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.