2:05am
Jessica is back on stage. She moves in quickly, running her hands over duckie’s body, checking him over. She talks quietly to Madam, giving her report.
Madam nods, then gives a short order to the other subs. They move fast, unbuckling the restraints, undoing the spreader bar, and freeing duckie from the standing position.
For the first time in what feels like forever, he isn’t stretched out. He shifts slightly, rolling his shoulders, testing his limbs, but there’s no rest.
They are already moving him again.

2:01am
Final stretch.
Madam is taking her time with these last blows, making each one count.
duckie’s entire ass is burning red, every welt layering over the others.
She landed the seventy-fifth strike, and he called it out.
His voice is hoarse, but still clear—"75 For Levi, thank you, Madam!"
Seventy-five done.
And he took every last one.

1:59am
Another fast-count session. Twenty more.
The cane lands in rapid succession. duckie is barely getting the numbers out before the next strike comes.
His voice is strained now, but he keeps pace. Not one misstep.
"Six! Seven! Eight!"
His body is shaking, but he doesn’t break form.
"Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!"
She keeps the rhythm—quick, brutal, unrelenting.
"Twenty—for Levi, thank you, Madam!"

1:57am
She pauses.
duckie’s chest is rising and falling fast, and when she tilts his face up, I see it—tears.
She wipes them away, slow, careful. No words. Just the silent moment between them.
Then, she steps back.
And keeps going.

1:53am
Now, it changed.
Madam slowed down, completely shifting the pace.
The next lashes are all coming one at a time—deliberate, measured, full force.
She is zeroing in on one spot, layering every strike across the same section of his ass.
First stroke—solid, unyielding. duckie inhales sharply.
Then another. And another.
There is no fast counting now. He has to feel every single hit.
He is holding himself together, but I see it—his fingers are twitching in the restraints. His breathing is uneven now, each impact dragging a deeper reaction.

1:50am
Madam steps toward duckie with the cane still in her hand. This next round belongs to me.
Seventy-five strokes.
She doesn’t waste time. The first twenty are coming fast—quick-count style.
The first crack lands, sharp and immediate.
duckie barely has time to get the words out—"One!"—before the next strike comes down.
Another. Another. She’s relentless, moving with precise rhythm. Each impact lands solidly on his ass, heat rising fast across his skin.
"Two! Three! Four!"
His voice stays steady, but his body is tensing against the restraints.
She keeps going—ten in. Then fifteen.
Each one snaps across the same spot.
"Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen!"
The final two come down just as quick.
"Nineteen! Twenty—for Levi, thank you, Madam!"
He barks it out, just like that. No hesitation. No breaking.

1:46am
Madam steps back and announces the end of the volunteer punishments.
That’s it for this round.
Quick tally—duckie has taken 117 blows so far. Out of 598 total.
We’re not even a quarter of the way through.
And now, it’s time for the staff subs.
She’s starting with mine.

1:39am
Madam is rotating duckie now, turning him to face the audience. She announces that the next round of punishment is for exibishboy, who just loves to show off.
She’s using the cane this time. The first strike lands hard across duckie’s ass—and now we get a full view of his face, contorted in reaction. Madam isn’t holding back; those strikes are serious, each one making him flinch visibly. The intensity of those blows must really be making him feel it.
"Seven for exibishboy, thank you, Madam!" duckie manages to bark out after the final one. His face scrunches up with each impact, and it's clear—he’s feeling every single blow.
Madam moves on quickly, though, turning her attention to the next volunteer.
Seven for anonsub. She tells him to count fast—and then she starts.
Strike after strike, one, two, three... no break between them. The cane whips across duckie’s backside, and he keeps counting, perfectly in sync.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven for anonsub. Thank you, Madam!" duckie’s voice doesn’t falter—he’s taking it all.

1:35am
"Thirty-five for piggie, thank you, Madam."
duckie’s voice is strong again.
Madam isn’t going easy—each strike is landing hard, now targeting his upper back.
"Forty-two for piggie, thank you, Madam!"
And that’s it. piggie’s punishment is finished.
duckie is breathing hard, skin flushed, but he didn’t break.
Madam steps back, admiring her work.
She’s not done with him yet.

1:31am
Thirty-four. And then it happens—his voice breaks.
A sharp inhale. A small sob as he tries to steady his breath.
He gets the words out—"Thank you, Madam"—but it’s shaky.
Madam pauses.
Jessica, her medical consultant, is already moving. She’s on stage, crouching beside duckie, checking him over.
duckie is shaking his head no, no, no. He doesn’t want to stop.
Jessica is offering him water. He takes it, drinks, but his eyes are locked on Madam. She’s watching the exchange, waiting.
Jessica speaks to Madam—duckie is good to continue.
Madam smiles.
She takes the rod back.
And she keeps going.

1:26am
The wooden rod is back. This time, it’s for piggie.
Madam explains what’s happening—piggie couldn’t take his full punishment from his owner. He safeworded out.
So now, duckie is taking what’s left.
And Madam has one goal—see if duckie taps out too.
The first woosh of the rod is loud.
Then—smack.
duckie calls it out.
"One for piggie, thank you, Madam."
Another. And another.
His voice is tight now, the strain creeping in, but he keeps counting.
Ten in. His shoulders are tense.
Twenty. His breathing is heavier, but he’s still holding on.
Thirty.

1:16am
Madam is taking over now. She’s using a long, thin leather paddle. Looks like there might be rivets in it.
She’s dealing with the newer volunteers, handling them quickly.
First up is charlie—seven smacks.
duckie counts them out one after another, thanking Madam.
Now it’s submale—twenty.
Same rhythm, same precision. duckie’s voice never wavers.
hertoy is up—fourteen smacks.
Madam lands them perfectly, no wasted movement. duckie doesn’t flinch.
She isn’t breaking a sweat. He isn’t breaking his focus.
Absolute professionals.

1:11am
First strike lands.

duckie doesn’t hesitate—he calls it out.
"One for mrsub, thank you, Mistress."

Another strike. Then another. Each one lands cleanly, a steady cadence of smacks and responses.

Ten in.
duckie’s voice is still steady.

Mistress Heather isn’t holding back. She’s swinging full force, and each hit echoes through the room.

Fifteen. duckie’s breathing is heavier now.

Eighteen.
He’s still locked in place, muscles tight, but he’s feeling this.

Twenty. That’s it. mrsub’s punishment is done.

Madam takes the rod back. No break—she’s keeping this moving.

1:05am
Madam is bringing Mistress Heather up onto the stage. She’s the only guest here from Femdomu Magazine, and she’s about to deliver duckie’s opening blows.
She’s not starting with him just yet—Madam is explaining how this round is about the volunteer subs who have punishments to transfer. First up is mrsub, and he’s about to make duckie pay for his mistake.
Madam is pissed at mrsub—his big feature piece for the magazine is months late, and she’s done being patient.
Mistress Heather is handed a wooden rod—long, thin, maybe bamboo. She’s gripping it like she knows exactly how to use it.
And here we go.

12:58am
She’s done with the warmup. The floggers are gone, and duckie is standing there, pink all over, breathing deep, but still locked in place. He looks like he loved every second of it.
The two assisting subs are stepping back onto the stage, but now they’re different. Their robes are gone—they’re just in pink shorts now.
They’re bringing out items. Madam is selecting something, sending the rest away. She’s placing something on him now.
Rings. Around his cock and balls.
She’s making sure he stays hard for whatever’s next.
Ouch.

12:47am
She’s going for the front now. Same floggers, same intensity.

The strikes are hitting his chest, stomach, thighs—and, yes, directly on his cock.

Still hard.

Somewhere in the world, there’s a tall, broad-shouldered man wondering why he got stuck with a tiny dick, because duckie clearly got his by accident.

The universe is cruel.

12:38am
Now she’s turning him around. The subs are rotating him on the restraints, and duckie moves with complete control—no resistance, no struggle.
And now we have a full view.
He’s still hard.
It never stops being absurd. The size, the proportion—it just doesn’t belong on someone his stature. It’s like some cosmic mix-up.

12:33am
The paddle is gone. Madam is switching it up—now she’s holding two floggers, one in each hand.
She gets right to it, swinging them in tandem, striking across his entire back. She’s working high to low, covering his shoulders, back, ass, thighs—no part left untouched.
She just explained the reason—102 lashes. That’s how many days her shipment is delayed because duckie sent it the wrong way.
She’s not holding back. The force behind her swings is obvious, her arms flexing with every hit. Even from here, I can see how strong she is.
He has to be feeling this everywhere.

12:29am
Madam announces that the first 25 strikes will be a warm-up, then she swings.
The first smack cracks through the room, leather snapping against skin. Then another. And another. She keeps a steady rhythm, each strike landing squarely on his ass.
duckie isn’t reacting. No flinching, no twitching. Just standing there, taking it.

12:22am
duckie is moving to the center of the stage, flanked by the two subs. They’re right on him, working efficiently—one secures thick leather cuffs around his wrists, locking them to the horizontal bar hanging above. Another is at his feet, snapping a spreader bar into place between his ankles, forcing his legs apart.
They step back. He’s fully restrained now—arms stretched up, legs spread wide, body completely exposed.
His back is to us, muscles tense but his posture steady.
Madam steps forward, a leather paddle in her hand.
Here we go.