Same scene from Athena's prospective

That was all Athena could perceive now. The soft, ambient glow of Morgan’s chamber had vanished, leaving her sightless and ****. Her ears, so attuned to the faintest sounds of danger, now betrayed her with silence. Even the air, which she knew should carry a hint of the incense Morgan had burned, offered no clue of its presence.

All that remained was touch. And it was unbearable.

The ropes binding her limbs were impossibly tight, pulling her into an X-shaped stretch that left her divine form exposed and helpless. Her body, honed from millennia of discipline and battle, now betrayed her with its heightened sensitivity. Every inch of her alabaster skin felt aflame, as though it anticipated something—anything—to fill the void left by her other missing senses.

A sudden, featherlight touch ran down her stomach, and her body jerked involuntarily. Damn her, Athena thought, gritting her teeth. The sensation was maddening, a whisper of contact that lit her nerves on fire. She strained against her restraints, but the enchanted ropes didn’t budge.

Morgan was speaking; Athena could feel the vibrations of her breath against her neck, but the words were lost in the abyss of her deafened world. The smugness of her tone, however, was unmistakable. Athena bit back a growl, refusing to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Then it began.

The first strike of the whip seared across her thigh like a flash of lightning. Athena gasped, her chest arching reflexively. The sting burned hot, but her body couldn’t process it properly. Pain or pleasure—it didn’t matter anymore. The absence of her other senses amplified everything, turning even the slightest sensation into an overwhelming storm.

Another crack, this time against her stomach. Her muscles clenched instinctively, the taut lines of her abdomen flexing under the blow. Her back arched, her gravity-defying breasts thrust forward as though seeking air. The cold brushed against her nipples, and they hardened involuntarily, betraying her body's confusion.

I am a goddess, she reminded herself desperately. I’ve endured worse than this.

But had she?

The strikes came faster now, alternating between the whip and the cane. The whip left sharp trails of fire across her skin, while the cane’s blunt strikes sent jolts of deep, aching sensation through her. Each hit seemed to echo through her body, reverberating in places she hadn’t realized could feel so intensely.

Her thighs trembled as the cane snapped against them, the taut flesh jiggling slightly under the impact. The next strike landed across the curve of her buttocks, and she gasped again, her heart-shaped rear stinging from the blow. Her mind screamed in protest, but her body… her body quivered, caught in the unbearable maelstrom of sensation.

I will not yield, she thought fiercely, though her body betrayed her with every involuntary shudder and twitch. Her alabaster skin, normally flawless and unmarked, now bore the faint red trails of Morgan’s work.

Athena felt the cane’s tip trace a slow line up her side, leaving a ghostly trail of anticipation. It stopped just beneath her breast, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then—snap! The cane flicked sharply against her nipple, and Athena’s back arched involuntarily, her lips parting in a silent gasp.

The sensation was maddening. Every nerve in her body was alive, screaming for relief she couldn’t name. She twisted in her restraints, her muscles flexing and rippling beneath her smooth, glistening skin. But there was no escape.

Morgan’s hands were on her now, tracing the marks left by the whip and cane as though admiring her handiwork. Athena flinched at the touch, her skin hyper-aware of every brush of Morgan’s fingertips. She felt them linger on the curve of her hips, the smoothness of her thighs, the fullness of her breasts.

Is this what she wanted? To make me a plaything?

Athena’s teeth clenched, her jaw tight as she fought to suppress her reactions. But her body refused to obey. The torment was too much. Without her other senses, she couldn’t prepare, couldn’t anticipate. Every strike, every touch, every brush of air against her skin was a surprise that sent her reeling.

Time lost meaning. She didn’t know how long Morgan continued her sadistic game. The strikes blurred together, and her body burned with the aftershocks of sensation. Her chest heaved, her G-cup breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her legs trembled, her thick thighs and luscious rear aching from the unrelenting onslaught.

And yet, through it all, she refused to break.

I am Athena, she thought again, clinging to the words like a lifeline. I will endure.

But as Morgan’s whip cracked again, leaving another fiery trail across her skin, Athena wasn’t so sure anymore.