Punishment of the Heavenly Punishment Lord

Within the vast expanse of the cultivation world, the path of immortality stretched across countless peaks and valleys, a realm where the strong reigned supreme. The stages of cultivation—Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul, and the legendary Unity—marked the journey of every cultivator. Yet in this world, women far outnumbered men. Male cultivators were scarce, but those who rose to prominence wielded immense power. Among them was a peculiar custom: a male cultivator could take a female cultivator as a female slave by spanking her buttocks, an act that supposedly accelerated the cultivation of both parties. However, most female cultivators despised this tradition, viewing it as a degrading subjugation they would resist with all their might.

The Heavenly Punishment Lord, Xuan Fa, was a name that echoed through the cultivation world like thunder. Clad in black training clothes that clung to his muscular frame, his face was cold and handsome, his eyes like frozen stars that betrayed no emotion. He was a man of his word, ruthless and unwavering. At the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage, he stood among the strongest in the world, his finger techniques capable of tearing through mountains and rivers. But what set him apart was his singular obsession: he loved spanking women's buttocks. It was not mere cruelty but a principle he upheld, a method of discipline and pleasure intertwined.

On this day, word reached him that a disciple of the all-female Immortal Cloud Sect had accidentally offended him. The offense was trivial—a misplaced insult during a minor dispute—but Xuan Fa did not care for trifles or excuses. He set out for the sect, his black robes billowing as he soared through the sky. Behind him, the clouds parted, and the world seemed to hold its breath. He intended to spank every female cultivator in the Immortal Cloud Sect, to leave their buttocks bruised and red, a lesson they would not forget.

The Immortal Cloud Sect sat atop a jade-green mountain, its peaks shrouded in mist that shimmered with spiritual energy. The sect was known for its elegant sword techniques and its all-female membership, led by Sect Leader Shen Mengyue. As Xuan Fa landed before the sect's grand gate, the disciples scrambled in panic. Their swords trembled in their hands as they recognized the emblem on his chest—a silver talon gripping a thunderbolt.

"Sect Leader! The Heavenly Punishment Lord is here!" a disciple cried, rushing into the main hall.

Shen Mengyue stood from her seat, her waist-length black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. She wore black and white Daoist robes that accentuated her figure—the fair skin of a young woman blended with the mature charm of an experienced cultivator. Her eyes were cool and gentle, but hardened with resolve. She was a middle-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, skilled in the sword, and she would not let her sect be humiliated without a fight.

She stepped out to meet Xuan Fa, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Heavenly Punishment Lord, I apologize for my disciple's rudeness. Let us resolve this peacefully."

Xuan Fa's gaze swept over her, cold and assessing. "Peace? I have no interest in peace. Your disciple offended me. Now, every woman in this sect will learn what it means to face the Heavenly Punishment."

Shen Mengyue's jaw tightened. She knew his reputation, his obsession. She could not allow that. "Then I will stand for my sect. If you can defeat me, do as you wish. But I will not yield without a fight."

Xuan Fa's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, a rare sight that held no warmth. "So be it."

The battle erupted in an instant. Shen Mengyue drew her sword, a blade of crystalline light that hummed with spiritual energy. She lunged, her movements fluid and precise, her sword tracing arcs of pure white light. Xuan Fa did not draw any weapon. He raised three fingers, and a beam of black energy shot forth, striking her blade. The clash sent shockwaves across the courtyard, shattering the stone tiles.

Shen Mengyue gritted her teeth and pressed forward. Her sword danced like a serpent, each strike aimed at his vital points. Xuan Fa deflected them with casual swipes of his fingers, his eyes never leaving her face. He was testing her, measuring her strength. She was skilled, he admitted, but not enough.

After several exchanges, Xuan Fa decided the game was over. He appeared before her in a blur, his hand closing around her sword arm. She gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was like iron. His other hand made a swift gesture, and a seal of black energy slammed into her chest. The impact threw her backward, and she crashed onto the ground, her sword skittering away.

Shen Mengyue lay on the broken stone, her robes torn and dusty, blood trickling from the corner of her lip. She tried to rise, but her body refused to obey. She had used only thirty percent of his strength, she realized with horror. He had been holding back, and even then, she could not match him.

Xuan Fa walked toward her, his footsteps slow and deliberate. Each footstep echoed in the silent courtyard, where the disciples watched in frozen terror. He stopped beside her, looking down at her prostrate form. Her eyes met his, wide with fear and defiance.

"Your sect's discipline ends today," he said, his voice low and cold. "And you, Sect Leader, will be the first to learn my lesson."

He reached down, his hand approaching her. Shen Mengyue's breath caught, her heart pounding. She knew what was coming. There was no escape. And the entire cultivation world would soon know what the Heavenly Punishment Lord had done to the Immortal Cloud Sect.

Half a year had passed in the Xuan Heaven Realm, and the routine had become as predictable as the rising and setting of the sun. Li Que knelt on the cold jade floor, her red hair brushing against her shoulders as she lowered her upper body, raising her buttocks high into the air. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin assumed the same position, her twin ponytails dangling as she prostrated herself. Both women were naked, their bodies marked by countless stripes and welds from the Heavenly Dao Planks that had become their daily companions.

Every morning began with cultivation—sitting in meditation, circulating their qi, strengthening their cores. Then came the spanking, the sharp crack of divine wood against flesh echoing through the training hall. Two hundred strikes each, precisely administered by Xuan Fa's will. Afterward, healing, their bodies mending under the gentle glow of cultivation techniques. Then cultivation again. Then spanking again. Healing again. The cycle was endless, monotonous, and somehow liberating.

Li Que had grown accustomed to it. The burn of the plank, the throbbing aftermath, the sweet relief of healing qi knitting torn skin back together. She had learned to savor the pain, to draw strength from it. Her cultivation had advanced more in these six months than in the previous decade. There was power in submission, she had discovered. Power in yielding completely to another's will.

"What does Master like most?" Lin Qiaoxin asked one afternoon, her voice light and playful as she knelt before Xuan Fa. Her buttocks still bore the pink lines of that morning's punishment, but she showed no sign of discomfort. The girl was a marvel of endurance.

Xuan Fa sat on a raised dais, his black training clothes immaculate, his cold handsome face unreadable. He regarded them both with the detachment of a scholar examining specimens. "I love watching female cultivators suffer," he said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "Their torment gives me strength. Their agony clarifies my mind. Their humiliation nourishes my cultivation."

Li Que felt a shiver run down her spine, but it was not fear. It was anticipation. She understood now. Every tear, every scream, every moment of helpless writhing fed something deep within this man. And through him, it fed her as well.

"We have an opportunity, Master," Li Que said, raising her head to meet his gaze. "The whole cultivation world knows that Shen Mengyue was stripped naked and spanked at the Immortal Cloud Sect's main hall. They all witnessed her shame. But not everyone knows about us. The formation genius Lin Qiaoxin and the deputy leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect have become your female slaves."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "We want to change that. We want everyone to see."

Xuan Fa's eyebrow arched slightly. "Continue."

"Lead us to the highest platform in Wuling City," Li Que said, her voice steady despite the words leaving her lips. "Let us crawl there naked on all fours, like dogs. Have Shen Mengyue's disciple lead her by a dog leash to the same platform. Let the three of us kneel in a row, upper bodies prostrated, buttocks raised high. Let you summon the Heavenly Dao Planks and spank all three of us until our buttocks are completely mangled, until even cultivators would need a week to recover."

Lin Qiaoxin took up the narrative, her voice sweet and eager. "Then spread our legs wide. Whip our butt cracks, our anuses, our vulvas, until everything is swollen and raw. Insert anal hooks into our swollen anuses and hang us up for display. For a week. Let the whole world see what happens to female cultivators who defy the Heavenly Punishment Lord."

Xuan Fa's lips curved into something that was almost a smile. It was terrifying and beautiful. "You would offer yourselves like this?"

"Your pleasure is our purpose," Li Que said, bowing her head.

"Your happiness is our cultivation," Lin Qiaoxin added, doing the same.

Xuan Fa nodded slowly. "I agree to your plan. But first, I wish to try something new."

He rose from his seat and walked to a storage cabinet at the far end of the hall. When he returned, he carried a small jade bottle filled with a viscous golden liquid. The scent that emanated from it was sharp and pungent, burning the nostrils.

"This is ginger juice," Xuan Fa said, holding up the bottle. "Squeezed from divine ginger that grows in the celestial mountains. One drop on the tongue would cause a mortal to choke to death. One cup would cause an ordinary cultivator's internal organs to burn. But administered rectally..."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes widened, but her grin did not fade. "That sounds intense."

"It is," Xuan Fa confirmed. "The pain is akin to a red-hot iron rod being inserted into the anus. The suffering is exquisite."

Li Que's heart pounded, but she did not flinch. She had chosen this path. She would walk it to the end.

"Kneel on the ground," Xuan Fa commanded. "Raise your buttocks. Spread your anuses with your own hands."

Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin obeyed instantly. They positioned themselves side by side, their upper bodies flat against the floor, their buttocks raised to the heavens. Each reached back with both hands, fingers finding their own anuses and pulling them open, exposing the pink interiors to Xuan Fa's gaze.

"Good girls," Xuan Fa said, and the praise sent a strange warmth through Li Que's chest despite the terror of what was coming.

He approached Li Que first. She felt the cool rim of the jade bottle press against her exposed anus, followed by the sudden gush of thick, burning liquid being poured directly into her intestines. The sensation was immediate and catastrophic.

It was exactly as Xuan Fa had described. A red-hot iron rod seemed to have been inserted into her anus, but it was worse. So much worse. The liquid seemed to coat her insides, seeping into every fold and crevice, setting each nerve ending ablaze. Li Que screamed, her body convulsing, her hands losing their grip on her anus as she collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony.

Lin Qiaoxin received the same treatment moments later. The girl's playful demeanor shattered instantly, replaced by raw, animalistic screams. She thrashed on the ground, her hands clawing at the floor, her legs kicking wildly.

"It burns!" Lin Qiaoxin wailed. "It burns so much!"

Li Que could barely hear her over her own howls of pain. Her insides felt as though they were being hollowed out by fire. Every nerve in her lower body screamed in protest. She curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down her face, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Xuan Fa watched them calmly, his hands clasped behind his back. "The pain will last for several hours before it begins to fade. During this time, any touch to the anus or rectum will be excruciating. This will make your daily punishment... interesting."

He waited patiently while they thrashed and screamed. He waited while their cries turned to sobs, while their sobs turned to whimpers. An hour passed. Two. Three. Gradually, the intense burning began to subside, settling into a deep, agonizing ache that pulsed in time with their heartbeats.

When they could finally control themselves enough to kneel again, their bodies still trembled. Their anuses twitched and spasmed involuntarily, leaking traces of the golden liquid that still stained their insides.

"Now," Xuan Fa said, his voice cold and businesslike, "it is time for your daily punishment. Two hundred Heavenly Dao Plank strikes each. Kneel and present."

Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin assumed the position once more, their bodies shaking, their raised buttocks quivering with anticipation. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through their inflamed rectums.

"One more thing," Xuan Fa added. "During the spanking, do not lose control. Do not spray intestinal fluid onto my floor. If either of you fails to hold back, your punishment will be doubled."

The plank materialized in the air, glowing with the golden light of the Heavenly Dao. It swung back and then forward, slamming into Li Que's right buttock with a crack that echoed through the hall.

The pain was beyond anything Li Que had experienced. The ginger juice had sensitized her entire lower body, and every strike felt like a blade being driven into her flesh. She clenched her muscles desperately, trying to hold back the pressure building in her bowels.

"One," Xuan Fa counted.

The plank struck again, hitting her left buttock. Li Que's vision went white. She dug her fingernails into the floor, her entire body straining to maintain control.

"Two."

Lin Qiaoxin's whimper beside her told Li Que that her companion was suffering just as much. Together, they endured the third strike, the fourth, the fifth.

By the tenth strike, Li Que's control was slipping. The combination of the ginger juice's residual burn and the impact of the plank was overwhelming her senses. She could feel the pressure building, the liquid in her intestines demanding release.

"Hold," she whispered to herself. "Hold."

The eleventh strike landed. Li Que's muscles gave way. The golden liquid sprayed from her anus in a violent gush, splattering across the floor. The relief was immediate and mortifying.

Xuan Fa paused. "Lin Qiaoxin, you held. Well done. Li Que, you have failed. Your punishment is now doubled. Four hundred strikes."

Li Que bowed her head, shame burning through her even more intensely than the ginger juice. "Yes, Master."

But Lin Qiaoxin's relief was short-lived. The twelfth strike hit her, and she too lost control, her own body betraying her as intestinal fluid sprayed out. She hung her head in defeat.

"Also doubled," Xuan Fa said. "Four hundred strikes each. And let us begin again from the first."

The Heavenly Dao Plank resumed its work, and the hall filled with the sounds of cracking wood, screaming women, and Xuan Fa's cold, steady count. By the time the four hundred strikes were completed, Li Que and Lin Qiaoxin lay on the floor, their buttocks a mangled mess of torn flesh and blood, their minds hovering on the edge of consciousness.

Xuan Fa looked down at them, his expression unchanged. "Tomorrow, we begin preparations for Wuling City. Rest now. Heal. You will need your strength."

Li Que closed her eyes, feeling the healing qi already beginning to flow through her body, knitting torn flesh, soothing inflamed nerves. Tomorrow would bring new suffering. But tonight, she would rest in the strange peace that came only after complete and total surrender.

The midday sun beat down on Wuling City’s main thoroughfare, casting sharp shadows across the cobblestones. Xuan Fa strode through the eastern gate with the unhurried confidence of a man who owned the very ground beneath his feet. In his left hand, he held two leather leashes, each attached to a collar of polished black iron. At the other ends of those leashes, crawling on hands and knees, were Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que.

Both women were utterly naked.

Lin Qiaoxin’s twin ponytails bounced with each crawling step, her youthful body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Her small breasts swayed, nipples pebbled against the warm air. Behind her, Li Que moved with a warrior’s disciplined grace despite the humiliation, her athletic frame tensed, red hair brushing against her shoulders. Their buttocks—still bearing the faded pink remnants of previous punishments—rose and fell with every crawl.

Pedestrians halted mid-stride. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Children were pulled behind mothers’ skirts, then swiftly turned away. A murmur rippled through the crowd like wind through wheat.

“Is that… the Vermilion Bird deputy leader?”

“And the rogue cultivator prodigy? The one who broke through to Nascent Soul last month?”

“Naked. Both of them. Crawling like dogs.”

Xuan Fa’s face remained impassive, but a faint curl of satisfaction tugged at the corner of his lips. He tugged the leashes gently, and both women quickened their pace. Lin Qiaoxin looked up at the crowd with a bright, playful smile, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. She seemed almost proud to be seen this way.

Li Que kept her eyes forward, jaw tight, but she did not slow. She had accepted her place after her defeat. The strong commanded. The weak obeyed. She was no longer weak.

But neither woman could fully mask the tremors that wracked their bodies. Every few steps, a shudder passed through them, visible in the twitch of a thigh or the clench of a buttock. The reason was hidden from the onlookers, but inside their anal canals, their intestines were packed with fresh ginger juice. The spicy, burning liquid had been injected that morning, and it had not stopped working since.

Lin Qiaoxin’s grin faltered as another wave of heat shot up her spine. She pressed her forehead to the ground for a moment, breathing hard. “Master… that’s… that’s really intense today…”

Xuan Fa glanced down without breaking stride. “Endure.”

“Yes, Master,” she gasped, and crawled on.

Li Que said nothing, but her knuckles were white against the cobblestones. The ginger burned deep, a relentless fire that made every muscle in her core clench. She ground her teeth and kept moving.

The crowd parted before them. Whispers grew louder. Some men smirked, others turned away in discomfort. A few women covered their mouths, faces flushed. Xuan Fa led his two slaves through the market square, past the fountain, toward the raised platform at the city’s center.

And then the murmurs shifted. Heads turned toward a side street.

Shen Mengyue crawled out from between two buildings.

Her disciple, a young woman in Immortal Cloud Sect robes, held her leash with trembling hands. The disciple’s face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She did not dare look at her sect leader. Shen Mengyue was naked—completely and utterly bare before the hundreds of eyes now fixed upon her. Her waist-length black hair dragged through the dust, tangled and dirty. Her fair skin, once the envy of cultivation maidens, was smudged with grime.

She did not raise her head.

She could not.

Humiliation drowned her like a tidal wave, crushing, suffocating. Every step on her hands and knees scraped her pride raw. She had been the Immortal Cloud Sect’s leader, a woman of dignity and power, respected across the cultivation world. Now she crawled through the streets of Wuling City, her breasts hanging, her buttocks exposed, her most private places on display for anyone who cared to stare.

They stared. Oh, how they stared.

A merchant spat. “Look at the great sect leader now.”

A young cultivator laughed. “I heard she got spanked bare in front of her own disciples.”

Shen Mengyue’s face burned. Tears threatened, but she forced them back. Crying would only make it worse. She focused on the cobblestones, on the cracks between them, on anything but the faces around her. Her hands were raw. Her knees were scraped. But the worst pain was not physical.

*This is worse than death*, she thought. *I should have died in battle. I should have let the demon kill me.*

But she had not died. She had been humiliated, stripped, and now she crawled like an animal. The disciple leading her was one she had trained herself, a girl she had taught sword forms and meditation techniques. Now that girl guided her leash, eyes averted, shame radiating from her every movement.

Shen Mengyue reached the square. She saw the platform ahead, and on it, Xuan Fa standing tall. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were already there, kneeling on either side of him. They glanced at her with expressions she could not read—Lin Qiaoxin’s gaze was curious, Li Que’s was coldly acknowledging.

Shen Mengyue crawled up the platform steps. Her bare thighs scraped against the wood. She reached the top and knelt, head bowed, waiting.

Xuan Fa surveyed the crowd. The square was packed now, hundreds of cultivators and mortals alike, pressing close to witness the spectacle. He raised a hand, and silence fell.

“These three women,” he said, his voice carrying effortlessly, “have committed crimes against me. They have been judged. They have been sentenced.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Today, I will carry out that sentence in public.”

A murmur rippled. Some cheered. Others gasped.

Xuan Fa gestured. “Kneel in a row. Upper bodies prostrate. Buttocks raised high.”

Lin Qiaoxin moved first, eagerly positioning herself. She lay flat on her stomach, arms stretched forward, and arched her back, lifting her plump, round buttocks high into the air. Her cheeks were still tender from previous spankings, pale pink fading to white. She wiggled them slightly, a playful gesture that made Xuan Fa’s eye twitch.

Li Que followed without hesitation. She prostrated herself beside Lin Qiaoxin, her athletic buttocks rising higher, the muscles in her thighs and back tight. She did not wiggle. She held still, a statue of submission.

Shen Mengyue’s heart hammered. She could not do this. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

“Shen Mengyue,” Xuan Fa said, his tone flat. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Her body moved before her mind consented. She lowered herself to the platform, the rough wood scraping her breasts and stomach. She stretched her arms forward, pressed her forehead to the wood, and arched her back. Her buttocks rose—softer, fuller than the other two, a creamy curve that had never been displayed to anyone before. Now it was bared to a thousand eyes.

Xuan Fa stepped back. He raised both hands, palms open, and summoned his technique. Golden light gathered around his fingers, then shot upward. Three planks of wood materialized from the air—Heavenly Dao Planks, inscribed with runes that glowed with celestial law. They hovered above each woman’s raised buttocks.

“The punishment begins,” Xuan Fa announced. “One hundred strikes each. Automatic. Unrelenting.”

The first plank descended.

*CRACK*.

Lin Qiaoxin gasped, her body jerking forward. A bright red handprint bloomed on her left buttock. Before she could recover, the plank rose and fell again.

*CRACK*.

Her right cheek. She bit her lip, but a small whimper escaped.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK*.

The planks struck in rhythm, thudding against flesh with merciless precision. Lin Qiaoxin’s buttocks bounced with each impact, the skin reddening, darkening. She gripped the wood with her fingers, tears gathering in her eyes, but she did not cry out. Instead, a strange warmth spread through her chest. *This is for Master. I am serving Master.* The thought made the pain almost pleasurable.

Beside her, Li Que took her strokes in silence. The plank slammed into her athletic cheeks, leaving deep red stripes. Her body rocked forward with each blow, but she made no sound. Her jaw was clenched so tight her teeth ached. She counted the strikes in her head. *Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.* She would endure. She had endured worse in battle.

Shen Mengyue screamed on the first strike.

The plank hit her soft, untouched buttock with a force that sent shockwaves through her entire body. A loud, wet *SMACK* echoed across the square, followed by her cry of pain. She clawed at the wood, trying to crawl away, but her body would not obey. The second strike fell, and she sobbed.

*CRACK*.

“Please—please, no—”

*CRACK*.

Her protests were drowned by the rhythmic pounding. Her buttocks turned from pale to pink to red to a deep, angry crimson. Each strike left a new welt, overlapping, merging. The pain was a living thing, a fire that spread from her cheeks down her thighs and up her spine. She wept openly, her tears pooling on the wood beneath her face.

The crowd watched in silence. Some winced. Others grinned. A few recorded the scene with memory stones, preserving it for posterity.

Forty strikes. Fifty. Seventy.

Lin Qiaoxin’s buttocks were now a uniform, mottled purple. The skin had split in a few places, thin lines of blood trickling down her thighs. She was crying, but her lips were curved in a strange smile. *Eighty-two. Eight-three.* She could feel the end approaching, and with it, a sense of accomplishment.

Li Que’s athletic cheeks were black and blue, swollen twice their normal size. Blood dripped from the deepest welts, pooling on the platform. Her breath came in controlled huffs. She had stopped counting at ninety. Her mind was a blank wall of endurance.

Shen Mengyue had stopped screaming. Her voice was gone, worn raw. Her buttocks were unrecognizable—a mass of purple, black, and red, covered in open wounds. The planks continued their relentless assault, each strike sending fresh agony through her shattered nerves. She trembled violently, her sobs reduced to hoarse gasps.

One hundred.

The planks stopped. They hovered for a moment, then dissolved into golden light.

Xuan Fa stepped forward. He inspected each woman’s buttocks with clinical detachment. “Good. The first stage is complete.” He turned to the crowd. “You see the marks of justice. But they are not yet finished.”

He raised his hand again, and a whip materialized—a long, black cord tipped with barbed metal. It hummed with power.

“Legs. Spread them wide.”

Lin Qiaoxin complied immediately, pushing her knees apart until her thighs formed a wide V. Her swollen buttocks spread, revealing her anus and vulva, both puckered and red from the ginger juice’s lingering burn.

Li Que followed, her movements mechanical, her legs parting to expose her most intimate places.

Shen Mengyue hesitated. Her legs trembled. She could not—she could not—

“Spread them,” Xuan Fa repeated, his voice hardening.

Slowly, sobbing, she pushed her knees apart. Her crushed buttocks separated, revealing her anus, tight and untouched, and her vulva, pink and swollen with stress.

Xuan Fa raised the whip.

“Twenty lashes to the butt crack. Each of you.”

He brought the whip down.

The first lash caught Lin Qiaoxin’s anus dead center. The barbed tip bit into the sensitive flesh, tearing a thin line. She shrieked, her entire body convulsing. The whip rose and fell again, catching her vulva this time, splitting the delicate skin. Blood welled up.

Li Que took her lashes in silence, but her eyes were squeezed shut. The barbed cord cut into her anus, slicing through the tender ring. Her legs twitched with each impact, but she did not scream. She bit her tongue until she tasted copper.

Shen Mengyue’s screams returned. The whip struck her anus, ripping through the untouched flesh. She felt it tear, felt the blood flow. The next lash caught her vulva, slicing through the inner labia. Pain beyond anyt

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The week stretched into an eternity of agony for Shen Mengyue. Each moment suspended from the anal hooks brought fresh waves of torment that radiated from her violated anus through her entire body. The pain was a constant, burning presence that never truly faded, only ebbed and flowed in intensity. But worse than the physical suffering was the spiritual humiliation that ate at her soul like acid.

She hung there, completely naked, her legs spread wide by the chains attached to the hooks that pierced her most private orifice. Her breasts swayed freely, her dark hair cascading down in tangled strands. Every day, the citizens of Wuling City would pass by, some averting their eyes in shame, others staring with undisguised curiosity or cruel amusement. She had been the respected sect leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, a woman of power and dignity. Now she was nothing more than a public spectacle, a lesson in the consequences of defying the Heavenly Punishment Lord.

Her disciples had seen her bare buttocks reddened by Xuan Fa's palm. Now the entire cultivation world knew of her shame.

Lin Qiaoxin hung to her right, her youthful face carrying an expression of resigned acceptance rather than despair. The twin-tailed rogue cultivator had been through this before, had felt the bite of the anal hooks during her own punishment. She knew the pain would end, knew that survival depended on enduring without breaking.

Li Que hung to her left, the red-haired deputy leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect maintaining a stoic silence. Her athletic body bore the marks of the hooks as well, but her pride had already been crushed when she voluntarily became Xuan Fa's female slave. She accepted her master's punishment as part of her new existence.

"The first three days were the worst," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice hoarse but carrying a hint of her usual playfulness. "After that, your body kind of... gives up. The pain becomes background noise."

Shen Mengyue didn't respond. She couldn't find words through the fog of pain and humiliation.

Li Que snorted softly. "The master knows what he's doing. The hooks are positioned to cause maximum discomfort without permanent damage. He wants us to feel every moment of our punishment."

"Why are you defending him?" Shen Mengyue's voice came out as a croak.

"I'm not defending him. I'm stating facts." Li Que shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at the hooks. "I chose to become his female slave because he proved himself stronger. That's the way of things. The strong rule, the weak submit."

"I didn't choose anything," Shen Mengyue said bitterly.

"No," Li Que agreed. "You were given a choice and refused it. So now you're being taught to accept reality."

The seventh day arrived with the gray light of dawn. Shen Mengyue's body had gone numb, the constant agony now a dull, throbbing presence that she had learned to exist within. She barely registered the approach of figures in black robes until hands were on her, manipulating the chains, releasing the hooks from their moorings.

The moment the hooks were removed from her anus, Shen Mengyue cried out. The pain of withdrawal was somehow worse than the pain of insertion. Her violated orifice clenched and released, and she felt something warm and wet trickle down her inner thighs. She didn't want to think about what it was.

Her legs wouldn't hold her. She collapsed to the stone floor of the platform, her body shaking uncontrollably. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que also fell, but they managed to push themselves up onto their knees, heads bowed in submission.

Xuan Fa appeared before them as if materializing from the shadows themselves. His black training clothes seemed to drink the light around him, and his cold, handsome face betrayed no emotion. His eyes swept over the three kneeling women, lingering on Shen Mengyue's trembling form.

"The week is complete," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "You have all endured the punishment for defying the Heavenly Punishment Lord. Now, we discuss the future."

He stepped closer to Shen Mengyue, who refused to look up at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the stone floor, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Shen Mengyue," he said, and her name on his lips sounded like a verdict. "You have seen the consequences of your actions. Your sect knows of your shame. The cultivation world knows of your shame. Yet I offer you a path forward."

He paused, letting the silence stretch.

"Enter the Xuan Heaven Realm of your own will. Become my female slave, and I will protect the Immortal Cloud Sect. Your disciples will be safe. Your sect will continue to exist under my protection."

Shen Mengyue's head snapped up, her eyes wild with desperation. "No! I cannot become a slave! I am the sect leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect! I have responsibilities, disciples who depend on me!"

"You have already failed those responsibilities," Xuan Fa said coldly. "Your naked body, your spanked buttocks, your violated anus—these are what your disciples remember. Can you lead them after this? Can you command their respect?"

Shen Mengyue's face crumpled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she prostrated herself before him, her voice breaking as she begged.

"Please, Lord Xuan Fa, have mercy! I am being punished now because I offended you. I accept that punishment. But do not make me your slave! I will do anything else, anything at all, but please, spare me this ultimate humiliation!"

"Stubborn," Xuan Fa said, the single word carrying dismissal.

He gestured, and Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que rose from their kneeling positions. They approached Shen Mengyue from either side, their hands reaching for her.

"What are you doing?" Shen Mengyue's voice rose in panic as the two women grabbed her arms and forced her onto all fours. "Stop! What are you going to do?"

"Teaching you submission," Lin Qiaoxin said, and for once, there was no playfulness in her voice.

Li Que held Shen Mengyue's upper body down while Lin Qiaoxin positioned herself behind her. Shen Mengyue felt hands on her buttocks, spreading them apart, exposing her anus to the open air. The tender orifice was still red and irritated from the week of hooks, clenching involuntarily at the touch.

"Please, no, don't," Shen Mengyue begged, but her words were cut off as she felt the rim of a container press against her anus.

Lin Qiaoxin held a ceramic vial filled with a pungent golden liquid. She tipped it, and the liquid began to pour into Shen Mengyue's rectum. The ginger juice hit her intestinal walls like fire.

Shen Mengyue screamed.

The burning was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was as if her insides were being flayed alive, as if someone had poured molten metal into her bowels. She thrashed wildly, trying to escape, but Li Que's grip was like iron, and Lin Qiaoxin held the vial steady, emptying its entire contents into Shen Mengyue's body.

"Stop! Please, stop! It burns! It burns so much!" Shen Mengyue's screams echoed across the platform, but no one came to help her.

When the vial was empty, Lin Qiaoxin withdrew it, and an invisible force took hold of Shen Mengyue's body. She was lifted, turned, and placed into a familiar position—kneeling with her upper body pressed to the ground, her buttocks raised high in the air. The position she had been forced into on that terrible day when Xuan Fa had first spanked her.

The ginger juice churned inside her, and the burning intensified. Shen Mengyue sobbed, her body trembling, her anus clenching and unclenching as it tried to expel the burning liquid.

Then Xuan Fa was standing before her, holding two flat wooden planks. He handed one to Lin Qiaoxin and one to Li Que.

"Each time you strike her," he said, "she will say, 'Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for the spanking.' If she fails to speak the words, you will administer more ginger juice."

"Yes, master," the two women said in unison.

Lin Qiaoxin stepped to Shen Mengyue's left, Li Que to her right. They raised their planks.

The first strike came from Lin Qiaoxin, landing on Shen Mengyue's right buttock with a sharp crack that echoed across the empty platform. Shen Mengyue's body jolted, but the pain of the spanking was almost a relief compared to the burning in her intestines.

"Speak," Lin Qiaoxin said.

"Th-thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for the sp-spanking," Shen Mengyue choked out.

The second strike came from Li Que, landing on her left buttock. Shen Mengyue cried out but managed to repeat the words.

Strike after strike rained down on her raised buttocks. The wooden planks were harder than any paddle she had experienced before, and they left deep, burning welts across her flesh. Her buttocks, still sensitive from the week of suspension, quickly turned from pink to red to purple.

By the twentieth strike, Shen Mengyue was sobbing uncontrollably, her words coming out between gasps and cries. The ginger juice continued to burn in her bowels, and now the pain of her beating was combining with that internal fire into an agony that consumed her entire being.

By the thirtieth strike, she could barely form words. She forgot to say the phrase, and immediately Lin Qiaoxin was there with another vial of ginger juice, pouring it into her already burning anus. Shen Mengyue screamed until her voice broke, the fresh fire adding to the old.

"Thank you, Lord Xuan Fa, for the spanking!" she screamed out, desperate to avoid another dose.

The strikes continued. Forty. Fifty. Fifty-five. Fifty-six.

Shen Mengyue's buttocks were a ruin of bruises and welts, the skin broken in several places, blood mingling with sweat as it dripped down her thighs. The pain was so intense that she felt detached from her body, floating above herself, watching this woman being beaten and burned from a distance.

But the flesh could only take so much. Her body was not built for this kind of punishment, not like the cultivation-enhanced resilience of her tormentors. She felt her will crumbling, her pride shattering, her resistance dissolving into a desperate need for the pain to stop.

"Stop! Please, stop!" she begged, her voice raw and broken. "I'll do it! I'll become your female slave! Just please, make it stop!"

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and the two women lowered their planks. The silence that followed was louder than the sound of the strikes.

"Promise me," Shen Mengyue gasped, forcing the words out through her pain. "Promise me you will not harm the disciples of the Immortal Cloud Sect. Promise me you will protect the sect."

Xuan Fa's cold eyes met hers. "I so promise. No harm will come to the Immortal Cloud Sect or its disciples under my protection."

"And I—" Shen Mengyue's voice broke. "I will become your female slave."

"Then it is done."

Xuan Fa raised his hand, and a swirling portal of darkness opened behind him. The Xuan Heaven Realm beckoned, a void that promised no escape.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que each took one of Shen Mengyue's arms, helping her stand on shaking legs. The movement caused the ginger juice to shift inside her, and she whimpered at the fresh wave of burning. Together, the three women stepped through the portal.

The Xuan Heaven Realm was a world of darkness and shadow, lit by an ethereal light that had no source. The ground beneath their feet was smooth and dark, like polished obsidian reflecting a sky that held no stars.

Shen Mengyue felt something cold wrap around her neck, and she looked down to see a slave collar materializing around her throat. It was identical to the ones Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que wore—black iron with runes that pulsed with power. She reached up to touch it, and the metal was cold against her fingers.

"This is permanent," she whispered.

"Yes, moon slave," Xuan Fa said, appearing before her. "You are mine now, body and soul. But first, you have unfinished punishment."

Shen Mengyue looked at him, her eyes red from weeping. "What... what punishment?"

"You owe me two hundred strikes of the Heav

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One hundred years had passed since Xuan Fa established his dominion over the Xuan Heaven Realm. The vast hall, carved from white jade and veined with golden light, stretched endlessly under a sky that held no sun—only the cold, eternal glow of Heavenly Dao energy. In the center of that hall, a row of fair, plump buttocks was raised high, each pair belonging to a female cultivator who had once stood at the pinnacle of the cultivation world. There were about thirty of them, their bodies bare, their faces hidden as they knelt with their heads pressed to the cool stone floor. Behind each woman, two Heavenly Dao Planks floated silently, then swung forward with a sharp whistle to strike those tender, upturned buttocks. The smacks echoed through the hall in a rhythmic chorus: crack, crack, crack—each impact sending a jolt through the flesh, leaving reddening welts that slowly deepened to purple.

Among the kneeling women were sect leaders of minor sects, elders of major ones, genius rogue cultivators who had defied convention, and daughters of noble families who had never known a moment of hardship until now. They had all been exalted beings, commanding respect and fear from thousands of disciples. Xuan Fa had captured each one personally, defeating them in battle, tearing off their robes with a flick of his fingers, and spanking their bare buttocks with those same Heavenly Dao Planks until they wept and begged for mercy. And mercy came only when they agreed to become his female slaves, their wills broken, their bodies marked as his property.

Behind this row of raised buttocks, three naked, beautiful figures stood, their presence commanding the attention of every new slave before them. They were the instructors, the senior slaves, the ones who had been trained for a century under Xuan Fa's hand. Their bodies bore the evidence of that training: sleek muscles, flawless skin, and buttocks that were a deep, purplish-red—swollen and glistening from countless strikes, yet somehow still firm and shapely. They moved with a grace that came from absolute submission, their voices calm and authoritative as they addressed the front row.

"Raise your buttocks higher," said Lin Qiaoxin, her voice carrying a playful lilt despite the severity of her command. Her black hair was tied in twin ponytails, still youthful despite the century, and her slim figure was perfectly proportioned, her breasts small but pert, her waist narrow, her hips curved. She had been the first after Shen Mengyue, a rogue cultivator of immense talent, and she had long since accepted her role as Xuan Fa's Heart Slave. On her buttocks, the marks of the Heavenly Dao Planks were layered thick—a mosaic of purple, black, and deep red that covered every inch from the crease of her thighs to the small of her back. She reached out and tapped one of the new slaves on the hip. "You there, relax your muscles. If you clench, the planks hurt more. Trust me, I know."

Beside her, Li Que stood tall and athletic, her red hair tied in a high ponytail that fell past her shoulders. Her body was built for combat—muscles defined under her skin, broad shoulders, and strong thighs. Her breasts were firm, her stomach flat, and her buttocks, like Lin Qiaoxin's, were a swollen, purplish-red, though the marks on her ran in parallel stripes, evidence of the extra discipline she had received for her proud nature. "Do not whimper," she said, her voice clipped and authoritative. "Master does not tolerate weakness. You will learn to take the pain and ask for more." She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering as she watched the Heavenly Dao Planks continue their work.

Shen Mengyue stood at the center, her waist-length black hair cascading down her back, the strands brushing against her ravaged buttocks. She had once been the sect leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, a woman of dignity and power. Now she was Moon Slave, her body a canvas of Xuan Fa's punishment. Her skin was fair, almost luminous, with the purity of a young woman and the charm of a mature one. Her face, still beautiful, held a serene expression that belied the deep red covering her buttocks. The marks there were the darkest of the three, a testament to her status as the first slave. She had been stripped naked and spanked bare before the entire cultivation world a century ago, and the memory of that shame still lingered in her eyes, though she had long since learned to embrace it. "Sisters," she said softly, "remember your breathing. Inhale as the plank rises, exhale as it strikes. Let the pain flow through you, not against you."

The new slaves tried to follow the instructions, but their bodies betrayed their inexperience. Cries and sobs punctuated the steady rhythm of the spanking. One woman, a former elder of the Heavenly Star Sect, let out a sharp shriek as the plank caught a particularly sensitive spot. Lin Qiaoxin sighed and walked over, bending down to examine the woman's buttocks. "You have a bruise forming there," she said, tapping it gently. The woman flinched. "Don't worry, it will heal. Then it will bruise again. That's the way of things now."

Suddenly, the air in the hall shifted. The temperature dropped, and the light from the Heavenly Dao energy dimmed. The new slaves felt a wave of pressure wash over them, and even the Heavenly Dao Planks paused in their rhythm, hovering mid-swing. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue straightened instantly, their bodies moving with practiced precision. They dropped to their knees, lowered their heads until their foreheads touched the stone floor, and placed their hands flat on the ground. Then, in perfect unison, they raised their purplish-red, swollen buttocks high into the air, presenting them to the figure that had materialized at the edge of the hall.

Xuan Fa stood there, cloaked in black training clothes, his face cold and handsome, his eyes dark and unreadable. He did not move, did not speak, but his presence filled the hall like a storm about to break. The new slaves trembled, their spanking forgotten as they sensed the dominance radiating from him.

"Master," said Lin Qiaoxin, her voice steady but laced with the eager submission she had perfected over a century. "We were instructing the new sisters. They are learning the proper posture and endurance." She paused, then added, "Does Master wish to watch Heart Slave's punishment? I have been ready for discipline all day. Rest assured, I will endure to the end and not spoil Master's mood."

Li Que spoke next, her voice slightly strained from the position. "Que Slave echoes Heart Slave. The ginger juice is prepared, and my body is ready. I will not disappoint." She shifted her weight slightly, causing her swollen buttocks to jiggle, drawing Xuan Fa's gaze.

Shen Mengyue waited a beat, then said, "Moon Slave also offers herself. The Heavenly Dao Planks are always hungrier for my flesh. I will take every strike with gratitude."

Xuan Fa's lips twitched—a hint of satisfaction, though his expression remained stone. He stepped forward, his boots clicking on the stone, and walked slowly behind the three kneeling women. He let his gaze travel over their bodies: Lin Qiaoxin's slim, youthful frame, her small breasts pressed against the floor; Li Que's athletic build, the muscles of her back tensed; Shen Mengyue's perfect curves, her skin gleaming under the hall's light. His eyes lingered on their buttocks, the deep purplish-red that spoke of long-term punishment, the swelling that made them look almost obscenely plump.

"Proceed," he said, his voice low and cold.

The three women did not hesitate. With practiced motions, they reached behind themselves and spread their anuses apart, the muscles yielding to their fingers. Out of thin air, syringes appeared—glass tubes filled with a viscous, golden-brown liquid, the sharp scent of ginger rising from them. They pressed the syringes to their exposed openings and injected the ginger juice deep into their intestines. Lin Qiaoxin let out a soft gasp, her breath hitching as the burn spread through her insides. Li Que gritted her teeth, her jaw tight, but she did not flinch. Shen Mengyue closed her eyes, her lips parting as she welcomed the sting.

Once the syringes were empty, they withdrew them, and the syringes vanished. The women kept their positions, their anuses still spread slightly as they waited.

"Three hundred strikes each," Xuan Fa said. "Begin."

Six more Heavenly Dao Planks materialized in the air above them—three on the left, three on the right. They hovered for a moment, then swung down with tremendous force. The first strike caught Lin Qiaoxin's left buttock, the impact so sharp that her entire body lurched forward. A cry escaped her lips, half-pain, half-pleasure, the sound echoing off the walls. The second strike hit her right buttock, and she pressed her forehead harder against the floor, her fingers curling against the stone.

Li Que's spanking began with a crack that seemed louder than the others, the plank striking her with brutal precision. She grunted, her muscles tensing for a moment before she forced them to relax. The ginger juice was churning inside her, the heat spreading from her core to her skin, mixing with the sting of the planks.

Shen Mengyue's buttocks absorbed the blows with a soft, wet sound, the flesh already so tender that each strike sent a jolt of pain through her entire being. She did not cry out as loudly as the others, but her breaths came in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with the effort of holding still.

The Heavenly Dao Planks did not pause. They swung in alternating rhythms, left-right-left, the impacts coming faster and faster. The three women's buttocks jiggled and bounced with each strike, the purplish-red deepening to a dark, angry hue. Sweat beaded on their backs, and their fingers left damp marks on the stone floor as they gripped for balance.

Lin Qiaoxin's screams grew more erratic, her playful demeanor replaced by raw emotion. "Ah! Master—Master, it burns—" She bit her lip, trying to suppress the next cry, but it escaped anyway, a high-pitched moan as four planks struck her simultaneously. Behind her, the ginger juice made her insides feel like they were on fire, the heat intensifying with every spank.

Li Que's pride struggled against her body's submission. She clenched her fists, her knuckles white, and forced herself to stay still. But when a plank caught the crease between her buttocks and thigh, she let out a sharp yelp, her hips jerking forward. "F-fuck—" she whispered, then immediately regretted the curse, expecting a reprimand. But Xuan Fa only watched, his eyes cold and hungry.

Shen Mengyue had long since stopped fighting. She floated in a state of surrender, her mind blank except for the rhythm of the pain. Each strike was a reminder of her fall, of her new identity. She embraced it, letting the spanking wash over her like a ritual. Her buttocks were a mess of red, purple, and black, the skin splitting in tiny cracks that oozed blood and sweat.

After one hundred strikes, their buttocks were unrecognizable—swollen to nearly twice their normal size, the surface a patchwork of bruises and welts. After two hundred, they could barely keep their positions, their legs shaking, their arms threatening to give out. But they held on, their discipline forged by a century of punishment.

At two hundred and seventy, Lin Qiaoxin's body convulsed, and a trickle of ginger juice leaked from her anus. She gasped and clenched, forcing it back inside, but the damage was done. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood. "N-no—Master, I'm sorry—" she whimpered, but Xuan Fa did not respond.

Three hundred strikes concluded. The Heavenly Dao Planks vanished, leaving the air still. The three women remained kneeling, their bodies quivering, their buttocks a raw, inflamed mass of flesh. They did not move, did not speak, waiting.

After a long moment, Lin Qiaoxin lifted her head slightly. "Three hundred str

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of the Spanking Phoenix Sect. Disciples stood in neat rows below the main hall, their naked bodies glistening with morning dew, waiting in reverent silence. At the entrance of the hall, Xuan Fa stood with his hands clasped behind his back, black training clothes immaculate, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembled women.

Behind him, three figures crawled forward on hands and knees, dog leashes trailing from their necks to his grip. Lin Qiaoxin moved with an almost playful energy, her twin ponytails bouncing despite her submissive posture. Li Que followed with controlled tension, her red hair tied high, muscles rippling under her bare skin. Shen Mengyue brought up the rear, her long black hair brushing the stone floor as she crawled with grace that even degradation could not erase.

The disciples murmured among themselves. They had never seen the slave elders brought out like this, led by leashes as if they were animals.

Xuan Fa stopped at the center of the platform and raised his hand. Silence fell instantly.

“Heart Slave,” he announced, his voice carrying across the entire sect, “has taught formations to our disciples with exceptional skill. The sect’s defensive arrays have been strengthened tenfold under her guidance.”

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head up, a grin spreading across her face. She loved being praised, even if it came before punishment.

“Moon Slave,” Xuan Fa continued, “has managed the sect’s internal affairs flawlessly. Supplies are abundant, disputes are resolved, order is maintained.”

Shen Mengyue lowered her head slightly, accepting the acknowledgment with quiet dignity.

“Que Slave,” Xuan Fa said, his tone hardening slightly, “has defeated a challenger who dared to question our sect’s authority. The Heavenly Phoenix Sect’s leader now kneels before us in defeat.”

Li Que’s lips curled into a sneer. She glanced sideways at the figure forced to kneel beside them—Murong Ying, stripped naked like the others, her golden hair tangled, her face pale with rage and humiliation.

“For these merits,” Xuan Fa declared, “the three of you will receive a public spanking—the highest honor this sect bestows.”

The disciples gasped. Some exchanged looks of shock, others of curiosity. A public spanking was both punishment and reward, a sign that the slave elders had earned their master’s attention.

Lin Qiaoxin’s eyes lit up. “Oh! In front of everyone? Master is too generous!” She wiggled her hips eagerly.

Li Que said nothing, but a flicker of anticipation crossed her proud features. Shen Mengyue closed her eyes briefly, then nodded.

“Assume the position,” Xuan Fa ordered.

The three women lowered themselves further, chests touching the ground, buttocks raised high in the air. Their thighs parted slightly to present themselves fully. Slave collars caught the sunlight, gleaming silver against their skin. The collarbones, the curve of their spines, the pale moons of their upturned buttocks—all on display for the watching disciples.

Murong Ying struggled against the invisible restraints that held her kneeling. “You call this a sect?” she spat, her voice raw. “This is a den of depravity! You force women to crawl naked, to beg for beatings! And you call yourself a master?”

Xuan Fa ignored her. He gestured, and four Heavenly Dao Planks materialized in the air—smooth, dark wooden boards, each wider than a man’s hand, imbued with spiritual energy that hummed with power. They aligned themselves behind each of the four women.

“The one who dared challenge our sect, Murong Ying of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect,” Xuan Fa said coldly, “shall also receive punishment. Let this be a lesson to all who think they can defy the Spanking Phoenix Sect.”

“I will never submit to you!” Murong Ying shouted, trying to rise. But the invisible force held her down, forcing her into the same humiliating position—face down, buttocks up.

The first plank struck.

*CRACK!*

The sound echoed across the training grounds like thunder. Lin Qiaoxin’s body jolted forward, a sharp yelp escaping her lips. A vivid red handprint bloomed across her left buttock. She took a breath and giggled. “Ooh, that’s a good one! Master always knows just where to hit!”

Before she could say more, the second plank landed on her right cheek.

*WHAP!*

“Eep!” She squeaked, her legs trembling. “That stings! But in a nice way~” She turned her head to look at the disciples below. “Hey, you girls see that? This is how you get your master’s attention! Practice hard and maybe one day you’ll get spanked too!”

Li Que endured the first strike in silence. Her teeth clenched, jaw tight, but no sound escaped. On the second blow, a low grunt forced its way out. Her buttocks, firm and muscular, bounced with each hit, slowly turning from pale to pink to red.

Shen Mengyue took her punishment with quiet grace. The first plank made her gasp, the second made her whimper. Her fingers dug into the stone floor, knuckles white. Each strike sent waves of pain through her hips, but she held her position perfectly, not daring to lower herself.

Murong Ying screamed on the first strike—a full-throated cry of shock and pain that made some disciples flinch. Her bare buttocks were pale and unmarked before, but the Heavenly Dao Plank left a furious red stripe across both cheeks.

“You beast!” she snarled, twisting. “I’ll—AHH!” The second plank cut her off, landing precisely on the same spot. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop! I’m a sect leader! You can’t do this!”

The planks continued methodically, each strike measured, deliberate, agonizing. Xuan Fa stood with arms crossed, watching impassively. He counted in his head—each slave would receive thirty strikes. Murong Ying would receive fifty.

By the tenth strike, Lin Qiaoxin’s buttocks were a brilliant crimson. She was laughing and crying at the same time. “Master, Master! I think my butt is glowing!” She wiggled, earning another sharp crack. “Ow! Okay, not glowing, just very, very red. But it’s beautiful, isn’t it? A work of art!”

Li Que, at twelve strikes, finally let out a hiss. “Damn plank,” she muttered. She glanced at Murong Ying, who was sobbing openly now, her buttocks bleeding in several places. “You know,” Li Que said between hits, “if you’d just accepted the spanking instead of struggling, it wouldn’t hurt as much. The planks punish resistance.”

“I’m not like you!” Murong Ying wailed. “You’re all degenerates!”

“Maybe,” Li Que admitted, grunting as another plank landed. “But at least I know how to take a hit. Your butt is too soft. Not enough training.”

Shen Mengyue, at fifteen strikes, was panting heavily, sweat gleaming on her back. She raised her head slightly, her voice steady despite the pain. “Disciples,” she called out, “do not be afraid of the punishment you see here. This is a path of cultivation. To endure the master’s discipline is to strengthen the spirit. You too may one day earn this honor—to be spanked before the entire sect, to feel the master’s power and guidance.”

A few disciples in the front rows shifted nervously, but many nodded, their eyes shining with determination.

At twenty strikes, Lin Qiaoxin’s voice grew hoarse from yelling, but she still found energy to tease. “Hey, Murong! Your butt is really purple now! I think it matches your face! Wait, no, your face is red from crying. So that’s an interesting color combination!”

Murong Ying could only sob in response. The planks were relentless. Each strike sent shockwaves through her body. She had stopped cursing. She had stopped struggling. Now she just cried, begging in a broken voice. “Please… please stop… I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” Xuan Fa’s voice cut through the air.

“Yes! Anything! Just stop!”

Xuan Fa nodded to the planks. They paused, hovering. “You have learned humility. That will serve you well. But your punishment is not yet complete.”

Murong Ying collapsed, her forehead touching the ground, her body shaking with sobs.

Lin Qiaixin received the last few strikes with a grin plastered on her face, though her eyes were glassy with pain. When the final plank landed, she collapsed forward, then pushed herself up again, beaming. “Thank you for the spanking, Master! I’ll work even harder next time!”

Li Que rose to her knees, her buttocks a deep, even red. She nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Master.”

Shen Mengyue lifted herself gracefully, despite the tremors in her legs. “Your discipline is our honor.”

Xuan Fa turned to Murong Ying. “You have challenged this sect and lost. Your punishment is not over.”

He raised his hand, and from thin air materialized an anal hook—a curved metal device with a ring at the base, polished to a mirror shine. Murong Ying’s eyes widened in horror.

“No… no, please, anything else…”

Xuan Fa snapped his fingers, and the hook inserted itself deep into her rectum. She screamed, arching her back, but the hook held firm. A chain shot out from the ceiling of the main hall, connecting to the ring. With another gesture, the chain hauled Murong Ying upward, suspending her upside down by the hook, her body dangling like meat on a hook.

Her cries echoed across the sect as she swung gently in the morning breeze. Her naked, spanked buttocks turned purple and bleeding faced the disciples below.

“Let this be a warning,” Xuan Fa announced, his voice cold as steel. “The Spanking Phoenix Sect does not tolerate defiance. Those who submit will be rewarded. Those who resist will be broken.”

He turned and walked back into the hall, the three slave elders crawling behind him, their leashes trailing.

Lin Qiaoxin glanced back at the hanging Murong Ying and giggled. “See you around, new girl! Maybe if you behave, you’ll get a collar and a nice spanking instead of this!”

Li Que said nothing, but her tail swished with satisfaction.

Shen Mengyue kept her eyes forward, her body still aching from the punishment. She would heal. She always did.

Behind them, Murong Ying wept, her pride shattered, her body exposed, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of the Heavenly Dao Planks and the humiliation of the hook.

The disciples watched in stunned silence, then slowly began to disperse. The message was clear: serve well, and you might be punished like the elders. Fail, and you would hang like Murong Ying.

And somewhere in the back of the crowd, a few young female cultivators whispered to each other, their eyes fixed on the spanked buttocks of the elders, a strange longing flickering in their hearts.

The Spanking Phoenix Sect had grown steadily since its founding, its numbers swelling to a thousand disciples. Yet Xuan Fa knew this was but a fraction of what the sect could become. Too many female cultivators still clung to their pride, unwilling to surrender their dignity and their buttocks to the master's discipline. He would change that. A grand sect ceremony would announce to the cultivation world that the Spanking Phoenix Sect was not some passing whim but an eternal institution of power and punishment.

The ceremony grounds stretched across a vast plateau atop Floating Cloud Peak, the sect's main mountain. Thousands of jade lanterns floated overhead, casting a cold white light across the assembly. Banners embroidered with golden phoenixes bearing spanking planks in their talons fluttered in the wind. At the center stood a raised obsidian platform, its surface polished to a mirror shine.

The disciples arrived at dawn, stripping themselves naked as they entered the grounds. They arranged themselves in concentric circles at the periphery, their hands clasped behind their backs, their heads bowed. A thousand bare bodies stood in silent reverence, their buttocks all bearing the marks of past punishments—red stripes, fading bruises, the permanent reminder of their place.

Then came the slave elders. Fifty women crawled in on all fours, their bodies naked, their movements synchronized. They formed five rows in the middle of the platform, kneeling with their foreheads touching the cold stone, their buttocks raised high in the air. Each buttock was a canvas of discipline, crisscrossed with scars both old and new.

The crowd fell silent as Xuan Fa strode onto the platform, his black training clothes contrasting sharply with the naked bodies around him. In his hands, he held three leather dog leashes, each attached to a collar around the neck of a woman crawling behind him.

Lin Qiaoxin led the procession. Her twin ponytails bounced with each crawling step, her youthful face wearing a playful grin despite her position. Her well-proportioned body moved with practiced grace, her bare buttocks swaying as she crawled.

Behind her came Li Que, her tall athletic form tense with barely contained energy. Her red hair hung loose, brushing the ground as she moved. Her proud eyes stared straight ahead, accepting her place without shame.

Shen Mengyue crawled last, her waist-length black hair pooling on the ground before her. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the lantern light, the curves of her mature body drawing every eye. The former sect master of the Immortal Cloud Sect, now reduced to crawling naked on all fours, her buttocks bearing the most extensive collection of scars among them all.

Xuan Fa led them to the obsidian platform. The three women positioned themselves beside him, then knelt. Their movements were fluid, rehearsed through countless repetitions. They sat back on their heels, then leaned forward, pressing their foreheads to the stone. Their buttocks rose high, presenting themselves to the assembly.

"The Spanking Phoenix Sect ceremony begins," Xuan Fa announced, his voice carrying across the plateau without amplification. "Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, Shen Mengyue. Begin the ritual."

The three women rose to their knees, their faces still flushed with the heat of submission. Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice carrying a mischievous undertone despite the solemnity of the moment.

"Sisters of the Spanking Phoenix Sect," she began, "we gather today to honor the sacred instruments of our discipline." She gestured to the center of the platform, where five wooden planks stood arranged in a fan shape. These were the Heavenly Dao Planks, artifacts Xuan Fa had created specifically for the punishment of female cultivators. They glowed with inner light, etched with runes that amplified their sting.

Li Que continued, her voice flat and factual. "The Heavenly Dao Planks are not mere tools. They are the foundation of our sect. Through them, we learn humility. Through them, we shed the arrogance of our former selves. Through them, we serve the master with true devotion."

"We worship the planks," Shen Mengyue said, her voice soft but clear. "Not as wood, but as instruments of our transformation. Each strike that falls upon our buttocks is a blessing. Each bruise we bear is a testament to our submission."

The three women kowtowed to the planks, their foreheads touching the stone three times. The thousand disciples followed suit, a wave of bare bodies bowing in unison.

Then Shen Mengyue spoke again, addressing the assembly directly. "Let me remind you why our sect bears the name Spanking Phoenix. The phoenix is reborn from fire. We are reborn from the spanking plank. Every punishment burns away our pride, our stubbornness, our disobedience. When we rise from the plank, we rise anew, purified and devoted."

"You must learn," Lin Qiaoxin added, her playful tone replaced by something more serious, "that the duty of a female slave is to accept all humiliation and punishment from the master. No matter how shameful the position, no matter how painful the strike, you must endure. You must embrace. You must learn to love the pain, for it is the master's attention, and attention is the foundation of devotion."

"When you greet the master," Li Que said, "you will crawl on all fours. You will not rise without his permission. When you present yourself for greeting, you will kneel and raise your scarred buttocks high. This is the position of honor. This is how you show your submission."

The three women then shared cultivation insights with the disciples. They spoke of techniques for channeling Qi through the punished flesh, turning pain into power. They explained how accepting strikes with proper posture and mental focus could accelerate cultivation, the body's natural healing responses supercharged by the clash between pain and Qi.

"A spanked buttock is not a weakness," Shen Mengyue said. "It is a wellspring of cultivation potential. Every strike forces your Qi to adapt, to strengthen, to rebuild. The more you accept without resistance, the more you grow."

"When you receive punishment," Lin Qiaoxin added with a wink, "don't clench. Relax. Let your buttocks be soft and yielding. The plank hurts less when you're not fighting it. And the master appreciates a compliant target."

Li Que snorted. "And don't cry too loud. Crying is fine. Screaming is expected. But keep it controlled. The master prefers when we maintain some dignity in our suffering."

Xuan Fa stepped forward. The disciples held their breath. He raised his hand, and a cascade of jade bottles fell from the sky, landing before each disciple. "Cultivation pills," he announced. "One bottle each. Take them daily to strengthen your foundation."

Then he gestured, and a selection of magical artifacts appeared on the platform—flying swords, defensive talismans, spirit-gathering pendants. "The ten most disciplined disciples of the past month shall receive these as rewards."

Ten women crawled forward, their buttocks raised high as they kowtowed their thanks. Xuan Fa distributed the artifacts personally, his hand lingering on each woman's head in a gesture that could be seen as either approval or warning.

"Now," Xuan Fa said, "the five exceptional candidates who applied for slave elder status. Step forward."

Five women emerged from the periphery, their bodies also naked, their faces a mixture of eagerness and terror. They were of varying ages and builds, but each possessed a cultivation level that marked them as elite among their peers.

"You have been chosen," Xuan Fa said, "because you showed promise. Because your dedication to the sect's principles was genuine. But understand this: becoming a slave elder means your buttocks are no longer your own. They belong to me, to be punished whenever I see fit. You will be spanked in front of the entire sect. You will be spanked in private. You will be spanked until your screams echo through the mountains, and you will thank me for every strike."

"Yes, master," the five women said in unison, their voices shaking.

Xuan Fa produced five slave collars, black leather bands etched with suppression runes. He fastened one around each woman's neck. The collars tightened, becoming permanent fixtures. The five new slave elders immediately dropped to all fours, crawling to join the other forty-five, arranging themselves in the rows.

Fifty women now knelt in five rows of ten. Their buttocks formed a landscape of flesh, each pair raised high, each woman trembling in anticipation.

Xuan Fa raised his hand again. The five Heavenly Dao Planks on the central stand rose into the air, multiplying in number. Five planks became ten. Ten became fifty. A swarm of glowing planks hovered above the kneeling slave elders.

"Two hundred strikes each," Xuan Fa announced. "Endure without dodging. Those who fail will receive double."

The planks descended.

The sound was deafening. Fifty planks striking fifty buttocks simultaneously, a thunderclap that echoed across the plateau. The fifty women screamed, a collective cry of pain that rose into the morning sky. Their bodies jerked, but none moved from position. Their buttocks bounced with each impact, the flesh rippling, red marks appearing instantly.

The planks did not pause. Strike after strike, they fell in rhythm. Left cheek, right cheek, a steady beat of discipline. The women's screams became sobs, their cries a symphony of submission. Tears streamed down faces. Snot ran from noses. Some bit their lips bloody to keep from crying out too loudly, but the planks were relentless.

Count five. A hundred strikes. The buttocks of the fifty women were now deep crimson, swollen to twice their normal size. The women's legs shook, their arms trembling from the effort of holding their positions. But they did not dodge. They did not try to rise. They accepted each strike as the blessing they had been taught it was.

Count nine. Two hundred strikes. The planks stopped, hovering motionless above the women's ruined buttocks. The slave elders collapsed forward, sobbing into the stone, their bodies wracked with aftershocks of pain. Their buttocks were a mess of red and purple, some with small cuts where the force had split the skin.

Xuan Fa nodded his approval. "Rise. Clean yourselves. Prepare for the final ceremony."

The fifty women crawled away, some needing assistance from their sisters. They retreated to the sides, where healing salves were applied, where water was brought to soothe their parched throats.

Now only three women remained on the platform. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue.

They knelt before Xuan Fa, their bodies still naked, their buttocks the only unscathed flesh in the entire ceremonial grounds. They kowtowed once, their foreheads pressing to the stone, a gesture of profound respect.

Then they straightened their backs, positioned their knees, and raised their buttocks high. The three pairs of buttocks, each unique in shape and size, presented themselves for the most severe punishment of the day.

Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks were round and compact, the buttocks of a youthful woman still carrying some baby fat. They bounced slightly as she held the position, her playful nature manifesting even in her posture.

Li Que's buttocks were lean and muscular, the buttocks of an athlete, with firm curves and defined lines. They held steady, betraying no tremor, reflecting her iron will.

Shen Mengyue's buttocks were full and womanly, the buttocks of a mature woman in her prime. They were soft to the touch, yet firm in their shape, a perfect balance of flesh and form. The largest of the three.

"Five hundred strikes," Xuan Fa announced. "Each strike with full force. You will count. You will thank me for each strike."

"Yes, master," the three women said.

The Heavenly Dao Planks gathered above them, three planks hovering menacingly. They glowed brighter than before, their runes blazi

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The main hall of the Immortal Cloud Sect stood silent under the grey sky. Xuan Fa stood at the top of the white jade steps, his black training clothes undisturbed by the mountain wind. His cold gaze swept across the kneeling disciples below, their white and black Daoist robes trembling.

"You have all witnessed the result," he said, his voice flat and absolute. "Your sect leader has fallen. By the laws of conquest, this sect and all within it belong to me."

Sobs broke out among the disciples. Some clutched each other's arms. Others pressed their foreheads to the cold stone floor.

Xuan Fa raised one finger. The weeping stopped instantly.

"Every female cultivator of the Immortal Cloud Sect will receive punishment," he continued. "One hundred strikes of the Xuan Wood Plank upon your bare buttocks. This will be carried out in batches, here, at this very hall, starting tomorrow."

A wave of terrified gasps swept through the crowd. The younger disciples, some barely past fifteen, broke into open crying. Even the elders, women who had cultivated for centuries, paled and shook.

Shen Mengyue's heart twisted at the sound. She pushed herself up from where she lay on the stone floor, blood still trickling from the corner of her mouth from the earlier battle. Her sword lay shattered in three pieces beside her.

"Lord Xuan Fa." Her voice emerged hoarse but clear. She crawled forward on her knees, her white robes dragging through dust and blood. "Please, I beg you."

Xuan Fa's eyes slid down to her. No emotion showed on his handsome face.

She reached the bottom of the steps and pressed her forehead to the ground. "Discipline only me. I am the sect leader. The fault is mine alone. The disciples only followed my orders."

"Stand up and say that."

She rose to her knees but kept her head bowed. "I take full responsibility for resisting you. Punish me and spare them. I will accept any penalty you name."

Xuan Fa descended three steps, bringing himself closer to her level. "Any penalty?"

"Yes."

He tilted his head, studying her. A long silence stretched through the hall. The disciples held their breath, not daring to move.

Then Xuan Fa smiled. It was a thin, cold thing that did not reach his eyes.

"Then you alone will receive the Heavenly Dao Plank," he said. "Two hundred strikes per day. One hundred in the morning, one hundred in the evening. Here, in front of your disciples, at the entrance of this hall."

Shen Mengyue's blood turned to ice.

"The punishment will continue for thirty years."

Her hands, still pressed to the floor, began to tremble. Thirty years. Seven thousand, two hundred strikes of the highest grade punishment plank. A tool that could crack the bones of an ordinary cultivator with a single blow.

For cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage, the body would heal by the next day. The bones would mend. The flesh would knit. But the pain—the pain was absolute.

She looked up and saw Xuan Fa watching her, waiting. He already knew her answer.

"I accept," she whispered.

Xuan Fa raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The sound wasn't loud, but it struck Shen Mengyue like a physical force. Her robe shredded from her body, the fabric dissolving into threads that scattered in the wind. Her undergarments followed, falling away like autumn leaves.

She was naked before everyone.

The cold air hit her skin. She didn't dare move to cover herself. Her waist-length black hair fell around her shoulders and back, providing only the barest veil over her breasts. Her skin was pale as moonlight, smooth and unblemished. The curve of her waist tapered down to her hips, full and womanly. Between her legs, dark hair curled against the fair skin of her sex. Her buttocks, round and firm, tensed under the weight of a hundred stares.

Sobs came from the disciples. Some covered their eyes. Others stared in shock at their sect leader's exposed body.

"You will wear no clothes from this day forward," Xuan Fa said. "You have no right to cover yourself in my presence or before your sect."

Shen Mengyue closed her eyes. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she made no sound.

Xuan Fa made a gesture with two fingers, drawing a short arc through the air. Shen Mengyue's body moved without her consent. Her upper body bent forward until her chest and face pressed against the stone floor. Her knees remained planted, her buttocks rising high behind her. The position forced her legs apart slightly, exposing everything.

"Prostrate," Xuan Fa said. "This is the proper posture for those awaiting punishment in my domain."

From the air above the hall, two planks materialized. Each was as long as a man's arm and as wide as two palms. The wood was dark grey, almost black, with veins of silver light running through it. The Heavenly Dao Plank. A tool forged from the petrified branches of the world-tree, imbued with heavenly judgment. It could not be blocked by spiritual power or deflected by cultivation.

The first plank rose high, then fell.

The crack echoed across the mountain.

Shen Mengyue's body jerked forward, a sharp cry escaping her throat. A vivid red mark appeared on her right buttock.

"This is the first," Xuan Fa said.

The second plank rose. It struck lower, catching the tender flesh where her buttock met her thigh. She gasped, her fingers scraping against the stone.

Standing, the first plank rose again.

Crack. Her left buttock took the blow, the skin splitting along the impact line. A thin trickle of blood ran down her leg.

Crack. The right side again, overlapping the previous mark.

Shen Mengyue bit her lip until she tasted copper, forcing herself not to scream. Her body shook with each hit, her breasts pressing and sliding against the cold floor. Her hair had fallen across her face, and she could taste dust and blood on her tongue.

The disciples watched in frozen horror. Some had stopped crying, too shocked to weep. One of the younger cultivators, a girl of seventeen, fainted dead away.

Xuan Fa stood at the top of the steps, his hands clasped behind his back, watching each stroke with the focused attention of a scholar reading a text.

"Count," he said.

"What?" Shen Mengyue managed through gritted teeth.

"Count each stroke aloud. If you miss a count, the stroke will be repeated and added to the total."

The plank fell again. Her back arched, and a sound that was half-sob, half-scream tore from her throat.

"Five," she gasped.

"Correct. Continue."

Crack. "Six."

Crack. "Seven."

The planks alternated without pause, striking in perfect rhythm. By the twentieth stroke, her buttocks had swollen to nearly twice their normal size. The skin had broken in a dozen places, and blood smeared across her thighs and dripped onto the stone floor beneath her.

By the fiftieth stroke, she could no longer keep her upper body pressed to the ground. Her elbows gave out, then her arms. She lay flat on her stomach, her hips raised by an invisible force, still receiving blow after blow.

"Sixty-seven," she whispered.

"Louder."

"Sixty-seven!" she shouted, and the plank cut off her voice with another strike.

At the seventy-eighth stroke, her voice broke entirely. She could only mouth the numbers, tears and saliva pooling on the stone beneath her face.

"Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty."

Xuan Fa descended the steps and walked around her. He stopped beside her raised hips, examining the damage. The flesh of her buttocks had gone from red to purple to black in some places. Blood ran freely, pooling in the hollow of her lower back before dripping down.

"Adequate," he said. "You have one hundred and twelve remaining for tonight. We will continue after a brief rest."

He snapped his fingers, and the planks vanished. The force holding her in position released. She collapsed fully to the ground, her entire body shaking, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

Shen Mengyue lay naked and broken on the floor of her own sect hall, surrounded by the weeping, terrified women she had sworn to protect. The stones beneath her were cold, and the taste of blood filled her mouth.

Above her, Xuan Fa turned and walked back toward the rear chambers of the hall.

"Recover quickly," he said without looking back. "The second half begins at midnight."