“…It seems no marks remain from last time.”

　　Ezio spoke in a voice that sounded strangely parched.

　　Hwani forced a smile to shake off her awkwardness.

　　“I applied some ointment. It worked quite well.”

　　“I am glad it left no mark. After all, our contract states that we work within the limits of causing no injury. Well then…”

　　Ezio finally raised the new tool he had prepared.

　　“Now, let us put this specialized tool to use.”

　　A long switch was already in his hand.

　　Hwani glanced at the tool out of the corner of her eye, and swallowed hard. Gentle by nature, she had never even been struck on the palm in primary school. Yet now, out of nowhere, she was about to be struck on the bottom with a thing like that…

　　Just as she tried to swallow hard at the thought, the switch suddenly struck her bottom.

　　“Ah!”

　　Her body went rigid with a sudden gasp. Unlike the sting of an open palm, the pain dug sharply into a narrow, slender area.

　　But the sensation of the blow faded much faster. Though the sound was loud when the blow landed, the aftershock passed in an instant. Hwani realized that her scream had also been thin and brief.

　　She raised her eyes to gauge Ezio’s reaction. As expected, Ezio, a composer with a sensitive ear for pitch, furrowed his brow. He tilted his head as though unconvinced and drew in a breath.

　　“…It is too high-pitched. It does not seem to be the feeling I had in mind…”

　　He muttered to himself.

　　What music was he trying to find in the sound she had just made? As Hwani froze in horror, Ezio made up his mind and adjusted his grip on the switch.

　　“Let us try once more. Relax your body.”

　　Thwack!

　　“Ah…!”

　　This time, the switch lingered longer on her flesh. A stinging sensation surged through her, and Hwani writhed weakly. As she clenched and unclenched her fingers to endure the pain, the switch fell mercilessly onto her bottom once more.

　　“Ah, ah!”

　　“Tense your abdomen and shout a bit louder. Be more decisive!”

　　“B-But, but… Ah, ugh, ah!”

　　Hwani opened her mouth wide and screamed as best she could, but she knew it was fake. Her scream sounded forced. And understandably so, for the pain the switch delivered was sharp yet brief, leaving her unable to express genuine agony. All the more so because the switch was made of flexible wood, producing a loud noise but causing little pain.

　　Wouldn’t it have been easier if Ezio had told her to grit her teeth and endure it instead?

　　After enduring the strokes for a while, Hwani finally grew exhausted. Her screams, which she had tried to tailor to Ezio’s demands, gradually died down to a faint whisper.

　　“I am sorry. This does not seem to be it…”

　　Half-forgetting the shame of sticking her bottom out over a man’s lap, she feared only that she could not satisfy his demands.

　　Had she been influenced by that eccentric composer as well? Hwani flushed and tentatively raised her eyes.

　　“Should we continue?”

　　“…No. That will be enough for this one.”

　　Ezio excused himself for a moment and stood up from the sofa. He swished the switch through the air a few times before laying it down on the desk.

　　“The sound is too high-pitched and brief, and your scream was a half step sharp as well. It had its own novel charm, but it feels too light to use for the main motif.”

　　Hwani rubbed her chest as she listened, thinking he was truly an eccentric. To a genius of his caliber, did all sounds on Earth translate into music? Even the sound of a switch hitting a woman’s bottom, and the moans that answered it.

　　Ezio picked up another item from the desk. This time, it was a broad paddle.

　　“This time, let us test this tool. How is your physical condition?”

　　He approached the sofa and sat down again. Since ‘physical condition’ meant her bottom, Hwani lowered her eyes.

　　“I think I am still fine.”

　　“That is fortunate. Professional tools certainly seem to leave few marks. Even after being struck like that earlier, your…”

　　Ezio trailed off as he had Hwani lie face down. She pressed her body against the man’s lap once more, feeling her swollen breasts being crushed against his legs.

　　Whatever signal that sent to Ezio, his Adam’s apple bobbed for a moment as he swallowed.

　　“We will start gently at first. One blow to begin with.”

　　Thump!

　　“Ugh…!”

　　Her fingers curled, digging into the flesh of her palms. A low groan welled up from her throat.

　　It was a completely different reaction from when she was struck with the switch. Hwani blinked in surprise. That her voice changed just because the tool changed—wasn’t she just like an instrument played with a different implement?

　　Smack! Thump!

　　“Ah, ugh…!”

　　The feeling of the paddle against her skin was different from the switch, too. It felt like a broad oar heavy-handedly striking her entire bottom. The flesh of her buttocks vibrated like a struck gong, as if playing the low notes of a string instrument at a slow tempo.

　　Along with that, Hwani realized her own groans had become deeper. Was this also because it was made of soft wood and hurt less than it appeared? If the point was the act of striking and being struck, such a tool would certainly be useful.

　　But what the two of them sought was sound. The thought crossed Hwani’s mind that this, too, was hardly the right tool to draw out a genuine scream.

　　Eventually, Ezio set down the paddle as well. A long sigh escaped him, as if he were thoroughly dissatisfied.

　　“This will not do either.”

　　It was a simple conclusion, and Hwani inwardly agreed with him.

　　“I thought a professional tool would be different. It doesn’t seem to suit our purpose. Things like this are for perverts who enjoy beatings for the sake of beatings.”

　　This, too, echoed Hwani’s thoughts. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that striking someone for music was just as perverted. At any rate, she would chalk this up to art as well.

　　Ezio finally set the paddle down beside the sofa.

　　He cautiously reached toward Hwani’s bottom once more. He began to gently stroke the plump flesh in circular motions.

　　“Let us return to the beginning. Are you ready?”

　　Ezio’s hand brushed every fine hair on her bottom. Reminded anew that she was exposing her bare flesh to the man she admired, Hwani bit her lower lip. She awkwardly lowered her face, which had been raised in tension, and nodded.

　　“Go ahead.”

　　“Then I shall not hold back.”

　　Whack!

　　“Ah!”

　　It had begun again. The sharp pain delivered by the man’s palm. Along with it, the sensation of skin clinging softly, and even his body heat with its steady warmth.

　　A multitude of sensations that no wooden tool could produce spread across Hwani’s bottom. Just as the clinging sensation drained away like an ebbing tide, the man raised his hand again.

　　“We shall continue. Allegro!”

　　Thwack!

　　“Ah, ah, ugh…!”

　　The man’s hand repeatedly slapped against her bottom and pulled away. A rush of pain and sensation, far more vivid than anything she had ever felt, unsettled her deep inside.

　　She tried to steady her tension-stiffened body as best she could. The moment she propped herself up on her elbows against the sofa to shift her position, her bottom was struck mercilessly once more.

　　“Ah, ugh!”

　　Her whole body shook. Her breasts hanging down surged back and forth like heavy waves. Hwani finally collapsed back onto Ezio’s lap. Her breasts, crushed under her own weight, hurt, but that was nothing compared to the sensation digging into her bottom. The man’s hand relentlessly indulged in her buttocks.

　　Slap, thwack! Smack!

　　“Ah, ah, ah…!”

　　It is strange. Something is strange. Was it because her struck bottom was burning like fire? Every time the man’s hand pressed against her round mounds, her stomach tickled inside. Beyond the natural desire for him to stop hurting her, a strange impulse wriggled.

　　Not like this… Be gentle. Touch and caress my bottom just like this…

　　Wait. Wait. What am I thinking right now?

　　Why is such an impulse slowly seeping out from deep inside me?

　　That faint question was only just stirring in Hwani’s subconscious. Before she could even organize her thoughts properly, she felt her bottom burning hot. Hwani started, not even realizing whether it was from pain or another kind of heat.

　　Th-This is strange, so strange…!

　　Flustered, she concluded that it was because of the pain. Cutting off the screams she had been letting out, she shouted urgently.

　　“St-Stop, stop!”

　　I want to suppress this impulse surging like an incoming tide. Only dimly aware of what was stirring in her subconscious, Hwani frantically sent out a plea for help.

　　“Mr. Ezio, stop! It hurts. Stop—ah!”

　　But Hwani soon realized something was wrong.

　　Ezio did not stop. Instead, his hand struck her bottom even faster and harder. For some reason, his eyes were glazed as if captivated by something, and his breath came rough and heavy through his nose. He was like a musician entirely engrossed in his instrument, lost in a trance. In turn, his blows grew steadily stronger, ringing out loudly.

　　“Mr. Ezio… Ah, hah, ugh…!”

　　If expressed in musical notation, it was like fierce forte (ƒ) markings steadily multiplying. One, two, three… finally reaching a climax.

　　Right then, a force strong enough to be called an Extreme Forte, surpassing even fortississimo (ƒƒƒ), overwhelmed Hwani.

　　“Cr-Cream pie!”

　　Finally, Hwani turned to her last resort. A dessert name, completely out of the blue in this situation. She had barely managed to recall the safeword they had agreed on beforehand and get it out.

　　It seemed to have worked. Ezio stopped dead that instant, as if an accident had occurred—like a teacup overturning in the middle of a performance.