"Elisabeth, if I may..."
Athena looked to be the one to step up first for her ten lashes.
"For the sake of admitting fault... I think I should go first."
Elisabeth's eyebrows curved upwards as she kept her crop clutched, starting to wear an expression of growing intrigue. "I'm not surprised – you're simply the lesser of two faults, if I may admit."
"It's for the best, really." Athena's eyes lingered towards the still-nervous witch beside her; Mignon's increment of sweat didn't exactly slow, even when knowing she wasn't going first.
"I see... " Elisabeth brandished the riding crop with whipping intent – she easily understood the heart Athena was willing to put forward. "Then, Athena... if you could, bare your back."
"Pardon, ma'am?"
Elisabeth elaborated, as extensively as you'd expect. "If you were to be lashed as you are right now, it's unlikely any lasting marks would be made on your clothing. If people around this place are to see that you've made a mistake before the end of this whole tournament, you have to have at least some semblance of a scar..."
Somehow, that made Athena start to regret being the first in line for the lashes. The Blanctorche family must not have fooled around when it came to the 'bad eggs'.
On the other end, Mignon even silently whimpered from where she sat, at the back end of the bed watching, knowing she had to go through that as well. Just witnessing it was more than enough to strike fear, and if anything, the fact that the inevitable was prolonged a slight extra for her, made things just that little more worse.
"I'm not asking you to take any clothes fully off, by the way," noted Elisabeth, making things clear with her orders. "Just for you to lift your shirt enough. I'm going to need a canvas to lay this punishment."
Didn't completely help Athena escape from the uncomfortable tension, but she felt she still had to comply, just so things didn't worsen... Her hands lingered for a moment at the bottom of her school-uniform shirt before they grabbed on and slowly pulled. She turned towards the bed as she pulled the shirt up higher and higher off of her bod, stopping as the clothing sat at shoulder level. The only article of clothing she wasn't handling on her upper body was her bra, which the idol hoped wouldn't get in the way too much...
Athena gave in to the idea that she was going to get hurt for her justified misdeeds, and as she bent herself over the edge of the bed and prepared to endure, she was set to face the hard end of the crop like a woman should.
Mignon almost didn't want to look for the sake of this relatively private matter – but she felt subtly demanded to without any visual or audible cues from the hostess, who stared down at the almost bare back of the Psycho Soldier off on the other side of the bed.
Iroha could tell that the thoughts running through her superior's head were more than a handful, and very much mixed, just from the slight uncertainty in the eyes. "Is this going to hurt you too, madam?"
Elisabeth closed her eyes and took a silent breath in and out, remaining calm with her inner spirit as she looked on towards the prone, readied young lady awaiting what was to come.
...Elisabeth eventually answered. "Only a tiny bit... Business is business, even in punishment..."
She took one more step closer, and calmly raised the crop...
Thwip! One.
Athena's body flinched sideways as the crop made the hardest possible contact on her back.
That was all the confirmation the Psycho Soldier was able to gather, that the noble Blanctorche was holding nothing back.
Thwap! Two.
Athena's lower body curved against the bottom half of the bed, just a little bit, as she started to take a grasp of the bed.
Thwip! Three.
No one strike from the riding crop was too different from the last, or even the next, but the pain was unfortunately the exact same each time – a dull pain that was probably going to bother Athena for a while, even in her upcoming match
Thwup! Four.
Despite not being directly struck, Mignon too felt the pain that bounced upon Athena's reddening back.
Thwap! Five.
Something about the proper punishment delivered gave out a short radius of shared pain – Mignon was gradually curling up in the corner, and Iroha watched with her own personal feeling of unease.
Thwump! Six.
With this one, Athena felt the back hook of her bra possibly loosening – the crop may have hit a little too close to the undergarment.
Thwip! Seven.
Regardless, she wasn't moving many muscles against the 'terror' of the skin-rippling whip – unless something drastic happened.
Thwap! Eight.
"Aah~!"
And then something drastic may have happened.
That was the point where the bra split at the back, and Athena grasped against the front of herself to try and hold everything in place, while at the same time making sure the skin of her back – which was now showing selective redness at the points of which it was struck – stayed exposed for the last two lashes.
Elisabeth shielded the potentially shameful thoughts in her head and upon her expression as she saw the idol having a little bit of a struggle.
Thwip-thwop!
Nine and ten. The final lashes across the back bounced left to right and vice versa in the row.
There was a quicker stinging feeling from them compared to the first eight, almost as though Elisabeth had to hurry her pace just a slight, while Athena was holding onto her threatened dignity by a couple threads.
It didn't matter much about it being a private situation, as Athena carried that sort of PTSD-esque panic, knowing all too well the struggle of a wardrobe malfunction.
"Careful with yourself, Athena," Elisabeth soon advised. "If you need a moment to adjust, that's quite fine.
Seeing Mignon right in front of her, after a moment like that, resulted in reopened memories for Athena.
"Not a word." Memories she'd be better off repressing. She already had enough of Mignon's possible bullshit, even at the point where that witch may have learned her lesson at the hands – and riding crop – of the sole remaining Blanctorche.
Mignon stared back with an awkward glint flowing in her eyes beneath the slight tears remaining. In her thoughts, it was less a matter of herself keeping peace with privacy – much more about the whole room considering that no one seemed fully willing.
Another thing that came through her mind...
"Mignon, she can handle things herself. Please come forth..."
She was up next.
The pink witch's panic was desperately trying to break through the outer shell as she saw Elisabeth gesture with the whipping apparatus.
Mignon looked back at her 'partner in penalty' – Athena was now leaning on the side of the bed, shifting a little bit so that she was resting against the most comfortable area of her back.
For a moment, an awkward and worrisome grimace warped upon Mignon's face.
"Mignon? If you could...?"
The more assuring tone of Iroha as she called out to the witch didn't help matters much. Though it was a better alternative to the French dame dealing out the discipline,
"Miss Iroha... milad—" Mignon stopped herself, her hands awkwardly wriggling against her bosom sheepishly. "...Ms. Blanctorche? I... might need a moment to get this off..."
The outer-layer of Mignon's pseudo-fancy dress was a little more troublesome to deal with than Athena's more simple 'student' attire, just on the involvement of her back coattails alone. The more optimal route was to simply take that layer off.
All of a sudden, without that pink vest number on, Mignon looked slightly less cartoony when it came down to her simple, sleeveless undershirt and her dainty little red bowtie – but she knew the preparations didn't stop there. Much like the other receiver of the lashes before her, she had to show skin in order to have the full effect of it all...
GULP. "Okay... do your worst..." Mignon pretty much threw herself against the edge of the bed, struggling to pull upwards on the frilly undershirt with enough consistently as she bared most of her back to the bearer of the crop.
Elisabeth wound her ready arm back, the same way she did with Athena moments before...
"Wait."
Iroha suddenly reached and grabbed the crop-holding arm of her superior by the wrist – she nearly stumbled over her eternally-weak ankle, the extra bit of weight fumbling against Elisabeth's body and catching her attention just that much more.
As she watched, Athena was caught briefly by surprise at Iroha's interjection – and Mignon partially curved her upper body around in confusion.
Elisabeth's icy stare immediately hit the maid like a road spike to the forehead. "Iroha – why is it that you interject now?"
"This may sound like an odd request, but..." "I believe I should have the distinction to give Mignon her punishment."
For a moment, Elisabeth had a grasp for the right to question her subordinate's request. However, her judgment carried plenty of patience when putting the clues together on the chalkboard within her mind.
"Hmph... there must be clouds of something brewing against Mignon if you want the 'honors' of that. Is this about your lingering injury? Was she the cause of your concern there, intentional or not?"
When given extra time to put it to mind, Elisabeth had a feeling something was brewing in Iroha's mind moments back when they were heading into the room – the crane maid was walking with more of a limp than usual on the consistently-bandaged ankle.
Iroha nodded, admittting. "I couldn't say if it was 'intentional'. She may not have meant harm against most when she did what she did – but trust me when I say that I have a reason to handle her personally."
Elisabeth kept her breath held in the shared space within her mouth and nose, as she focused only on the decisions that mattered. Certainly an oddity, this one...
…
...She extended her hand, loosely handling the crop as she ultimately offered it to the willing maid.
"This crop is a prized possession, so treat it well. Not so much with Ms. Beart, however."
"Thank you..." With tiny bits of hesitation lingering in her fingers, Iroha held out towards the riding crop and carefully pried it off of Elisabeth's offering hand.
However... as the sparsely-dressed servant handled the crop and pondered following through with the penance as Elisabeth did with Athena... she looked straight ahead at the bowed-over witch, who sheltered her face fully against the bed-sheets again and muffled her moans of hidden worry.
"Then again... if I am to whip her, it shouldn't be on her back."
"Hmm?" Mignon was back to being confused as she again looked up from a faceful of bedsheets.
Elisabeth raised an eyebrow and turned towards Iroha again. "Pardon?"
The maid wasn't open to explaining in the exact next second, as she first took a few steps forward. She pulled down on the witch's lifted undershirt, setting it back to her waist – where her hand continued to linger...
...before grabbing onto the waistband of Mignon's pants and pulling downwards with intent to expose a certainly different area of skin...!
"Uuu-u-h-h-h-h-h?!" Mignon's body sprung up like a tree as the rough natural air of the room started to come down in the widening opening, of her pants pulled at the rear.
Athena looked baffled herself – things were getting personally uncomfortable for her. At least it was keeping her mind off the dull pain of the bruises on her back - something she was trying to linger around as she adjusted her re-hooked bra.
Lastly, Elisabeth's general strict prudence flourished through in that suddenly springing expression of confused repulse. "Iroha, for the love of God, tell me where this is going!"
"Something out of your comfort level, I imagine," Iroha answered. "Simple lashes on the back may be enough in your eyes, ma'am – but for the worst offender of the two, you can't just hit them on the surface."
The riding crop started to twirl in the hand of the crane maid as she slowly wound her arm. "My master taught me... that it's their dignity that should hurt worse...!"
THWUMP!
"Kheee—!" Mignon squealed with a pained fright as her hands got jittery – she quickly flopped back down against the bed.
The shock and awe in Elisabeth's eyes started to dispate into just general disappointment... "Iroha, I think I'm starting to regret putting you in charge of her punishment..."
"Now-now, Miss Blanctorche," Iroha assured as best as she could. "I know what I'm doing!"
Nine to go.
Thwap! Make that eight.
Mignon fought all the urges to throw an elbow back and intentionally hurt the maid this time for giving her a little bit more exposure than the pure witch ever wanted.
Thwump! Seven lashes left.
Thwamp! Six.
Mignon's butt was feeling all too tender and red under the pressure, even before she was halfway through the punishment. Somewhere in there was a hidden jealousy, feeling as though Athena basically got it easy in comparison, both in where the lashes were placed and how strong they were.
And yes, somehow Iroha managed a stronger handle of the ol' reliable crop than the noblewoman she served. Perhaps it was fueled a bit too much by feelings over that bad ankle?
"Athena!"
Athena flinched slightly to Iroha calling out to her – there was a subtle difference, a slightly angrier tone in the maid's voice than everyone was used to. It looked as though the Psycho Soldier was caught looking away from the scene of the punishment.
"Look this way, Athena," demanded. "I want both of you girls to learn."
As soon as she made clear she wanted the previously-punished to continue to bear witness, Iroha went back into the thick of it, the arm holding the borrowed crop continuing to put an absolute oomph into the swing.
Thwack! On the fifth lash, Mignon nearly tumbled fully onto the bed – and she had to control herself by clinging as hard as she could to the bed, both the sheets and the cushioning itself. She had an obligation to reluctantly fill with this penalty – even if it hurt her.
Thwap! Six lashes in, and it was by this point that Elisabeth started to cycle through the levels of depth in her consideration – consideration over whether she should step in or not.
She struggled to admit... "Iroha, I'm... not going to lie, I've never seen you like this before..."
Thwup!
Immediately after the seventh swipe with the crop, Iroha tilted her head again towards the hostess.
"I'm just doing what needs to be done, my lady – if this was more than you expected, my apologies..."
Her arm continued its whipping motion for one more...
Thwahp! ...to continue humbling poor Mignon with the increasing soreness incoming.
Elisabeth's composure as a just hostess overseeing the domineering discipline was being tested as she felt no choice but to let the maid continue 'what needed to be done'. She may have lit a fire under the generously-proportioned young lady...
"I don't know if I should be proud of your efforts or not..."
Thumk!
Returning to the other side of things, Mignon was thankful, at least, that it was almost over – even if the mental pain was going to last a little bit longer.
The ripple effect came across onto Athena's psyche as well, though she was mostly just surprised that the otherwise 'innocent' Iroha ('innocent' in quotes in due part to, obviously, the costume) was given the opportunity to help lay the law, and lay the law she god damn did.
Thwu'd!
As soon as the arm curved backwards one more time with that tenth, and to be absolute sure the final lash, Iroha's momentum came to a full stop as soon as she felt the crop being grabbed at the thin end.
"She's gotten her ten – you can stop now." Elisabeth remained calm as she put the maid's efforts to a halt when it was at its most necessary.
She kept the count of the lashes firm in her mind, and she started having a feeling as though her willing maid was not going to know when to stop with the power and determination that was overly exerted into each and every swipe of that crop that she had to take back before it was too late.
The tenth was the close to a pride-cracking chapter – not just for Mignon's rear, but for Iroha as well, the moment that she reached the ten-peat with the crop and was told to stop. As the riding crop returned into the hands of whom it belonged to, the subtle intensity and the intention of 'proper' punishment slowly lightened up and escaped the expression on the servant's face – and she promptly lost her footing upon the ever-injured foot, falling onto her butt as the emotional motivation creeped out of mind in exchange for mental exhaustion.
Iroha's ankle ached like a beartrap crunching in on it – she should not have been up and in work with a condition that lingered like that for a life time, let alone one that was agitated further by collateral damage, but she was still standing strong for the most part.
Physically, at least. Mentally, she was a mixed bag as she had yet to fully figure out if the ramifications of this private moment with the guilty party was going to be worth it for the long-run.
Especially for the one she missed the most.
"Are you proud of me, master?"
Iroha had now started staring up to the ceiling, her eyes attempting to pierce through to see the nice blue sky beyond the roof. "Are you proud of me...?"
All that was overwhelming her thoughts... it was starting to make her shed a tear or two.
Thankfully, Elisabeth had it in her heart to keep her cohort emotionally warm – the noble Frenchwoman slowly agreed to an embrace against the maid, wrapping her arms around Iroha as she allowed a bit of comfort. This embrace allowed her to pick Iroha back up to her feet without putting too much roughness on the bad ankle.
With things now sorted through and the worst of the moment being over and done with, Elisabeth looked ahead to the ladies who will have some marks on their skin and likely other places...
"The worst is over and done with now..."
She turned her head in one direction towards one of the 'punished'. "Athena... you still have a match coming soon – mend your wounds and prepare." Then she turned aside to another direction... "Mignon... just... find a way to be comfortable. Not here, obviously..."
The two vanished behind the double-doors of the room, and it closed with a minimal thud of wood, leaving the freshly punished to themselves for some moments to think.
Mignon was back to leaning against the bed, feeling slightly more uncomfortable than before as she tried not to put too much weight on the aching ass she carried now.
Meanwhile, Athena was standing around the corner to the left of her usually-obnoxious counterpart, a hand resting beyond her neck, pondering something. Her eyes had been left on Iroha for the majority of Mignon's punishment, and she collected a little more information privately.
Athena was perfectly fine, however, knowing the first thing to come to her mind out of this info, was the very first thing to pass through her lips. "I know you probably weren't paying attention on the maid..."
"Hmm?" Mignon was naturally confused. "Why do you say that?"
"I was looking at her as she was whipping you – mind you, she didn't give me much of a choice – and... honestly... it seems like she was working up more of a sweat than you'd think. Almost like it was kinda... taxing on not just her body."
"...Whaaaat are you getting at?"
"...She was whispering about her 'master' after she did it..." Athena left it at that for the 'master' stuff, hoping the witch would take her word for it despite her likely inferior listening skills. "…I don't want you especially to think I sound like a pervert over it but – do you think she was getting... off, on something about it? Maybe there's something she's thinking about that we don't?"
Mignon blinked twice and let her eyebrows narrow down. "...You know what? You're right; you do sound like a pervert over it."
Athena was barely fazed, at least that was what it showed on her face and body language on the exterior.
"Maybe you're right. And you know another thing?"
"...I don't. What...?"
Smack! And Mignon went down with a pained squeal, her bruised rear agitated with a sneaky slap, courtesy of her 'rival'.
Athena felt a cathartic release from that, and now she felt personally accomplished heading into the next round. She was still, at least, welcoming to forgiveness. "Sorry, Mignon – that's been brewing in my head ever since you bit me."
The idol was successful in keeping her hands out of striking range until Elisabeth was out of sight. Everybody gets one chance to get a one-up on the 'competition', and the Psycho Soldier took it then and there
Angry steam was starting to brew in Mignon's head... "You jerk..."
"Listen, I gotta go train now – no hard feelings, okay?" Athena immediately warped out to safety somewhere else.
Now it was back to Mignon and the return of loneliness, as she took yet another 'defeat' in the premises of the tournament – at least this time it didn't end with her vomiting half her life force out.
And yet again, she spotted that blue butterfly making it's way into the room somehow.
And the aggravated witch simply proclaimed, "Now's not the time!"
"Oh. Sorry."
Mignon immediately froze up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice responding. She blinked thrice before slowly putting her glance fully on the butterfly.
"...Did you just talk?"
"...!" Cue the butterfly's wings halting very briefly in surprise before zipping away – as though it flew away in a panic, exiting through a window.
A window that it had to phase through magically as it was already closed.
The only conclusion Mignon could make?
"Yeah. I'm definitely losing my mind."
As more and more of the ladies met their last road in the tournament, losses pilling up in the last couple rounds, they slowly fell into the background once they knew all they could do was spectate and interact with others who either were fellow eliminations or weren't in the middle of a fight.
Not quite the case for someone like Sylvie Paula Paula. Based on just how she was dressed, she was one to dislike being in the background – though surprisingly she wasn't caught by Chizuru, Elisabeth or any other lady considered 'authority' ever since her loss.
Yeah, she may have had a couple run-ins here and there that, at one point, shoved her into a closet, but she inevitably found freedom – though with a few cleaning props stuck in her wide-reaching hairdo as a result.
"Biri-biri-birrrrrrrr..."
She suddenly keeled over, as if she powered down. All these hours of walking did away with the energy of her legs before long... did she even sleep?
"Can't move..." All she was left with in her body was her arms – and she had to use them in order to crawl and drag herself further down the turn of the corner coming up.
"Need... recharge..." The electricity flowing through her body, especially within her unsettling eye decorations, was looking a little short on juice – the most she could regularly muster up right now were tiny sparks.
Once she got out of this weird 'maze' of hallways in the expansive mansion, she was going to get that electricity flowing back in her somehow. Unfortunately for others who would want to know (even the one writing this story), the only one who knew how to recharge Sylvie was, of course, Sylvie herself.
Even the people who turned her into this oddity with the clown-vomit clothes weren't highly certain of how she ticked – but her repressed memories were staying repressed.
That was when she found her first obstacle coming her way.
Angel. Just the lady Sylvie didn't want to see.
She was right there, a few feet from the turn of the next hall, plopping down some deep squats in her usual – and round-wise, likely successful – pre-match ritual. From the implications of her locale and her exercise, her number has probably just come up for her third-round fight.
It was probably better off that Sylvie tried to sneak her way past the NESTS superior – with how she looked, stealth seemed pretty impossible. Unless she tried to graze by quietly, in this tight hall, without even the slightest of hair grazing by.
For a couple moments, it almost seemed like it was working for Paula Paula by the point where she was halfway past where Angel stood.
She was quickly proven wrong.
"UMPH!"
Sylvie found her face getting pressed against the carpet, and a newfound pressure being pushed down on top to make sure she couldn't lift herself off. The blonde fluffiness of the hair down the back of her head, was now being used as a seat for the leather-jacket vixen.
'Amused' with the reunion, Angel met down on Sylvie with the cheekiest of smiles. "How's it going, Sylvie? Bet all that time you spent in the closet helped you learn your lesson, I hope."
"Mmmn! Mrrrhmhhn~!" Sylvie's head squirmed beneath the discomfort of Angel's butt crushing down on her.
"I wouldn't squirm too hard if I were you," Angel noted. "With the right amount of pressure, these glutes can crush steel. Haven't tried it on someone's face, though..."
"Nmm-nmm-nmm-nmm! (No-no-no-no!)" Sylvie's limbs even flailed harder. The piss-poor timing with having gone 'low on battery' didn't help her situation...
The fussing about beneath her was only proving to irritate Angel before long – it meant she had to put some more strength down on her hips to crush down on the 'NESTS Reject'. "Okay, you are the worst pillow, Sylvie. You can't stop squirming, now can ya? Maybe if I put the pressure on ya…"
Sylvie again fussed in muffled agony, "Mmmmnnrrr—!" What was left of her 'electric mayhem' crackled semi-helplessly as she tried to put strength through her arms in a pushup-esque upwards struggle.
The struggle proved futile, as Angel's toned body overpowered again and her butt indirectly slammed Sylvie's face back down to Earth.
"Yep. Just as I thought. You got no muscle." brought an elbow against her knee and rested her face and her fist. Already, this tidbit of bullying was growing boring – as the thrill that Angel generally chases after was not exactly there.
She sighed. "What the hell am I gonna do with you...? Can't just put you out of your misery, not in this place..."
…
A new pair of footsteps faintly started to make its way into everyone else's eardrums – for Sylvie, it almost felt like a possible rescue incoming.
"Ohhh?" But for Angel, she simply knew that this had to be her next opponent.
On the cusp of showtime, once again.
"Alright, guess I can leave this garbage be for now... but before I do..."
Angel had her eyes on what looked to be a little trip downstairs at the end of the hallway.
The answer was closer to the leather-jacketed babe than she expected.
…
"Aaah!"
Thump-baduhp-bump—! Thumpa-thump-brumph...!
The brief but shrill yelp of Sylvie, followed instantly by the brutal thudding of the surreal popstar's unsafe tumble down the stairs, was music to the ears for Angel, who dusted off her hands in a job well done.
It was the only way she was going to reasonably deal with the absurdly-clothed blonde without brutally injuring (at least MORE brutally than a 'good toss' down the stairs) or damn near personally killing the 'reject'. Treated like garbage, might as well throw her out like garbage.
She put her eyes towards the hall perpendicular to the stairwell. "C'mon, I can hear your crap dragging on the floor from here. You bringin' a 'gift' or somethin'?"
Her ears continued to stand at attention to the barely audible footsteps, instead focusing more on the additional noise that came alongside it.
A faint scratching of something against the carpet.
That something being a pair of swords.
The swords of Shiki – as she somberly forced herself forward towards what would be her opponent.
With the little lacerations sporadic around her body from a morning's worth of combat, she didn't look too much better coming out of the recent bout that brought her officially into the brackets – but she handled her twin katanas with zero reluctance regardless.
"I bring no gifts to you... Only agony."
Next Chapter: Two vixens hard to resist – two different personalities, but a similar kind of ruthlessness. Angel vs. Shiki, up next!