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Chapter Text

“A girl did not do as she was told,” Jaqen H'ghar said.  “A girl needs to be punished.”

“But I had to help him,” Arya pleaded.  “They were bullying him. They were hurting him.”

“And does a girl like a boy?”

“He’s been nice to me, and I can’t see someone being picked on.” They were stood in the main hall of the House of Black and White. A withered old man in a raggedy grey cloak was by the pool drinking the water. He was dying. Jaqen had been stood next to him facing the black and white doors as though expecting Arya. His stern and disappointed gaze had fallen on the young apprentice as soon as she’d stepped into the hall.

“A girl was supposed to sell and observe,” Jaqen had his arms folded into the sleeves of his brown robe. “Not spend time with boys.”

The Waif moved beside him after resting the old man’s body on the cold stone floor.

“He was helping me find customers. Getting information.” It wasn’t a total lie. Alf worked on the docks doing odd jobs. He’d been hanging around as Arya picked up her stock of seafood from the merchant on the seafront and headed into the markets. Alf sometimes found her decent customers and Arya had allowed him to prattle on about the people he knew. After all, wasn’t it information they needed?

Despite his rough appearance and tatty clothes, Arya couldn’t help liking Alf. Sparkling blue eyes and a cheeky grin meant he managed to get on with most people.

“And I observed them bullying the boy,” Arya said.

“A girl was told what she should do.  A girl did not sell all her goods and did not observe all that went on today.”

“I had to do something,” Arya was exasperated. For the last month, she'd dutifully gone to get the barrow of fresh seafood from the morning fishing runs to sell. Each day she’d sold it all, listening as much as she could to the conversations of various merchants and bankers before returning and relaying all she remembered to Jaqen.

Arya wanted to do something more useful. The rest of her days were mainly spent cleaning and doing stupid jobs that just made her tired but didn't feel like she was doing any real training. She was sure all the lessons from Syrio were fading and being forgotten despite her best efforts.

When she’d seen the three teen boys drag Alf round the back of a merchant stall, she knew he was in trouble. While to most he was a lovable rogue, the lad had light fingers which often found themselves obtaining objects they shouldn’t. Most of it was food to keep him alive, but there was the odd occasion handfuls of silver found their way onto his person.

Silver the bullies knew he had and were after.

Grabbing her stick, Arya had laid into them. The element of surprise allowing her to get stinging blows against all three in a whirlwind of action before they could react. They scattered into the market place without offering any resistance in the face of the assault, but there were shouts of them being back to get them both.

Bending down Arya had tended to Alf, who was rubbing the tears from his eyes. He was a slight lad, more accustomed to running and sneaking about than facing folk down. She’d got him some water and tended to his bruised face. He’d been grateful, and it had felt good to use her skills at last.

Only when she returned to her barrow of goods it was gone, and she realised how stupid she'd been to leave it unattended. Arya hadn't meant to be so long and suspected the bastard bullies had stolen it out of spite. Alf helped her scour the streets, limping beside her as they searched. And though they looked down at the dock, she had to be careful. The merchant she picked up and returned the barrow to every day was stood outside his wooden hut looking for her.

Eventually, Arya walked back to the House of Black and White trying to come up with an excuse as to why she didn't have the barrow and its goods anymore. But when under the glare of Jaqen H'ghar there was only the truth.

“The girl does as she is told, or a girl is punished.”

“So I should just let bastards get on with torturing poor boys?” Arya stamped her foot. She knew it was a mistake to show such dissent, but she was frustrated.  “Surely we should help people?”

“A girl will learn when to help and when not to. A girl did not do as she was told.”

“I've told you I am sorry about the barrow.”

Jaqen moved his arms behind his back, his face impassive as he looked upon her. Next to him, the Waif expression showed a look of delight at Arya’s plight. She tapped her long thing stick against her cloth trousers.

“A girl will learn. A girl will be punished.” Jaqen strode through the main chamber before descending the stone steps and passing through the cleansing room. Another flight of grey dank stairs allowed them access to the training hall. The Waif remained by his side, her own arms now clasped behind her back. Arya found herself scurrying after them knowing she didn't really have a choice.

Entering the training chamber, Arya noted what looked like a wooden rack with bars going across it covering one of the walls. It looked like an aid to practise climbing skills. There was a raised wooden platform all three walked around. They reached the wooden bars.

“A girl used to stick on the boys. A stick will be used on a girl.” Jaqen stood by the edge of the wooden training platform.

“They deserved it,” Arya mumbled.

“It is not up to a girl to decide justice. That is for the Many Face God to command.”

The Waif grabbed the back of Arya's shirt and pushed her towards the bars. Arya almost tripped as her feet bumped wooden slats which were sticking out of the ground. Stumbling, she frowned while examining them and failed to see their purpose.

She was turned to face the wooden bars.

“Trousers down,” the Waif commanded.

Arya went to look around and complain to Jaqen. The Waif walloped her stick against the back of Arya's legs.

“Trousers down,” the Waif repeated

Grimacing with the shock of the blow, Arya pulled at the belt holding up her cloth breeches until she was able to push the trousers down her thighs. The Waif held out her free hand, and Arya stepped out of the breeches before handing them over. They were flung into the corner.

“And these,” the Waif used her stick to poke at Arya’s small clothes.

The young apprentice went to turn her head again, and straightaway the stick was on the back of her legs in a stinging blow on the now naked skin.

“I was trying to help.” Arya pleaded as she rubbed the back of her thighs.

“A girl will get ten more strokes for disobedience.”

“That isn’t fair,” Arya protested. Though she regretted her words almost straight away.

“A girl will get twenty more strokes.”

“Small clothes now,”  the Waif demanded.

Not wanting to risk further punishment Arya complied, pushing her small clothes down her firm legs before once again handing them to the Waif. She was thankful the rough brown shirt dropped to below her Waif.

After the Waif tossed Arya’s small clothes into the corner, she stepped forward and pointed at two spaces on the floor with her stick.

“Feet,” she ordered, and Arya placed her bare feet where the Waif had indicated. They were behind one of the long slats spread apart as they were held in place by other pieces of strategically positioned wood.

“Now hold onto bars,” the Waif tapped the wooden frame in front of Arya. It was fairly obvious she was expected to do this without moving her feet. Leaning forward Arya found herself almost falling before grabbing onto the rough bars in front of her. The vigour of the movement forced her feet to step beyond the slats she was supposed to be behind.

“Five more strokes,” Jaqen announced.

Arya scrambled back into position. The only way she could get her feet behind the wood and hold onto the bars was on her tiptoes, and arms stretched forward as far as they could reach

The Waif tapped the bar below.

Arya managed to drop her hands down to the next wooden bar. She groaned with the strained.

“Straight legs,” the Waif touched the back of Arya’s knees as the young apprentice was nearly in the squat position. She forced herself to push upwards, once again feeling the strain her shoulders and arms.

The Waif reached behind Arya and grabbing the hem of her shirt, rolling it up her back before pushing it inside the collar and twisting it around to hold it in place. As the cold chill brushed against her thighs and bottom, Arya felt totally exposed on her toes and bottom thrust into the air. Her legs being spread the way they were Arya knew Jaqen would be able to see everything.

The Waif then grabbed the front part of Arya’s top that was hanging down and hauled it up above her bare breasts. Once again it was folded over the collar and fixed into place.  Every private part of Arya’s body was visible.

“This is so unfair.” Arya took one hand off the bars in an effort to haul her shirt back down to at least cover her breasts.

“A girl will get twenty more strokes,” Jaqen said. “If she speaks again, it will be fifty more.”

Arya replaced her hands and ground her teeth while the Waif fixed her top.

“For not doing as a girl was ordered, the punishment was twenty strokes. Fifty-five strokes have been added for a girl’s disobedience. A girl will remain in position while all strokes are delivered. If a girl's hands or feet move the stroke will not count.”

Arya saw the Waif step up beside her and begin swishing her stick through the air. It would have been bad enough if Jaqen had been delivering the punishment, but the Waif made it even more humiliating. Plus Arya suspected the girl would put some real venom into her blows.

Arya opened a mouth and was about to complain when she saw an almost daring look on the Waif’s face and realised it was only likely to cost her more strokes.

She felt the stick touch the centre of her bare bottom as it rolled up and down. The Waif measured her target.

She cruelly carried out a few practice strokes, where the blow stopped short of Arya skin before the Waif then pushed the thin wood against Arya's bottom. The young apprentice flinched, even though no pain had been inflicted.  Each time she was convinced it was going to be a genuine stroke.

Then she heard the stick swoosh through the air.

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Arya felt a sharp pain spread across the centre of her buttocks. Just as she was coming to terms with it and the intense burn that followed made her think she'd been scalded by branding iron. A second whoosh and second agonising line slashed across her bare buttocks.

Arya gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the bars in front of her as the third and fourth strikes whacked different parts of her bottom. The Waif expertly targeting her flash and avoiding striking the same area twice. After ten strokes, it felt like every area of her bottom was on fire. Her legs were wobbling, and it took all her self control to keep on her toes and avoid crying out.

“A girl will now count the blows.”

The Waif struck the lower half of her bare arse cheeks. Arya took a breath and counted out loud. It was as though Jaqen knew she was gritting her teeth to avoid calling out or showing any sign of weakness. The strokes kept coming. The Waif carefully lining her up each time before delivering the stinging blows to her naked flesh. One after another working away down Arya's buttocks and onto the to her sit spots, before targeting each thigh separately in strikes that seem to hurt even more than on the buttocks.

“Fifty.” Gasped  Arya. She was barely able to get the words out, and fighting the desire to haul herself away from the pain to rub the burning sensation searing her buttocks and thighs.

“A girl will consider her punishment. What has a girl learnt.”

“To do as I am told,” Arya squeaked.

“And if a girl sees injustice, what is a girl to do?”

“A girl will ignore and do as she is told.” Arya sucked in through her teeth as it felt as if parts of her body were on fire.

“A girl will maintain her position.”

The Waif vanished from Arya’s peripheral vision. She could hear the footsteps of two people walking away, and she knew they’d left the room. Left her struggling to maintain her exposed stance. Visions of cool buckets of water she could sink a backside into sprung to mind, and she attempted to use it to calm the heat of a body. But the moment she seemed to get calm anger grew at the injustice of the punishment. After all, she was trying to do the right thing, and it made her she question what Many faced God was really going to want with her. Was she never going to be able to act on her own conscience?

Each time she allowed the anger to consume her Arya’s bottom and thighs seem to grow hotter, and the aching in her feet and shoulders grew more unbearable. Her body would begin to shake until she gained once more

There was the sound of many footsteps entering the room behind her and jumping onto the wooden platform. Arya realised it was a training class. She heard Jaqen's voice commanding them, and the small group began to go through some warm-up routines. Her presence was never mention, and Arya continued to be bent over her naked arse on full display to the group.  The seeming indifference Jaqen was showing toward her filled Arya with hate.

There was a moment when one of the group must have been staring at her, and he was punished for not paying attention with rapid exercises. It was also if it was part of the training. The group were not allowed to ogle the naked arse on display.

For some reason, it made her feel even more indignant.  Arya allowed the shaking to take control of her body, and she tumbled to the floor.

Landing painfully on her back, Arya immediately felt a stinging sensation across her bare breasts. Looking up, she saw the Waif was stood over her. She was sporting a wicked grin as she rose the stick once more. Arya lacked the strength to resist and felt another stroke across a chest. She scrambled backwards and climbed back into position. Only then did the blows stop.

Jaqen never altered his training or anything as Arya forced self back into position. If the Waif was still there, she didn't make herself known. Every part of Arya's body was roaring with pain and fatigue as she once again tried to control emotions of anger and injustice.

With the humiliation of so many people seeing her naked in a punishment position, Arya’s legs gave way again. This time she managed to drop to her knees as the Waif was there again striking across her back. Targetting areas not already reddened and bruised by previous strikes.

“Stop, please stop.”  Arya was on her knees, and down on her elbows, all control lost. She just wanted the agony and humiliation to end. But the Waif didn't relent as strokes rained down on Arya’s skinny frame. When she pushed out a hand to try and block the blows, the Waif mercilessly would strike her palms or knuckles until they too were covered in red wheels.

Finally, Arya was able to get herself back in position. Sobbing as pain coursed across her body but at least the blows had stopped.

“Is a girl learning her lesson.” Arya hadn’t noticed when the class had filed out, and Jaqen had stepped up to her side.

“Yes,” Arya sobbed. “I’ve learnt my lesson.”

“Then a girl needs to work.”

Jaqen nodded to the waif who leant forward and roughly pulled Arya to her feet.

“A girl fetch two buckets and a scrubbing brush.”

Before Arya went to carry out the instructions, she reached up to free her shirt. Immediately the Waif was upon her striking her across the bottom with the stick she still carried. Her strike hit already burning welts causing the maximum pain that forced Arya to dance onto her toes and clutch her sore bottom with both hands.

“Can I not cover myself?” While Arya had stopped sobbing the voice still choked as she tried to regain her composure. She still hopped from foot to foot as though trying to shake off the stinging pain.

“A girl had no need to be modest.”  Jaqen simply said, and reluctantly Arya went to retrieve the buckets and brush as it appeared her punishment and humiliation were far from over.

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“A girl needs to clean the floors.” Jaqen pointed to the raised wooden platform where the training had just taken place. Arya saw a few spots of blood where some of the practice had been a little too vigorous.

“Then a girl can clean the floors of the main chamber. A girl will get the water from the bay outside. Two buckets at a time filled right to the top. No spilling. A girl will step down into the water using the stairs until it is up to here.” Jaqen pressed his fingers against her neck.

“If I go out like this, people will see me.”  Arya indicated how she was effectively nude with her shirt rolled up so high everything was exposed. It was bad enough giving some of the other apprentices a show, but cleaning the chamber and going outside would display her body to every visitor.

“A girl is embarrassed? A girl has something to hide?”

“It’s just not right,” Arya said.

“A girl will shed her pride as a girl will shed her attachment to clothes. A girl will learn cold and pain and work.”

With those words, Jaqen turned and strode away as a new complaint formed on Arya's lips. She swallowed it back realising there was no point, and especially as the Waif was now hovering with a look on a face which told Arya she would be more than happy to deliver another canning.

Arya headed up the stairs to the main hall where she would have to pass through and out of the black-and-white doors to gain access to the bay. Arya was relieved there was nobody else in the hall, but she found herself hesitating at the doors. While there weren’t usually many people on the island the house of Black-and-White was built on, people sometimes visited and no doubt some keen-eyed spectator from one of the other islands would be able to make out the naked girl.

“Of course, you could just leave,” the Waif said making Arya jump. She glanced around and gave her tormenter an angry glare.  She noticed she was no longer carry her stick, but held a wooden handle attached to a length of thin leather.

“What do you mean?” Arya asked.

“You could go and get your clothes and walk away from here right now. You don't belong here anyway. Ladies of royal families belong in their castles.”

Only the words of the Hound came to Arya at that moment. “Fuck you.”

Arya pushed open the doors. Stepping outside into the crisp fresh air, she held the buckets in either hand knowing it meant her naked body was totally exposed to anybody who might come by. Arya held her head up high, not wishing to show any embarrassment or that she was affected by her nudity in front of the Waif.

It was a short journey down to the jetty at the end of the front of the island. Glancing towards where she'd hidden some of her clothes and Needle, there was a brief thought of retrieving them and running the stupid Waif through. Instead, Arya gritted her teeth and concentrated on the task. Something in the back of her mind told her Jaqen would not be putting her through this if there was not a purpose, a meaning behind the punishment. A lesson.

Stone steps built into the jetty led down to the water of the bay. When the tide was at its lowest, the rough stairs were used to reach boats. There were ten steps above the gentle lapping water Arya slowly descended toward. When her feet hit the cold sea, she gave a sharp intake of breath and felt a wave of goosebumps across her naked skin.  Carrying on, Arya stepped further down as the freezing water crept up her legs causing involuntary shivers. But the worst was yet to come, as the salty water lapped against the sores across the back of her thighs and bottom. At first the cold relieved the burning sensation from the welts, lulling Arya into the thought it might well be a good thing.

Then the first stings, as the salt stung the open sores, ripped a yelp from her lips.

Up to her waist in the water, her buckets were already full, and Arya turned, preparing to climb back to the jetty. There was a crack as the Waif whipped the strip of leather across Arya’s breasts and down onto her stomach.

“All the way no name.” The Waif knelt on the side of the Jetty.

Arya glared at her, but as the Waif raised her leather whip, the young apprentice turned and stepped deeper into the water, feeling its icy cold fingers crawl up her back.  As each welt was submerged a line of intense stinging erupted, adding itself to the chorus of agony Arya had to endure. Eventually reaching the final step saw the water rise to her neck.

Struggling to control her breathing as the cold and pain caused her to gasp for air, Arya turned and began the climb back to the jetty. She couldn't help but glance up. The Waif gave her a casual grin, obviously enjoying the look of anguish on Arya's face. As fast as she could the young apprentice ascended, making sure the buckets remained full as they emerged from the sea.

Arya was still shivering uncontrollably as freezing drops of seawater dripped onto the grey stone of the jetty. It felt as if every inch of bare skin either itched or stung, and even her shirt was now uncomfortable. Wrapped around her neck and soaked through. Both nipples had hardened, not only from the freezing water but the gentle sea breeze which added to her discomfort.

Outside the House of Black and White was another set of wide steps Arya needed to negotiate. Reaching the first Arya stumbled a fraction, but it was enough for water to slop over the top of the buckets. Immediately there was a streak of pain across her bottom as the Waif reacted to the split water. Arya shrieked and staggered. More water slopped onto the steps, and there was another line of excruciating agony across bare flesh.

Arya wanted to hurl the buckets at the Waif before ripping the whip from her hand and landing blow after blow on the evil wench. It took all of Arya's willpower to steady herself and continue the climb until she could pass through the doors by inching sideways to get both buckets through.

By the time Arya reached the training room, she’d taken six more licks from the Waif as water spilt down the narrow stairs. Each blow biting into her skin and setting a part of a body on fire.

In the training room, Arya immediately went to work with the stiff scrubbing brush as she cleaned the main wooden boards. It took both buckets to clean away the blood. Arya felt the cleaning was almost a relief, despite the constant pain and itching that dogged her body. She was desperate to rub the sorest parts, or scratch away the itching. But she suspected such actions would lead to further whipping.

She didn’t want to give the Waif the satisfaction.

While she might've have expected immersing herself in the water a second time would be more comfortable, Arya discovered the new welts caused by the Waif’s leather whip were even sorer than the previous blows.  Already damaged skin was more susceptible to the intense stinging of the saltwater. Each line a little dance of agony as the w lapped up her exposed body until once again Arya was neck-deep in the freezing sea.

It took six trips to the jetty to complete the cleaning the training room to the Waif’s satisfaction. Each journey had entailed at least four licks of the whip on different parts of her body, despite Arya being as careful as she could to not spill any of the water. She thought the waif looked disappointed she couldn’t dole out as much damage to Arya is that she might have been able to do.

Of course, word had spread amongst the small population of the house of Black and White, especially the boys, about one of the apprentice’s punishment. A few of them had already seen Arya in the training room, but they took a chance after the evening meal to watch her nude body climbing and descending the stairs while carrying the buckets. The Waif eventually chased them away. Though only once they’d been allowed to have a good ogle. They seemed to particularly appreciate the licks of the whip on her body. If the Waif’s attention was on someone else, then they would be safe from her wrath for a few days.

Arya bore all the humiliating scrutiny with a straight face, avoiding grimacing or reacting to their lascivious gazes. The first time she’d made a comment and tried to tell one of the boys to fuck off, it gained her another whip across the back of the thighs just above her knees. It became the first line of stinging agony when she stepped into the seawater.

What was bizarre, however, was the more the other people observed and commented upon her body, the more Arya couldn't help but notice their positive reaction to her nudity. She had no experience with boys, beyond peering through the windows of the brothel outside Winterfell and giggling at the sight of naked men and women. She wondered if men would look wantonly on her body. The same way they did when choosing a woman in the whore houses. It seemed they would.

As the evening wore on, Arya’s shoulders and arms began to ache, adding to the various pains already ravaging her body. Fatigue meant she made more mistakes while carrying the buckets, and as the water slopped onto the jetty the Waif delivered further punishment. The thin length of leather now regularly leaving red welts across her stomach and breasts. At one point the Waif struck her with such accuracy the leather curled between Arya’s legs and left a devastatingly painful red sore on the lips of her sex.

A burning welt that seemed to hurt the most when the saltwater lapped against it.

The cold was also taking its toll, draining Arya of energy and each time her body was submerged in the sea her shivering lasted far longer. Even while scrubbing the floor of the main hall her body would be shaking.

The sun had set, and Arya's final trip to the freezing seawater had resulted in nearly a dozen whips on the front and back of her legs. The Waif appeared to want to make sure every inch of Arya’s naked body was damaged in some way.

Finally, when the last stone on the floor of the main chamber was scrubbed clean, Jaqen appeared.

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“A girl needs to control her body and emotions. When a girl gets angry, she makes mistakes, and mistakes cause pain, and pain causes more mistakes. The water is only cold in the mind, the pain is only in the mind, your distress is only in the mind.  When a girl has mastered her mind, a girl will master her pain and emotions. Only then will a girl be ready to make our own decisions.”

Despite having no energy to lift a finger, or even utter a word of defiance, Arya still felt the buildup of anger at the injustice of her treatment. All she'd been trying to do was the right thing. But she was too exhausted, too beaten down to retaliate.

“You will see to her wounds. Jaqen turned to the Waif. “Make sure she recovers well.”

As Jaqen disappeared once more, the Waif, her stick back in hand, and Arya thought she was going to suffer another beating as she tried to struggle off her knees.  Instead, the Waif handed her stick to Arya, allowing the young apprentice to rise unsteadily to her feet. The Waif was obviously confident Arya was too weak to offer any threat.

She was right.

While the Waif didn’t offer any assistance to Arya as they walked through the hall, neither did she try to cajole her to move faster. When they descended the stairs to the preparation chamber, the Waif indicated for Arya to climb up onto the stone slab where the dead bodies were laid out for washing.

“On your front,” the Waif commanded, taking the stick from Arya, so she was forced to grab onto the side of the slab even just to stand.

“You're not going to beat me again, are you?” Arya almost started sobbing at the thought she was going to lie face down while the Waif went to town on her already shattered body.

“On your front,” The Waif repeated her command.

With no option, Arya did as she was told.  She was soon laid on the cool slab with the occasional violent shiver causing parts of her body to painfully scrape against the solid stone.

She couldn't stop tears rolling down her cheeks as she lay trembling and wondering what was going to happen next. What other humiliating ordeal was she going to have to endure before this was over? It wasn't as even as though she could run away. She didn't even have the energy to walk unassisted, and where would she go anyway?

She felt the presence of the Waif beside her, but didn't dare look around. In her imagination, the Waif was holding some new object of torture and Arya would spend the rest of the night screaming and sobbing until there was nothing left of her.

Instead, something cool splashed onto the back of Arya’s legs. She braced herself for the stinging of saltwater as the liquid spread across the back of one of her thighs. The coolness brought some relief to the burning sensation that scorched her skin.

And there was no stinging.

There was the feeling of something pressing down on her flesh, and it was a moment or two before she discerned it must be the Waif’s hand, and again she braced, expecting some pinching or slapping from the horrible girl.

The hand began to slowly rub the cooling liquid into her sore skin, relieving the pain and restoring normality to the back of her thighs. The touch was firm enough to spread the lotion but gentle enough not to cause further pain. Arya focused her attention on the area as the relief was increasing with each circle of the Waif's hand.

More lotion dripped onto Arya’s body. This time across her buttocks and two hands massaged the cool cream into burning welts the Waif herself had inflicted with seemingly so much pleasure.

It wasn't long before her entire bottom area was free from pain. Arya marvelled at how quickly her agony diminished. The Waif added more lotion to her bottom, only this time some of the massaging was a little firmer. The Waif gripped her flesh between her fingers but not in a painful way because there were no wounds to make Arya wince. Suddenly the world wasn't feeling as bad. Slowly but surely all of Arya’s back, bottom and legs were treated until the burning pain was soothed away

“Turn over,” the Waif said in a deep raspy voice, as though she'd been breathing heavily.

Arya complied as she was glad to take the pressure of the sore skin of her front. Despite it not having taken as much damage has her back and bottom, there was still plenty of welts on sensitive areas.

The Waif took hold of the sodden shirt Arya still had rolled uselessly up to her neck and began pulling it upwards, the very movement urging a compliant Arya to raise their arms, allowing the Waif to remove the stinking garment clean off her body. She tossed it away, leaving the young apprentice completely nude.

Arya watched the Waif as she dripped the yellow liquid from a thick, earthenware bowl in a circle around her belly button. After placing down the pot, both the Waif’s hands began to massage around the area, smoothing away the pain of the welts.

The Waif worked her way up Arya's belly and onto her rib cage.  More yellow lotion was dripped onto the severe welts across young breasts. Arya gasped as the Waif's hands moved onto each small mound of flesh, nipples hardened immediately as the Waif massaged the liquid deep into the skin. The pain of the damage caused by the leather whip was instantly replaced by a pleasurable warmth dissipating throughout Arya's body as the Waif continued working her breasts.

Glancing at the Waif revealed Arya’s tormentor wore an expressionless mask as though she was just cleaning the dead bodies.

After pouring more of the soothing fluid down Arya's thighs, skilful hands moved smoothly down around the area. Arya allowed herself to relax, looking up at the tall stone roof as the Waif soothed the way the injuries. Each time her fingers would press between Arya's thighs she forced the young apprentice’s legs slightly apart, under the guise of reaching every piece of damage which had been inflicted.

With her legs separated, Arya could feel the Waif massaging further and further inside her thighs, and felt her body tense with each circular motion as deft fingers danced against the edge of her naked sex.

Then there was a pause, and for a moment Arya thought the Waif had finished even though there was still an intense stinging from the welt across the lips of her sex. Arya suddenly found herself incredibly disappointed she was no longer going to get the attention on a body whose pain had been replaced by a warm tingling.  She was startled to find herself considering begging the Waif to continue when all day Arya had been desperate to be left alone.

Arya’s body arched involuntarily as further drops thick yellow lotion landed on around her sex. The heat that now throbbed in her groin expunged the final stinging and Arya found herself spreading her legs wider, inviting the Waif to toward her most intimate parts.

A touch was barely discernible as mere fingertips spread the lotion around the lips of Arya's sex. A sensation of intense pleasure flooded Arya's body.  She felt her sex responding and becoming slick.

The dancing of the Waif’s fingers began to induced its own form of bizarre agony. Arya was desperate for them to spread inside her wet sex and explore the trainee apprentice’s virgin mound.

The moment it happened a loud groan ripped from Arya’s lips. She thrust her hips upwards, trying to angle the Waif's fingers inside her. Infuriatingly, the Waif simply moved them, making sure the lotion was spread around the outside. Teasing Arya that she might explore further, but holding back. Sometimes moving up Arya's stomach before returning and filling Arya with an erotic anticipation that was almost tearing her apart. It was a form of torturous pleasure Arya never thought could have existed.

There was another moment where nothing touched her naked skin.  The Waif had moved away with the bowl. Bending down, she placed it on the floor by the side of the stone table. An intense disappointment depressed Arya as her body craved more erotic touches. She moaned almost ready to explore her sexuality with her own fingers.

The Waif stood.  Her eyes roamed across Arya's body, locking gazes for a moment and the young apprentice wondered if the Waif could see her desperation for further attention. There was an embarrassment at such a change of thinking. A further humiliation heaped on what Arya’s had felt throughout the day.

And yet it only seemed to cause her arousal to heighten.

The Waif smiled and leant over the prone body of the young apprentice. Her head moved between Arya’s legs. Her lips met the lips of Arya's sex. The young apprentice gave a startled scream of delight as her hips bucked.  The Waif removed her head from between Arya's legs for a moment. Biting her lips, Arya closed her eyes and tried to gain some element of control before moments later the Waif’s mouth was back at Arya’s naked sex. Her warm wet tongue slipped in between Arya's slick lips and began its exploration of the younger apprentice’s virgin cunt.

Arya didn't know how long the Waif’s attention to her sex lasted. She was so lost in a continuous moment of sexual ecstasy.  The warm tongue sometimes gently, and sometimes forcefully, stimulated every erogenous element within its reach until Arya's body soared with a rush of erotic pleasure.  She cried out as her whole body arched upwards as though trying to force the Waifs attentions even deeper.

Eventually, the rush was too much. The erotic pleasure too much and as her insides exploded in an inferno of juice-filled ecstasy, Arya dropped back onto the slab. Her body spent.

She did not know how long she’d laid panting as she tried to gain some semblance of understanding over the new sensations she was feeling. The Waif had pulled away.

“Pain can become pleasure as pleasure can become pain.”

Arya heard Jaqen's voice, and a moment later, she felt an intense agony on both her breasts as her nipples with heightened sensitivity from the sexual experience was squeezed tightly.

Her eyes shot open to see the Waif stretching her nipples upwards as Jaqen looked on. They were both expressionless.

“A girl has learned a lot today, I think.”

Arya nodded, trying to fight back the tears as the Waif continued to twist and squeeze her nipples. She pulled them upwards, stretching them away from Arya’s chest.

“A girl will rest and reflect.” Jaqen bowed his head. “Tomorrow, she must seek forgiveness from those she has wronged.”

Before Arya could reply, Jaqen vanished. At the same moment, the Waif released her hold on Arya's breasts and did the same.

Breathing hard to recover, she heard their feet descend the steps leaving her alone to lie on the stone slab where so many dead were treated, and contemplate her punishment day.

But what did he mean by seeking forgiveness from those she had wronged?