Morning light stabbed Maya’s eyes. She flinched. Cold stone pressed against her cheekbone. She was naked, knees folded beneath her on frigid cobblestones. Rough hemp ropes bound her wrists behind her back, looping tight around her waist and ankles, pinning her upright against the thick oak punishment pole. Dew dripped from the pole’s iron rings onto her scalp. Her skin felt raw but clean—no blood, no milk, just the sting of scrubbed flesh and the deep ache of piercings. The Virgin Stick tattoo pulsed under her hipbone. Mistress Elara’s voice cut through the courtyard chatter: "Awake, Seven-Seven-Eight? Good. The morning bell rings soon."

A heavy iron collar—spiked inside—clicked around Maya’s neck. Chains rattled as Elara secured it to the pole above her head. She felt metal teeth bite into her throat with every swallow. Elara circled slowly, tapping Maya’s branded hip with a bamboo cane. "Yesterday’s failure was spectacular. Collapsing during Master Theo’s discipline?" She chuckled. "Unacceptable." The cane cracked across Maya’s thighs. Fire bloomed beneath the skin. "Today, we rebuild endurance. One hour. For every hour you failed." Elara shoved a leather gag between Maya’s teeth—salty, stiff. "Silence, slut. Breathe through the pain."