it became a ruthless individual contest where the lowest score would be singled out. Dohyung had crafted something truly demonic.
In this twisted arena, interfering with others was forbidden. But once it turned individual, the person in last place held dangerous power. If provoked, they could deliberately tank their score on a retry and drag everyone down with them. After all, they were going to be punished anyway—why not make everyone suffer? Greed would destroy them all. Jiseon cursed Dohyung silently as the music began.
She sang the opening lyrics, every muscle braced for the whip. She knew tension made the pain slightly more bearable, so she stayed hyper-alert, waiting for the strike.
Then she noticed him. Dohyung was standing right beside her.
“You… huh? Ugh!”
His fist drove into her stomach like a battering ram. The pain twisted her guts inside out. The song died in her throat as her knees slammed into the floor. Jiseon had been hit countless times—outside in fights, in sports, and by Dohyung in this very basement—but this single punch felt like it belonged in the top three worst moments of violence in her entire life.
She tried to stand, to continue singing, but her body refused. She waited for the next blow, yet Dohyung simply stared down at her kneeling form. He did not hit her again. There was no need. If she failed to score properly, punishment was guaranteed. He could enjoy breaking her then.
Jiseon forced herself up, teeth clenched against the lingering agony. Knowing he was right beside her, she edged away and tried to keep singing. She moved around the basement, circling desperately, doing anything to keep the lyrics flowing in case he struck again. But he caught up easily. His fist slammed into the exact same spot. She collapsed once more.
Running from him was pointless. In the end, Jiseon only managed two meager bars—worse than Jia. Her score was a pathetic single digit that barely registered.
Someone had to step forward again. If no one did, the game would end and all three would be punished for failing to reach eighty. Yet volunteering meant offering yourself up for more torture. It was not an easy choice.
Jia and Jiseon had already suffered. They turned their eyes to Eunji. She felt their stares and knew it was her turn, but her legs would not obey.
“Ten seconds left.”
Dohyung’s voice broke the stalemate. Eunji squeezed her eyes shut, grabbed the microphone with shaking hands, and stepped forward. She picked a song at random. The intro played. Her whole body trembled in anticipation of whatever Dohyung would do.
She began to sing. Surprisingly, he did not attack immediately. Wondering at the reprieve, Eunji poured everything into the performance, determined to score as high as possible while she could.
The song climbed toward its climax.
“You must have loved meeeeeeeee—AAAAAACK!”
White-hot pain exploded across her back. Eunji screamed and fell. When she twisted around to see what had happened, horror froze her in place. Dohyung stood over her, holding a lit candle, its flame dancing.
She understood instantly. The searing agony was molten wax dripping onto her skin. The pain of burning flesh—something she had sworn never to feel again after it destroyed her face—had returned. Trauma swallowed her. The mere sight of the candle drained every last ounce of willpower. Her body shook violently. She could not stand. She simply remained on the floor, trembling, until the song ended.
When it finally did, she forgot to pass the microphone. She could only stare at the candle in Dohyung’s hand, shivering. He seized her by the hair, dragged her across the floor, and hurled her against the wall.
“When the song ends, move immediately so the next person can sing. Stop being a nuisance.”
Dohyung blew out the candle, snatched the microphone from her limp fingers, and turned to the others.
“Now, who wants to try next?”
He held the microphone out to Jia and Jiseon. They noticed something different in his expression. Usually he watched their suffering with the delighted eyes of a child playing with a new toy. Today there was no smile. The cruelty was the same, but the atmosphere had changed.
Still, they had no time to dwell on it. Refusing the microphone would end the game and bring punishment to all. Yet accepting it meant walking blindly into whatever fresh torment Dohyung had prepared. Their hesitation was brief. They took the microphone with reluctant hands and stepped forward again and again.
Each attempt ended the same way—low scores, broken singing, fresh pain. If the game had possessed a time limit or a fixed number of turns, they could have surrendered to collective punishment. But Dohyung had deliberately given them the power to end it themselves. That knowledge turned every choice into self-inflicted torment. They could not bring themselves to stop. So the cycle continued.
And they were not the only ones suffering.
Sujin and Hyemin, forced to watch from the sidelines, endured their own private hell. Dohyung had ordered them to keep the thick dildos buried inside their pussies until the game ended. They had assumed it would not take long. Even if it did, they had expected a clear time limit. Learning there was none—that the game would only end when the three singers chose to stop—meant they had to maintain focus for what felt like an eternity.
At first the massive toys only hurt. But as their bodies adjusted to the size, the constant fullness began to trigger unwanted reactions. Their inner walls clenched and fluttered, trying to push the intruders out. They fought desperately to hold them in. The harder they resisted, the stronger the contractions became. The two women hovered on the edge of madness.
Having witnessed exactly what was being done to Jia, Jiseon, and Eunji, they lived in terror of what would happen if they failed. So they endured, muscles burning, sweat pouring, eyes fixed on the nightmare unfolding before them.
Time dragged on. No one reached eighty points.
“In the end, you couldn’t get over eighty,” Dohyung said, his voice soft with dark satisfaction. “Then… I guess you’ll have to receive your punishment, right?”