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It wasn’t the first time Hongjoong had sought her out after that night.
The shadows of the other woman lingered—specters that danced a waltz on the blurred line between reality and imagination. Almond-shaped eyes cloaked in a heavy veil of guilt haunted her relentlessly, weaving through the labyrinth of her mind, toying with the thread anchoring her to sanity, threatening to sever it and plunge her into the abyss of madness.
It wasn’t as if Seonghwa had been actively avoiding her. On the contrary, the older woman seemed to desperately cling to the places that had once been the cradle of their love. Sanctuaries that had echoed eternal vows but were now desecrated, silent witnesses to a passion that had left behind only wounds.
At times, habit carried her into living as though they were still together, ignoring—or perhaps stubbornly denying—the truth that the woman who had inflicted such a deep wound no longer belonged to her present, exiled from her future. A definitive exile , she repeated to herself with desperate conviction, as though trying to accept a truth her heart refused to acknowledge.
The firm grip of Hongjoong’s hand on her wrist, however, was an undeniable proof that this wasn’t another of the vivid hallucinations that tormented her. No. This time, it was real. She was really there, with pleading eyes and trembling lips.
Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she begged, “Please, Seonghwa, forgive me. Please.”
Seonghwa’s resolve crumbled so quickly it was humiliating, even to herself, shame settling like a heavy stone in her stomach. Her eyes scanned the pathetic figure clinging to her hand. Hongjoong’s once vibrant body was now a fragile shadow, a sad portrait of the penance she had chosen to endure for destroying the only thing of value in her life.
But Seonghwa’s determination flared back to life in an instant when her eyes landed on the bite marks currently adorning Hongjoong’s neck. In her mind, the sequence of events from the last time this had happened played out with painful clarity: Hongjoong, heavy tears streaming down her face in heartfelt remorse. A poignant drama that grotesquely transitioned into the next scene—Hongjoong, smiling, holding another girl in her arms just hours later.
“Fuck off, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa muttered.
A tremor ran through Hongjoong’s body, uncontrollable and raw, as the terror of final rejection settled deep into her bones. She understood the magnitude of her mistake—a rift so profound it could never be repaired. She knew, with painful certainty, that Seonghwa’s mercy was exhausted. She knew, with bitter certainty, that the day would come when Seonghwa would never look back. She knew, with cold certainty, that there was no way the sweet, pink-haired girl would ever open the chambers to her heart again.
And yet, her misery and stubbornness, her need and blindness, drove her to perform these acts with no shame. That was why she was there, at the end of the endless hallway leading to Seonghwa’s apartment, begging for another chance she didn’t deserve.
“Baby, please . I know I screwed everything up, but it’s been a year, and there hasn’t been anyone else in my mind but you. You’re the only thing I need, the only thing I’ve ever needed in my entire life, Park Seonghwa. Please, Hwa. ”
The pleas spilling from her lips like prayers were nothing but a familiar echo to Seonghwa: Hongjoong reciting, once again, the same old worn out repertoire. Empty words that, no matter their arrangement or tone, remained hollow promises destined to gather dust at Seonghwa’s feet.
“Let go of me, Hongjoong,” the woman demanded. Her voice lacked the sharp pain tiding her insides into a searing knot.
The indifference in Seonghwa’s round eyes paralyzed Hongjoong. Her stomach twisted violently, plummeting like a freefall to her feet. In her desperation, this felt like reason enough to grab Seonghwa, push open the door next to her, and pull her inside, clinging to the hope of staying.
The smell of dust and paralyzed time filled the emergency stairwell of the old building. Above them, a dim yellow light flickered weakly from a bulb caged in rusted metal. A faint breeze seeped through a small, dirty window, raising goosebumps on Seonghwa’s arms. The silence, broken only by their unsteady breaths, was oppressive, heavy with a sense of abandonment.
At that moment, an overwhelming urge to escape overtook Seonghwa, prompting her to shout, “Why are you acting like this, Hongjoong?!”
“I feel like I’ve gone crazy, Seonghwa,” the woman admitted, her voice cracking.
Rejecting Hongjoong’s touch with violent resistance, Seonghwa struggled to free herself from her suffocating grasp. She fought with frenzied desperation, twisting and resisting as though trapped in a nightmare she had to escape from.
Hongjoong did her best to restrain her, panting, “Why you so aggressive?”
Seonghwa stared at her, perplexed. In a swift movement, she pressed her palms against Hongjoong’s chest and shoved her with such force that her back collided with the rusted stair railing.
For a brief moment, fear paralyzed the pink-haired woman, who thought for a brief instant that her ex-lover would fall backwards. However, Hongjoong quickly regained her balance and immediately noticed the fleeting vulnerability Seonghwa had revealed in her moment of concern.
“I’ve changed, Hwa, I swear . I’m not the selfish woman you once knew. Let me prove it. Please, I’m only asking for one more chance,” Hongjoong insisted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, she began to approach Seonghwa again.
“Why don’t you go and ask your other sluts for a chance?”
Seonghwa’s cutting words made Hongjoong step back, a grimace of pain crossing her face. “Do you really think they could ever replace you?”
The younger woman moved closer until Seonghwa was pinned between her arms and the cold, unyielding wall. Their faces were so close that Hongjoong could count the freckles scattered across her former lover’s flushed cheeks, so close that she could see the doubt flickering in her dark eyes, so close that she could feel the faint tremor of her lower lip betraying her resolve.
“I’m tired of playing these games, Hwa. I need you—in every possible way,” Hongjoong’s sweet voice did nothing to mask the desperation underlying her words. However, the faint hesitation within Seonghwa disappeared entirely when she heard: “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”
The threat hardened Seonghwa’s heart. “Do you think you can come here and threaten me whenever it pleases you? You know I could ruin your life, Kim Hongjoong. Don’t tempt me.”
Hongjoong instantly regretted her words. “I didn’t mean it like that, Hwa, I—”
“On your knees,” Seonghwa interrupted. The command hit Hongjoong like a whip. Her eyes widened, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. “Right now,” Seonghwa pressed firmly, her voice unyielding.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Hongjoong obeyed. There was no doubt in her mind—this was exactly where she belonged, after having hurt the one she loved the most.
Being honest with herself, she had always enjoyed being on her knees before Seonghwa, worshiping her body with fervent devotion. Her lips would often trace every detail of her figure, a sweet journey across her olive-toned skin, pilgrimaging the holiest places of her body and venerating those where she found the most addictive of nectars. However, she had never knelt down under these circumstances before. She had never shown even a hint of submission to the pink-haired girl before; but in her mind she knew it was only fair—an act of atonement for her sins.
The sudden shift, the reversal of power, sent a strange, but undeniably pleasurable sensation coursing through her body.
"Whatever you ask of me, Hwa, I'll do it," she murmured in a hoarse voice. "But please, keep this between us. I don't want anyone else to know about this," she added, her face as red as a pomegranate, but maintaining her posture.
Seonghwa let out a sharp laugh. "You don't want everyone to know how much you need me? How pathetic you are, kneeling before me?"
The younger girl bit her lip hard, suppressing a shiver. Deep down inside her, a secret, almost shameful longing burned fiercely: the desire to be dominated by Seonghwa. Something inside her craved the imposition of her control, the complete surrender of her body. But the idea of verbalizing such a desire was so humiliating that she would rather die than confess such weakness.
"Th-that’s not it," she replied quickly, trying to sound indignant despite the fact that she was trembling like a leaf. "I just don't want people talking behind our backs... This intimacy, this... This is ours. It's personal, just between us." Hongjoong's hands rested on Seonghwa's thighs, her fists wrinkling the long green dress that covered her body. "But if that’s not what you want, I will accept it. I'll do whatever it takes to please you, even if it means crawling through the entire city, begging for your forgiveness."
The subsequent silence was flooded by Hongjoong's pleading voice, now barely a trembling whisper. The violent pounding of their hearts echoed loudly in Seonghwa's ears, a dull drumbeat marking the agonizing rhythm of the moment.
Long seconds stretched between the two women. Kim Hongjoong, holding her breath, watched every nuance in the deep blackness of those round eyes, trying to decipher the course that events would take. The internal storm within Park Seonghwa was written in her pupils—a fierce battle against her primal instincts, against the memories of what had been, with the possibilities of what could be.
The tension was torn apart the moment Seonghwa smiled. Gently tucking a pink strand of hair behind her ear, she tilted her head candidly, and commanded, "Take off your shirt."
Hongjoong hesitated, like a suicidal man standing at the edge of a cliff, realizing the irreversible consequences of jumping. "H-here?"
"I gave you an order."
A slight tremor lingered in Hongjoong's hands as she grasped the hem of her white shirt with her fingers; a fleeting doubt, a last moment of hesitation. But then, with newfound courage, she lifted the garment over her head, exposing her completely bare torso to the hungry gaze of the woman looming over her. Hongjoong felt a shiver run through her body as she exposed herself in that way, but her eyes remained locked on Seonghwa, seeking some sign of acceptance in her expression. Her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. She felt humiliated, vulnerable—but at the same time, desired .
Seonghwa's dark, dilated gaze rested on the delicate curve formed by Hongjoong's breasts under the dim light. A tremor ran through her hands, feeling the urgent need to touch her, to explore the softness of her skin—from the gentle outline of her collarbones to the warmth of her nipples beneath her fingertips. But she restrained herself, fighting against her instinct to love the woman kneeling before her.
"Happy now?" Hongjoong's voice, laced with sarcasm, forced Seonghwa to recompose her cold facade "Or is there something else I can offer?"
The defiance hung thick in the air, dense and palpable. Hongjoong's sly smirk wiped away the one that had been on Seonghwa's face in an instant.
"Take off all of your clothes."
Hongjoong, eager and with a triumphant glint in her eyes, did so without resistance. The metallic sound of the zipper descending echoed in the silence, followed by the soft pop of the button giving way. In one fluid motion, she shed her jeans and panties, letting them fall to the floor like an offering. Once naked, as if possessed by habit, she approached Seonghwa to take her, but an arched eyebrow and a hard look stopped her in her tracks.
"I haven't given you permission to stand up," Seonghwa reasoned. "Stay on your knees."
Humiliation tinged the younger woman's cheeks. It was at that moment that Hongjoong realized nothing tonight would go as she had planned. With trembling legs, she sank to her knees. Her gaze traveled to Seonghwa's face and she released a small sigh upon seeing the approving glint in the woman’s eyes.
"Hands behind your back," she ordered. "I want to see how much your body has changed since the last time I saw it."
For the first time that night, an unusual silence descended upon Hongjoong, a tacit truce that granted Seonghwa absolute control of the moment. Her hands clasped tightly behind her lower back, while she squeezed her eyes shut and nibbled on her lower lip nervously. Never before had she felt so naked under Seonghwa’s stare.
Seonghwa contemplated the new fragility of Hongjoong's body. Her bones, once hidden beneath a layer of healthy flesh, now were outlined beneath the taut white skin, a sight that left a bitter taste in Seonghwa's mouth. Concern immediately seized the older as she realized the magnitude of the drastic weight loss. She wondered, with a heavy heart, if Hongjoong was aware of the damage that neglect had wrought on her body.
However, it would be blasphemous to deny that Hongjoong was the embodiment of her most secret fantasies. Her skin, as fine as the finest porcelain, was dotted with countless moles—tiny stars that under the gentle touch of her index finger became the constellations that adorned the night sky. Her figure, harmoniously proportioned, combined the delicate allure of small, firm breasts with the fullness of her wide hips. Every detail, every shadow, every contour, wove a web of fascination that trapped Seonghwa mercilessly, making her a slave to an obsession that had long dragged her down the path of madness.
She ran her fingers delicately over the skin that stretched out before her, caressing every curve and inflection that Hongjoong's body offered. She could feel the way the woman's hairs stood on end under her touch, shivers that took over her figure like a ripple effect. Seonghwa's hands then traveled to her pearly pink nipples, hard between her fingertips.
“ You are so beautiful ," Seonghwa whispered, unaware of the vulnerability in her own voice as she murmured such words. Finishing her examination, her sharp nails dug gently into the sides of Hongjoong's neck. "Too many hickeys,” she observed, clicking her tongue. “Don't you feel any shame?"
A shiver ran down Hongjoong's spine at the implicit judgment in Seonghwa's voice. The marks that adorned her body were a constant reminder of a nature she could never quite control, not even under the influence of Seonghwa's love. They were tangible proof of the hypersexuality that plagued her, acts that had often ruined her life, as she couldn't handle the consequences. If those marks could form a word, like an epitaph etched into her flesh, it would resound loudly on her skin: the unfaithful woman .
"Seonghwa," Hongjoong pleaded in a broken voice. "You have no idea how much I regret it."
"Is that so?"
"My soul belongs to you."
Seonghwa's response was silence.
Hongjoong didn't expect anything different.
Then, breaking the thick blanket of quiet, a single tear fell to the floor. Hongjoong didn't even have a chance to discover who had shed it, as Seonghwa's next order sent a shiver down her spine that numbed every thought in her head.
"On fours, Hongjoong."
The woman obeyed without hesitation, dropping onto her hands and knees on the dimly lit hallway. The cold tiles pressed against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat building up inside her. She looked over her shoulder at Seonghwa, her eyes wide and pleading.
"Yes, mistress ," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "How can I serve you in this position?"
Hongjoong instantly noticed the change in Seonghwa, activated as if by magic, with the uttered name. She smiled secretly, her hips tilting upwards, offering herself to her past lover's gaze. The vulnerability of being in such an exposed and submissive position ran through her like an electric shock, a delicious shiver of powerlessness that only intensified her excitement.
"Keep your hands behind your back, slut ," the woman reminded her cruelly.
The younger woman nodded, her hands firmly placed on the lower part of her back, as she had been instructed; which resulted in half her face being planted on the cold floor. This position left her completely open and accessible to Seonghwa, her most intimate areas exposed to her inspection and use.
"Yes, mistress," she repeated in a whisper. "I'm ready for you to claim me as you wish."
As she waited, she couldn't help but imagine the things Seonghwa might do to her in this state of vulnerability. The idea of being taken from behind, of feeling her dominant presence pressing against her, sent a new wave of desire coursing through her veins. Her core involuntarily contracted, craving the contact she knew was coming. At the end of the day, Hongjoong knew that at this precise moment she was reduced to nothing more than a willing slave to Seonghwa's desires, and realizing that only intensified the longing growing within her.
"How many girls have you been with, Hongjoong?" Before the woman could answer, Seonghwa anticipated, "Be honest with the number."
A pang of guilt pierced her heart as she remembered the numerous encounters she'd had with other women during their turbulent relationship. But she refused to lie, not now, not when Seonghwa demanded the brutal honesty she deserved.
"Two," she admitted, her voice barely audible as shame colored her features. "There were two, besides the ones who left the marks that are on my neck right now." The hickeys that adorned her skin were a visual testament to her infidelity. Each name, each face, spun in her mind, a bitter reminder of the pain she had caused Seonghwa. "I'm sorry, Hwa. I never meant to hurt you so deeply."
Seonghwa, cloaked in coldness, pressed, "How many whores in total?"
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the weight of her confession settled heavily upon her. With a deep, trembling breath, she forced herself to confront the full extent of her betrayal.
"Five," she whispered. She lowered her head in shame, unable to meet Seonghwa's gaze as the guilt of her actions washed over her once more. The painful emptiness in her chest was a constant reminder of the love she had lost, the bond shattered by her own selfish needs. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness, Hwa... but please, don't hate me entirely."
"Ten spankings," Seonghwa muttered.
Hongjoong shuddered at the older woman's words, a gasp escaping her lips as she understood the implication. Ten lashes, two for each woman she had been with, a physical punishment that matched the emotional torment she had inflicted.
"Yes, mistress," she acknowledged softly, preparing herself for the consequences of her actions. "I deserve every hit. Punish me as you see fit."
She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the imminent pain. Hongjoong accepted her faith, seeing it as a necessary step to atone for her mistakes, to regain at least a shred of Seonghwa's trust and affection. She wanted to show her that her mindset had changed. That time had transformed her into what she was today: completely and irrevocably Seonghwa's property.
The pink-haired woman took a seat on the stairs. The cruelty in her features did not diminish the softness in her voice as she commanded, "Ass on my lap. Head down."
Slowly, Hongjoong crawled forward on her hands and knees, her heart pounding in anticipation of the discipline to come. Upon reaching Seonghwa's lap, she positioned herself carefully, resting her hips against the pink-haired woman's thighs while keeping her head bowed in submission.
"Yes, mistress," she whispered, her voice muffled by the cascading hair that hid her face. "I'm ready for you to give me my lesson."
She could feel the heat radiating from Seonghwa's body, the firmness of her muscles as she gripped her hips. A sensation ran down her spine, a mixture of fear and excitement that flooded every sense. In silence, she awaited the first blow, her mind focused solely on serving Seonghwa, on enduring any punishment she deemed fit for her transgressions.
At the first contact, she tensed, expecting the sharp sting of a spanking. Instead, Seonghwa's hand slid across her bottom in a tender caress, surprising her from head to toe. Her breath hitched as the woman explored the curve of her ass, her fingers tracing delicate patterns that contrasted with the harsh actions that followed.
A single, resonant slap echoed through the place as Seonghwa's palm connected with her ass. The sudden impact made her cry out, her body jolting in response. Pain blossomed where her skin met the blow, a searing burn that quickly transformed into a throbbing ache.
" Oh, Hwa! " Hongjoong exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and a perverse pleasure. She wriggled slightly in Seonghwa's lap, her lower muscles tensing as the sting radiated outward.
"Is my little slut moaning over a spanking? Should I be harsher…?"
A moan escaped her lips at Seonghwa's teasing words, her face reddening with shame and excitement. She knew she shouldn't desire this kind of punishment, but the intense sensations coursing through her were undeniable. "P-please, mistress," she stammered with need. "Don't hold back. It's what I deserve. I can take it..."
Hongjoong rocked her hips back, seeking more contact, more friction against Seonghwa's expectant hand. The ache between her legs had become insistent, a throbbing hunger that only the sting of her spankings seemed capable of satiating.
The second and third blows landed with ruthless force, each slap reverberating through the air like a gunshot. The younger woman cried out with each impact, her body convulsing as pain exploded through her tender flesh.
" Fuck, fuck, fuck ," Hongjoong chanted.
Pain and pleasure danced on her face in a symphony of contrasts. The precious tears streaming down her face adorned her cheeks like beautiful pearls. Her furrowed brows, parted lips, and the various fluids sliding down her cheeks were worthy of being captured on a canvas. Such an image would become a masterpiece, a famous painting titled " The Ecstasy in Agony " that would attract crowds, each viewer seeking in its details the key to such profound emotion.
By the third spanking, Hongjoong's backside was on fire, her skin red and throbbing. Yet, even through the haze of pain, she could feel the moisture accumulating between her thighs, a shameful testament to the twisted pleasure that Seonghwa's dominance induced in her.
"P-please, Hwa," she begged, her voice hoarse and broken. "No more. Mercy, please have mercy..."
"You should have thought of mercy when you were cheating on me, you filthy slut."
Seonghwa's cruel words cut deeper than any spank, piercing her soul with the weight of her betrayal. As the next five blows rained down, she felt each one as a condemnation, a reminder of the harm she had caused.
"Y-yes, mistress, I deserve it," she articulated between sobs, her voice hoarse and defeated. "I was a stupid, selfish slut, thinking only of my own desires.”
With each spanking, the lessons of her mistakes were branded into her flesh, becoming a painful and tangible part of her. By the time Seonghwa landed the fifth blow, Hongjoong was a trembling wreck, her backside a burning inferno and her spirit crushed under the weight of her guilt.
"I'm sorry, Hwa. I'm so sorry," she pleaded through sobs.
"Two more, Joong, two more and this will be over," Seonghwa's voice was calm, belying the pain that clung to her bones.
Hongjoong's entire body trembled at the woman's ominous warning, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation of the final assault. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the sweat that beaded on her skin as she prepared herself for the last two blows.
" Please, mistress, " she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "Be gentle with me. I swear I've learned my lesson..."
But even as the plea left her lips, she knew it was futile. Seonghwa's anger was a force of its own, fueled by the deepest wounds of her betrayal. All she could do was submit, offering her body as penance for her sins. And so, she took a shaky breath, preparing for the inevitable.
The final two spanks struck with a ferocity that stole her breath, each blow landing with brutal precision. The pain was unbearable, a blinding white heat that consumed her world. She screamed as the lashes tore into her flesh, drawing two crimson lines that began to ooze down her bruised skin. She could feel the warmth of her own blood dripping down her thighs, a horrifying testament to the severity of Seonghwa's punishment.
"No more, please... Hwa, I can't take it anymore!" Hongjoong pleaded, her voice broken with desperation and anguish. "It hurts too much, I'm bleeding..."
However, the younger woman knew her empty pleas were falling on deaf ears. Seonghwa's revenge was merely a purging of the poison Hongjoong had injected into her heart.
She felt Seonghwa's fingertips caress her bottom, carefully collecting the drops of blood that had been spilled.
"Open your mouth, Joong," she ordered sweetly.
Horrified, she watched as Seonghwa's finger emerged covered in the vivid, red evidence of her punishment. The sight sent a wave of absolute degradation washing over her entire body.
"W-what are you doing, Hwa?" Hongjoong stammered, her gaze fixed on the bloody finger floating before her face. "This is…this is disgusting."
Despite her aversion, a primal instinct compelled her to obey. With a trembling body, she parted her lips, exposing the warm cavity of her mouth. Seonghwa's finger slipped inside, the metallic taste of her own blood flooding Hongjoong's senses. Her features contorted in immediate distaste. Her stomach churned and she was moments away from throwing up her last meal had the older woman not mercifully removed her finger. Yet, the metallic taste lingered on her tongue as a stark reminder of what had happened.
What she had thought was an act of mercy from the love of her life turned out to be a grotesque and macabre joke. For the moment Seonghwa gently wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks, she knew something more sinister was brewing in the woman's mind.
"Open up, baby."
Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks at Seonghwa's command, her eyes overflowing with a mix of pain, humiliation, and a twisted sort of love. As if in a trance, she opened her mouth wider, allowing the older woman to collect the salty drops with her fingertip and deposit them into the younger woman's mouth.
Hongjoong couldn't help but sob at the degradation of the situation. In her desperation, she couldn't understand how Seonghwa, her sweet and loving Seonghwa, had reduced her to this . Never in her life had she imagined that such a kind woman would make her cry like this, much less had she imagined that she would use her pleading tears to feed the disgust she felt for herself. Yet, at the back of her mind, she supposed it was fitting. After all, it was what she truly deserved.
When Seonghwa deemed it appropriate, she removed her finger from the younger woman's mouth. Seonghwa's heart constricted sharply at the sight of the suffering etched on every feature of the woman she loved. A sharp pain pierced her heart, and she felt the need to return at least a fragment of the little dignity she deserved. She took the strands of black hair currently clinging to her cheeks and gently brushed them back. Her thumbs caressed the woman's cheeks, wiping away the trail of incessant tears that streamed from her almond-shaped eyes. Finally, in a tender gesture, she kissed the tip of Hongjoong's nose, as if she could erase all her suffering with that touch.
Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa through her tear-filled lashes, and in that moment, a fragile hope flickered in her chest. "Will this be enough, Hwa? Will punishing me like this finally heal the wounds I've caused you?"
However, the laugh that escaped Seonghwa's lips could only be described as cruel. "Shut you fucking mouth, slut."
At Seonghwa's harsh rebuke, Hongjoong fell silent, her lips sealed as if sewn shut. A shiver ran down her spine at the cold tone in her voice, a powerful reminder of the depths of her anger and the consequences of crossing her.
She lowered her head in submission; her long, dark hair falling over her face like a veil of shame. In the oppressive silence that followed, she could feel Seonghwa's gaze piercing her, scrutinizing every inch of her bruised and battered body. Time lost all meaning as they remained motionless in that tense confrontation, the only sound being the distant echo of their ragged breathing.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Seonghwa spoke again, her voice low and measured. "Get up, Hongjoong. We're done here."
When Seonghwa stood, Hongjoong scrambled to follow, but her movements were stiff and uncoordinated due to the lingering effects of her brutal punishment. Her battered bottom throbbed with every step, her tender flesh protesting at the slightest pressure.
"N-no, wait, Seonghwa," she pleaded, reaching out to grab the woman's arm in a desperate attempt to stop her. "Please, don't leave me like this. I still have so much to make up for, so much to prove my devotion."
Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, her heart aching at the thought of being discarded, treated like mere trash after the intimate act they had shared. She continued in a wounded voice, "Let me continue to serve you, in any way you desire. I'll do anything, I’ll be anything you need me to be."
Seonghwa's gaze revealed the internal struggle raging within her. Finally, she made her decision, commanding, "On your knees. Mouth open, tongue out."
Without hesitation, Hongjoong dropped to her knees, her movements fluid and compliant. She parted her lips, extending her tongue, ready to receive whatever the woman deemed fit to bestow upon her.
In this position of utter submission, she felt a strange sense of peace wash over her. This was truly her place: at Seonghwa's mercy, eager to please and appease her in any way possible. As long as she could maintain this delicate balance between adoration and contrition, perhaps there would be hope for forgiveness, for redemption. She held the pose, her eyes fixed adoringly on the woman she loved, her entire essence focused on the task of pleasing her.
The sudden splash of saliva against her tongue was like a sharp slap, the bitter taste of disdain burning her senses. She flinched slightly at the unexpected assault but quickly recovered her composure, daring not to show any sign of displeasure. Instead, she looked up at Seonghwa with a mix of surprise and reverence, her eyes wide and glassy.
The cruel smile that curved the pink-haired woman's lips only served to intensify the aura of dominance surrounding her, and she felt a surge of excitement mingled with fear coursing through her veins.
"Y-yes, mistress," she stammered, her voice muffled. "Your disdain is my punishment, my lesson. I will endure it with pride, knowing that I deserve nothing less for my transgressions against you."
Seonghwa shook her head gently. "You don't even deserve what I'm giving you, Hongjoong. Thank God for my great mercy; I've decided to give you another chance."
The sharp nails digging into her cheeks were the sensation Hongjoong needed to ground her hopeful heart, as she sobbed, " Thank you, Seonghwa, thank you, thank you. "
"Not today," Seonghwa declared. "Three months of abstinence, Hongjoong. That's my only requirement, do you hear me?"
A wave of relief washed over Hongjoong at Seonghwa's words, followed quickly by a surge of gratitude and renewed devotion. The touch on her cheeks was tender, almost maternal, and she leaned into it submissively, savoring the gentle contact.
"Yes, Hwa, I understand," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I will be pure for you. I promise." She looked up at Seonghwa with shining eyes, her heart pounding with love and loyalty. "Thank you for this second chance, for seeing beyond my mistakes. I promise to prove that I am worthy of your love and trust."
Seonghwa turned her back to the younger woman. "And Hongjoong. I will be watching you. Break this promise and I'm done with you."
The weight of Seonghwa's warning settled heavily upon her, a solemn oath etched deep within her soul. She nodded solemnly, her expression grave and determined.
"I understand, Seonghwa," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. A fierce determination burned within her, fueled by the knowledge that Seonghwa's trust was a precious commodity, one she would guard with her life. She would endure the next three weeks of solitude and self-denial, counting down the days until she could reunite with her beloved. "You can count on my obedience."
"I hope so," Seonghwa said softly. "I'll see you in three months, Joong."
With one last glance, Seonghwa left, leaving Hongjoong by herself. As the door closed behind her, Hongjoong felt a profound sense of emptiness.
Slowly, she stood up, grimacing as the stiffness in her punished body protested the movement. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, preparing for the arduous journey ahead.
“Three months,” she whispered to herself, the number echoing in her mind like a mantra.
Ninety days of solitude, of self-control, of unwavering dedication to the one who had captivated her heart.