Tap. Adjust. Fail. Repeat.
She’s hiccupping sobs by the time Jino releases her. He tells her to lie back on the mat, and she whimpers. Muttering something about no more…
But, oh, Miss Take, we’re just getting started. You have hours and hours of training ahead of you before you’ll be allowed to truly rest.
This respite, just a ploy.
To flatten your defenses.
To trick you into thinking relief is coming.
Only to force you into another position.
"Position Two,” Jino says, his voice echoing through the dungeon. “Kneel.”
Emmaleen isn’t even trying to hide her tears now.
“Open." His voice carries the same measured cadence as before. "This posture represents vulnerability through obedience."
I roll my eyes. Always with the fucking poetry.
"Keeping your back straight, widen your knees to shoulder width. Hands remain on thighs, eyes downcast."
Emmaleen shifts, tears flowing, legs shaking.
"I said open," Jino repeats, tapping the inside of her knee with the crop.
She hesitates, her discomfort palpable even through the surveillance feed. The conflict plays across her face like a silent film—vulnerability warring with dignity. She opens her knees perhaps two inches.
"Wider," Jino says. His tone is calm, but there's steel beneath it now. "Shoulder width."
Another inch. Maybe.
"That's not shoulder width." Jino places both hands on the inside of her knees and presses outward, exposing her pussy. "Here. This is shoulder width."
She exhales sharply, her jaw tightening as her body assumes the new position. The resistance in her eyes is delicious. There's something so satisfying about watching a woman with her intelligence, her education, reduced to such basic commands.
Open your knees.
Straighten your back.
Eyes down.
Each one represents another piece of her former self being systematically dismantled.
Jino circles her like a shark, examining her form from every angle. "Hold this position. Keep your breathing steady."
Minutes pass. Three. Ten. Twenty. She’s been gasping for breath for almost all of those minutes, despite Jino’s constant coaching. She looked over to the key hanging on the wall sixteen times.
“Go on, Miss Take,” I murmur, watching. “Get up. Take the key. Walk out and all of this torture will end.”
"Still," Jino commands. "Find the stillness."
I check my watch. Seventeen minutes in Position Two. On screen, Emmaleen blinks rapidly. She's holding on by a thread.
“Excellent, Emmaleen,” Jino soothes. “Lie back on the mat. You’ll have a two-minute break before we move on to Position Three."
Her whole body is shaking. She sobs. Eyes closed. But the tears pour out of her like penance.