Chapter 68
* * *
“One, two, three, thirty! One, two, three, thirty-one!”
His thoroughly irritated thighs bulged, and the clearly defined outlines of his abs twitched, becoming even more pronounced.
One, two, three, thirty-five— thump thump— one, two, three, thirty-six— thump thump—
Thirty-seven— thump thump—
One sock per leg, and on top, a tattered shirt that might as well not be worn. In essence, the man was practically naked.
“One, two, three, forty!”
He shouted with full force, sharply turning his body to the left. A heavy, powerful voice, a textbook posture without a single error. Yet, unlike this razor-sharp demeanor, his soul was on the verge of turning to ashes and vanishing.
His face was burning almost as red as his pupils, and his entire body was flushed crimson.
Forty-six! Thump thump, as he leaped upward, his body spun to the left. Thump thump, in his bouncing vision, Jeina came into view. She was leaning obliquely against the stone balcony railing, observing him. Hair as dark as pitch, a face like snow, a bewitching figure. Did starlight only fall on this woman? She alone shone infuriatingly.
“One, two, three, forty-five!”
Her feet tapped to the rhythm of his cadence.
“One, t-wo.”
Shame made his head grow hotter and his whole body churn.
Could he have ever imagined that the ‘punishment’ she spoke of would be like this? He would have preferred the things she used to do under the guise of punishment. In fact, deep down, he might have expected that.
‘Wouldn’t it be better if she just spanked my backside a few times like she used to?’
He thought for a moment, then startled. Losing the rhythm of the movement, he briefly faltered, then quickly shouted, “Three, forty-six—” and shot her a glance.
‘But still, come on. Me, a Sword Master, doing squats…?’
He couldn’t believe his own state, nearly naked, squatting and hopping. Even if someone caught sight of him like this, who would believe it? That the Empire’s greatest knight, the one who even earned the title of war hero, was half-naked in the dead of night, being put through humiliating drills by a woman.
He couldn’t even believe himself, doing this diligently just because she told him to.
Nobles were emerging onto the corridors and central garden below to watch the fireworks, the highlight of the banquet and festival. Even nobles who had reserved seats early through their attendants were among them; more and more people were gradually gathering, and voices mixed with anticipation buzzed and hummed. The voice of the drunken Crown Prince rang out particularly loudly.
“What! All of this is for someone, yet the guest of honor is nowhere to be seen! See, I told you he’s a bore. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
“One, two, three, forty, hick seven!”
His own voice, which followed, was so booming. Ronius flushed the corners of his eyes red with shame. Resentment welled up in his throat, stinging all the way to his nose.
Stripped practically bare, squatting down with hands on his hips, even shouting cadence while hopping on the balls of his feet with thump-thump or hop-hop sounds.
For him, this was punishment in the truest sense. It wasn’t punishment causing physical issues like ‘exhaustion.’ Rather, as with most training that required significant stamina, which for him—having surpassed many human physical limits—felt like a kind of stroll, barely registering.
This was punishment in a different sense.
“Forty-hick-eight!”
This shame was not something a Sword Master could do anything about. Moreover, there was an even bigger problem: the fact that he was shuddering, feeling her gaze upon him even while enduring this torment. The male part of him was reacting very properly. The completely bared thing stiffly raised its head, plunging him into deeper trouble. Down below twitched, and his whole body itched.
Forty-nine— another one, two, three. As he cried out “Fifty—!”, she spoke.
“One more time.”
At the firm instruction tossed in an indifferent tone, he eventually started again…
“One, two, three, one!”
Thump thump— While shooting her a resentful glance, he continued his squat-hopping without stopping. Counting all over again from 1 to 50 while doing this made him feel utterly wretched and mortified.
‘Please, just stop this…’
Muttering unheard pleas internally, he hopped and hopped again. If it weren’t for this pathetic spectacle, he felt he could willingly do anything.
But a moment later.
“Yeh, hick!”
He immediately regretted his reckless thought.
Slap, slap, slap— a crisp sound buzzed in his ears.
“Eleven!”
Jeina had descended from the railing and was circling him as before. Slap, slap, slaaap—
“Twelve!”
There was one difference: she was no longer just caressing his body, and he couldn’t stand still. She struck various parts of his body with that damn fan, slap-slap, and he spread his legs and hopped, raising his voice in time with the regular beat of her fan swings.
The knight’s entire body was woven with muscle. Each time he spread his arms and legs to leap, only one part of his body shook. Despite being as hard and straight as any other part, that alone shaking made it stand out glaringly.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.