#kiof

[thekunstwollen]

Hello everyone! This time I decided to recreate Natty's look from Kiss of life. I love this haircut and her style in this music video, although I also added some colored highlights as an accessory. Apart from that, I also want to share with you Natty's sim, for all of you who know the band and are as big fans as I am :)

-Hairstyle, highlights and sim

-Maxis match

-Base Game compatible

-Female, teen to elder

-Hat compatible

-All LODs

-Disabled for random

-Restricted for opposite frame

-EA swatches

-Custom thumbnail

-Highlights on piercing cattegory

-Tray files and CC list

-Patreon

-Please don’t reupload to other sites

- Please don't edit this hair, you can recolor but tell me first

-Enjoy!💜

[mrgoldmc26]

What Happens in Lisbon… ft. Julie

Word Count: 8.8k

A/N: This fic is very personal for me, given it's about the time I went to KIOF's concert in Lisbon. In it, I share many details about my experience, as well as real life details about myself, my life, and all that sort of stuff. Also, I'm trying a no tags fic, because why not? You know what will happen anyways...

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

Back in 2019, if you had told me that one day I would go to a K-pop concert, I would've laughed in your face. There was no chance that I would let my first ever concert be a K-pop one.

Flash forward to the present day, March 13th, 2025, and I was right...well, kinda. It's funny how time changes a person. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be just a few hours away from my second ever concert, and first one if we are talking about the K-pop genre.

Ever since becoming a fan, I always thought Blackpink would've been my first one, but nope (as if they would ever come to Portugal). Instead, I was about to watch another four-member girl group: Kiss of Life. I first found out about them through an Instagram reel of Haneul doing a sexy dance. The way she moved her body got me instantly hooked, and I just had to ask my friend, who knew way more about K-pop than I did, who this cutie was. Over the following weeks, I became a big fan of their music, and when they announced they were doing a world tour and were passing through my town, I just knew I had to be there.

The show was going to take place in Lisbon's famous Campo Pequeno arena.

Campo Pequeno was an arena that had a special spot in my heart. As a teenager, I remember going there to watch a LEGO showcase event, where my family ended up buying a Millennium Falcon set for me to build. However, the main reason I was attached to this place was because, as a kid, I used to watch touradas on TV alongside my late grandmother. Even though it was something I no longer cared about or supported, at the time, I did find it entertaining, mainly when it was time to catch the bull.

It was a place with a lot of history, and KIOF was about to make theirs, and wrap up the European portion of their world tour—and luckily for me, I had a front row ticket to watch everything that was about to go down.

When I got there about an hour before the show, I saw loads of people outside the arena. Most people were talking to others, but there were some on their phones, whilst others were either holding homemade signs or lightsticks.

I really didn't want to go home empty-handed, and so I started circling the arena in search of a merch store until I found one. Thankfully, the line wasn't that big, and soon I got my chance to buy some merch. Out of every product available, none caught my attention more than the lightstick, and shortly after giving my money to the lovely lady behind the stand, I had it in my hands.

By the time I was done with the whole merch search, multiple lines of people started being made, and so I made my way towards the one that was nearest to my location. It was only then that I started looking around me to see the other fans who were about to witness KIOF.

If I had to use one word to describe them all, I would probably go with girls. Girls everywhere. It was safe to say that more than 90% of the people who were going to be in attendance were women, and that's when the feeling started settling in. What feeling, you ask? Nervousnessness. Oh boy, was I fucking nervous. As an introvert who very much never leaves the house, I hated going anywhere alone, but going to a concert where I would be surrounded by thousands of girls??? Yikes. I never felt more out of place in my life than at that moment.

I tried to shake some of those thoughts off by checking my phone and talking to my friends on Discord as I waited to get inside the building, and sure enough, about a quarter of an hour later, I was inside.

Once inside, I saw a popcorn machine right by the entrance, but since I wasn't hungry, I just walked right past it. I kept following the people in front of me, and once I got to the main area where the seats were, a woman, probably in her late thirties, helped me find my seat, and I got super excited once I finally sat down. I was so close to the stage I could almost touch it. I had dreamt about this moment for the past three months, ever since I bought myself an early Christmas present.

The arena slowly filled itself in the next thirty minutes, and the excitement in the room grew with each passing minute. Everyone was just waiting for KIOF, shouting for them, and suddenly the speakers started playing their debut song, 'Shhh'. Everyone lost their shit, and whilst some started screaming, the others started singing along. I tried to keep my calm and save my voice, and so I just giggled excitedly and turned on my lightstick as we all waited for them to show up on the stage. More KIOF chants filled the arena, and then...it happened.

The lights went out, and the crowd erupted. Loud and thunderous instrumental music started playing, and the noise inside the room kept getting louder and louder. Thousands of girly screams filled the arena, and once the first KIOF member showed up, I caved in and joined them—I could not hold my excitement anymore. One by one, they came up on the stage, each getting a louder ovation than the one before. Due to the lights being partially off, all I could really see were their silhouettes, and because of the epic drum instrumental, the whole moment was just monumental. They were very much aura farming, and I was there for it. KIOF had officially arrived in Lisbon, and they were here to slay.

In just a snap of the fingers, the lights came back on and 'Bad News' started playing, kicking off the concert. Everyone around me started singing, however, since it wasn't one of my favourites, I saved my voice and started recording them, just to have some videos of them to show to my friends and family.

The main reason why I was so keen to save my voice was because I knew from previous experience that I didn't have much in me, and it was gone after just two songs in my first ever concert. I really wanted to sing along to my favourite KIOF song, 'Igloo', so I was hoping that I didn't have to wait long, and thankfully, I really didn't, as it was the very next song.

Throughout the night, every song got a pop out of the crowd, but none got a bigger pop than when the first few notes of 'Igloo' started playing. I jumped and screamed like one of the many girls around me, and began singing the lyrics. It felt surreal having them so close to me, dancing and singing to my favourite song of theirs.

The hype didn't stop there, because the very next song was none other than 'Get Loud', which was another one of my personal favourites. During this performance, confetti was shot up into the air once the first chorus hit, and I swear that at that point I felt like the happiest man in the world, watching one of my favourite K-pop groups live in the flesh.

They all looked top-notch on the stage, but none had more energy or stage presence than Julie. Even though she wasn't my bias, she was actually the one member I was most looking forward to seeing. She was a menace on the stage. The way she moved her body, her hips, her ass...fuck. Julie was a boner-making machine, and seeing her turn around and shake her ass right in front of me was enough to get me throbbing in the front row.

From that point, all I could think about was Julie and how amazing it would be to pound her asshole and dump a load inside it. What it would feel like to have her naked on top of me, sliding her pussy lips on my shaft. Or even have those perfect dick sucking lips around my length whilst she lazily gave me the best blowjob of my life.

All those thoughts had me bricked the fuck up in the front row, and I was almost shitting my pants when the Kissy Chair came around. I had seen in videos online that KIOF liked to invite a member of the front row to sit on the Kissy Chair, whilst they performed very sensually and provocatively in front of them. On one hand, of course I wanted to get picked. I'd die to have any of them so close to me, teasing me whilst they performed one of their songs. But, on the other hand, I was hoping I wouldn't get picked because if I were to make my way on stage, everyone would've been able to see my obvious erection, and I probably would've died from embarrassment.

Thankfully, or unthankfully depending on the way you see it, I wasn't picked. It was a girl who ended up having that privilege, and I couldn't help but feel super jealous seeing Haneul, Belle, Natty, and Julie all touching her, teasing her, surrounding her, and pretty much flirting with her. The smile on her face said it all, and I was sure it was a moment she'd never forget.

The show went on, and I tried to shake the Julie lewd thoughts off my head the best I could by focusing on them singing some of my favourite songs like 'Nothing' and 'Midas Touch', and just like that, we had arrived at the Encore, where they posed with a huge Portuguese flag.

As for the Encore songs, they sang another one of my favourite songs in 'Bye My Neverland', as well as 'No One But Us' (in which they actually came off stage and performed it in the middle of the crowd), and 'Back To Me'.

When they finished singing the last song, they bowed down and said their goodbyes. I felt a bit sad that this was it. I was probably never going to see them ever again. That was until a woman's voice on the speakers informed the people in the front row to wait until everyone left so we could meet the members. With everything going on, I had legit forgotten about that, and the fact that I did have a chance to see them and take a photo with the four talented idols.

After waiting for everyone else to leave the arena, we were called one by one to go backstage and meet the idols. Once it was finally my turn, I walked up to them and gave each a very weak and shaky handshake—I could not believe I had just touched not one but four K-pop idols just like that.

They asked me what my name was and if I enjoyed the concert, and after replying to them, I was told to get in the middle of them for the group photo, and so I snuck in between Belle and Haneul, put my arms around them, and smiled at the person who was holding the camera. I had no idea what my expression was at that moment, but I'm sure that anyone who saw me would say that I looked like a kid entering a candy shop for the first time. Glancing at both girls on each side of me, I noticed some sweat drops on their faces, and it amazed me how good both Belle and Haneul smelled after a concert.

Once the picture was taken, I was allowed to get one photo with each member individually, and I went ahead and asked the four to sign my KIOF lightstick. They gladly did it, and after giving it back to me, I bowed to them and thanked them for the amazing show they put on. Just as I was about to start walking away to leave the arena and go home, I felt a hand grab hold of my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I looked over my shoulder to see Julie closing the distance and whispering in my ear:

"Don't leave just yet, cutie. Wait for me by the popcorn machine."

What. The actual. Fuck. I had so many questions that needed answers, and unfortunately for me, before I could even process her request, she was already near her bandmates and getting ready to meet another fan.

I was so lost by having her near me and whispering in my ear with that smooth and soft voice of hers, that I completely forgot what she said. All I remember was something, something popcorn machine, and so I made my way there.

There was a loud buzz outside, no doubt people jumping with joy and talking to other fans about what they had just seen inside. If I had to bet, I would probably go with them asking their friends what their favourite moment was, or who stole the show, and all that concert talk.

Inside, things were very much different. It was awfully quiet. The halls were empty, and it all felt oh so very eerie. The dim lighting didn't help either. It barely felt like a concert had just taken place, and more like a haunted, abandoned place.

"Are you going to buy something?"

"Oh...huh, no thanks. Just waiting for someone." I replied to the creepy old man behind the popcorn machine.

I had a love/hate relationship with popcorn. The taste? Amazing. I loved it. But it wasn't worth risking getting a piece of the hull stuck down my throat and going through two or three water bottles to get it out.

About 15 or so minutes later, Julie finally showed up, however, she was wearing something much different from a few minutes ago. No longer in her casual Encore clothes of a hoodie and mini skirt, but instead she was back into the first outfit that she started the show with.

"Hey, Julie. Why am I here? Why are you wearing your stage outfit again?"

"Shhh, you are asking way too many questions." She replied, grabbing my hand and leading me into the backstage area once again.

I couldn't believe it. I could not fucking believe I was holding hands with who I considered to be the hottest woman in K-pop. In my brain, I was scared...terrified, actually. I hated not knowing where this was going. Hated not being in control. But my heart? It told a completely different story. It was racing with excitement, of being alone with Julie as she took multiple turns backstage to find whatever she was looking for.

"Ah, got it. This is it."

"A door? What's behind it?"

Julie didn't reply, and instead she grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. I followed her inside, and my eyes immediately fell upon a black leather couch. It was very dusty, apart from the middle cushion—a clear sign that someone had sat on it recently. Other than that, there wasn't much else inside the room apart from some crates, a fire extinguisher and a very small wooden table in the corner.

"What is this room?"

"I don't know. I found it earlier today when walking backstage to take some cool pictures."

I remained silent and examined the room for a little while longer. Dropping my lightstick on the couch, I decided to use my finger to scoop some of the dust that was on it to properly get a feel of how dusty it was. It took Julie to clear her throat to make me remember that I wasn't alone, and once I turned around and saw the smile on her face after closing the door...that's when the cogs started turning in my brain, and I realized what I was in for.

"You know...I've been eyeing you down since the start of the show."

"You have?"

Once again, my question was met with silence, though given what happened next, I very much didn't mind it at all. She put her arms on my chest and shoved me against the couch. Before I could even get a word out or get back up on my feet, Julie was already on top of me, straddling my lap and closing the gap between us. Her hand found the side of my neck, and she planted her lips on mine. Instinctively, I rested my hands on her hips and kept making out with KIOF's leader.

I had a hard on in just a matter of seconds, but I honestly couldn't give a single fuck about it—not when I had Julie's full lips on mine.

Why was she doing this? How did I get into this situation? Honestly, I couldn't really care. Those were questions for later, as right now, all I really wanted to do was to enjoy having Julie on top of me and feeling our tongues fight for dominance. Pulling away was very much not on the table.

The longer it went on, the more handsy we got. Her right hand went after my throbbing erection, as if she was trying to cop a feel and make me even harder than what I already was. If my cock was her target, then her top was mine. My hands traveled the length of her hips until they reached their destination and found the zipper on the back. It was hard pulling it down with Julie moving so much on top of me and with her tongue shoved deep in my mouth, but eventually I did manage to do it.

My efforts were rewarded by having her tits rub against my chest every time there was some sort of movement, and I was aching to get her off my lap so I could free my cock and let Julie do her thing. Despite this, I wasn't going to miss out on having the breasts I so badly craved for the past few months on my mouth, and since her tits were already out on full display, I broke our heated make-out session and I cupped them in my hands. They felt so nice and firm under my touch, and I just couldn't help but put my lips on one of her nipples after a while.

"Mhhhh, that's it, baby. Suck on my tits just like that."

"I love it when hot guys like you play with them and give them the attention that they deserve."

"Don't they get enough love from others?" I asked, moving from one breast to the other.

"No. It's always other parts of my body that guys like to focus on. The other girls all get more attention up there than I do. Haneul because they are small and cute, Natty because she's a big-titted Thai slut, and Belle because she looks like a Barbie—that one is such a fuckdoll."

It was insanely hot hearing Julie degrade her members behind their backs, and even hotter once I processed that she must've seen all of them naked to know this type of information. The idol ran her fingers through my short brown hair and moaned out my name a few times.

In the weeks leading up to the show, I tried to plan out the concert in my head...think of every possible outcome. What would the perfect show look like? Needless to say, in none of those drafts I had my tongue around Julie's tits and her moaning out my name. It was, without a doubt, the best sex of my life, and I still hadn't even stuck my cock inside the American slut and pounded her into oblivion. I honestly thought it couldn't get better than this, but it did, once Julie decided to replace my name with one of my favourite trigger words.

"Ohhhh, daddy. You are making me so fucking wet. I need your cock right now."

"Daddy, huh? Is that your thing?"

"Yes. I love being daddy's slut."

"You are a little cockslut, aren't you?"

"Hmm hmmm. The biggest one of the group."

"Nobody deepthroats cocks better than me."

"Nobody takes them up the ass better than me."

"Nobody drains them quicker than me."

"Is that so? Prove that to me right now, Julie."

She didn't need to be told twice. In the blink of an eye, Julie had hopped off my lap and made her way where she belonged—on her knees. Her hands made quick work of my trousers, and before I could even say anything, she had already fished out my hard cock.

"Oh fuckkkk. It's pretty big. Gosh, I love touring in Europe."

"Boys are always packing around here." She added, as she started stroking my length.

Lost under Julie's touch, I could only moan softly and watch her take her sweet ass time playing with my shaft. I put my arms around the couch and just enjoyed the sight of the hottest woman in K-pop giving me a handjob.

"Do you have any idea how many cocks have been between these lips?"

"I have no fucking clue, Julie. How many?"

"Oh, I don't know either. I've lost track of that ages ago..."

"Too many, but also, not enough. I don't think I can do 24 hours without sucking a cock."

I should've been shocked by her revelation, but truth is...I wasn't. Not one bit. I always had Julie up there with the likes of Jennie and Yunjin for the biggest sluts of the industry, so her saying stuff like this was not surprising at all. What was surprising actually, was the fact that she still hadn't wrapped her perfect dick sucking lips around my cock, given how much of a cock sucking slut she was proud to be.

"I'm glad I get to be your first one of the day, then."

"Well..."

"What?"

"Nothing...it's nothing." She replied, and that's when I started putting the pieces in the puzzle. The hesitation in her voice. The lack of dust on the center cushion of the couch...

"This bitch blew another guy in this room earlier on." I thought to myself. Hours...maybe minutes before the show. It didn't matter. All my thoughts about what had happened went away as soon as Julie finally put her lips around my cock and started blowing me off.

Slow and controlled was her starting technique. The way she swirled her tongue around my cockhead with those big, plump lips of hers...insanity. Julie had me in the palm of her hand, and she knew it. She knew that she could ask me anything, and my answer would be yes. I'd do anything and everything for her, but thankfully for me, I didn't need to go that far, as all she wanted was to please me and drain my balls. That was what she craved...hot guys losing all sense of composure under her touch...to hear their moans....to see them squirm in their seats as she took their big dicks inside deeper inside her mouth, and that's exactly what she did next.

Without ever breaking eye contact, she slowly took me inch by inch until her mouth was fully stuffed with my cock. She held me there for a few seconds before pulling away, lips always wrapped tightly around my length.

The only time she took her eyes off me was to see just how much cock was coming out of her mouth when she needed a breather.

She didn't need to say anything. The smile on her face said it all—and so did mine. We were both really enjoying this, probably Julie more than I, given I was trying my hardest not to blow so soon.

It felt like I was in a Mission Impossible movie. The mission?—Don't fucking cum right away! But sadly for me, it was one of those movies where the hero fails and the villain wins. The villain in this case was a cum hungry Julie, and the worst part of it all was that she wasn't even trying. Every action she did was slow and deliberate. The bitch knew what she was doing. It's like she had years of experience and thousands of subjects to study and figure out how to perfectly suck a dick.

Her face didn't help me either. The big doe-like eyes, skin that looked like it tasted like honey if I licked it, and the most amazing full, plump lips—simply pornographic.

"Julie, baby..."

"Awww, struggling to keep it in already?" She responded, releasing my cock from within the depths of her mouth with a loud pop.

She smiled at me, because of course she did. I was merely her puppet—another cock to the long list of lucky guys that have had the pleasure to get blown by KIOF's leader over the years. Julie was made to suck big dicks, and nothing on this planet made her happier than having one to play with.

In order to slow down the pace even more so that I wouldn't blow so soon, I told Julie to pout her lips for me, and she gladly did it. I took her new shiny toy away from her and held it in my hand, pressing it against her swollen lips before I started rubbing it all over them. I made sure to cover every inch of her lips with my precum until they were glistening.

I could've stayed like that all night long, I really could...

But Julie would never allow it. For a cock sucking whore like her, one second without a dick in her mouth is a second wasted, and it had already been too long since mine was sitting comfortably inside her perfect lips, and so, with no warning, she took ownership of my shaft once again and took me into her mouth once again.

No more slow bullshit. It was time for me to find out just how good her throat game was, and right off the bat, I could tell I was in a bit of a problem. Too good...oh so very good, Julie was. Headmaster. Throatgoat. Those were just some of the nicknames that my mind could think of once she started deepthroating me over and over and over again.

"Julie...I don't think I'm gonna last much longer if you keep sucking my dick like this."

"Good. That's the plan. The sooner we get that first load out of the way, the longer you can fuck my pussy afterwards."

It was bold of her to assume I would even have a second life after the first load, but if there was anyone who could make my cock ready for a round 2, it was her.

Julie kept choking herself on my cock, yet her eyes remained normal—they weren't tearing up. She was so used to taking dicks down her throat that nothing was a challenge for her anymore.

I thought it was impossible to get any hotter, but Julie once again proved me wrong when she started bobbing her head up and down on my shaft at a rapid pace whilst stroking the rest of my shaft. Even though she was only sliding her lips across half of my length, the extra value that her hand brought to the table by being around my cock and jerking it off, more than made up for it.

The sounds she was making were simply orgasmic. Loud slurping noises filled the room, and everything was just music to my ears—dare I say, even better than the songs she performed in the concert alongside her friends.

At the pace that Julie was sucking me off, I was basically a goner, and once she used her free hand to massage and fondle my balls, it was game over for me. I put my hand on her head and pushed her down on my cock until she had my whole length inside, and I started shooting multiple ropes to the back of her throat.

Even for a slut like Julie, it was too much to swallow, and some ended up leaking out from the corners of her mouth and dribbling down her chin, which just made the whole thing way hotter if you ask me.

She opened her mouth wide to show she me drank it all like the good little slut she was proud to be, and then went diving right back down on my softening cock, not only to bring it back to full hardness but also to try and milk me dry out of every last drop.

"Fucking hell, Julie. You just can't get enough, can you?"

"Nope. I always need cock in my mouth."

"Oh, by the way...it was delicious. I fucking love feeling guys shoot their loads into the back of my throat."

"You are a bad, bad girl..."

"Is that so? Then punish me."

"How? How does my cock sucking slut want to get punished?"

"Stand up and fuck my face, daddy."

"Fuck it nice and hard. I want to gag all over that fucking cock."

I chuckled at her idea of punishment, because it sure as hell didn't look like one. It sounded more like a reward to me, given her obsession with having big cocks down her throat, but I wasn't going to deny Julie of her wish, since this would also be a present for me.

She opened her mouth as much as she could and let her tongue hang out, waiting for me to slide my cock past her lips and into her mouth. The sight of it all was very inviting—Julie on her knees, naked before me, and eager to get her face fucked.

As much as she was looking forward to it, so was I, however, I decided to push her buttons a little bit and tease her by resting my cock on her beautiful face—it really was the perfect canvas for my pencil. Julie, always wanting to have something in her mouth, instinctively reached out with her tongue and started lapping at my balls, coating them in spit. She took my recently drained balls into her mouth and she slobbered all over them for a while, until she once again begged me to use her throat like my personal cock sleeve.

I had my fun teasing her, and I didn't want to keep her waiting any longer, so I gave Julie what she wanted and shoved my cock down her throat before I started to fuck the shit out of her face. Grabbing her hair not only for balance but also for better control, I pounded away into her throat, not caring how much she was gagging or struggling to breathe.

"Take it. Take that cock all the way down, you dumb fucking slut."

"You like that shit, don't you?"

"Hmmm hmmm. I love it, daddy." She replied with her mouth full of cock.

Julie kept taking my length like a cock obsessed whore, and I could feel myself getting harder and harder within the depths of her tight throat. Her chin was completely soaked, and the same could be said about her pretty face. Rivers of droll escaped her mouth, falling onto the ground and creating a pool beneath her.

It was only when looking at the mess we were making that I realized Julie had her right hand between her legs, playing with her dripping wet pussy. From the looks of it, she was two, maybe three fingers deep, furiously rubbing herself as she kept getting face fucked by my huge cock.

She was going so hard that I got concerned that she would make herself cum. I wanted to be the one to do so, obviously, so I pulled out of her mouth, spit strings still connecting my tip and her perfect dick sucking lips. Julie gasped for air as soon as my cock escaped her mouth, before she turned to me, not looking very happy about it.

"Why did you pull out, daddy? I was having so much fun." She said, pouting her lips at me.

She looked so cute and hot at the same time when she pulled that move—it almost made me want to shove my dick down her throat once again, but I had a different idea in mind.

"Don't you think it's time we put those holes to good use, Julie?"

"Uuuuu, I like the sound of that. Where do you want me?"

"Get up, hands on the couch. Gonna hit you from the back."

Julie shot me one of her trademark dirty smiles as she walked past me and placed herself exactly how I asked her to—hands resting on the couch cushion and her back slightly arched for me. She spread her legs and showed me her pretty pink pussy before she started swaying her hips from side to side, teasing me. I cut that off real quick though, by moving behind her and running my fingers upwards on her right leg, and once I reached her ass, I slapped it harshly, making Julie moan out loudly.

"Fuckkk, daddy. Are you sure you want my pussy and not my ass?"

"I really want your big cock in my ass."

It was an interesting proposition, but I denied her this time, such was the lust I had for Julie's wet pussy. Don't get me wrong...I loved her ass, probably more than her cunt, but seeing her play with herself, and how wet she was for my dick...I had to have it...to claim it for myself...to ruin it for everyone else lucky enough to get picked by Julie after a concert.

Without wasting any more time, I placed my tip in front of her entrance and slowly pushed myself inside her. My very first thought was that she was tighter than I expected. I really did think I was going to have just a tiny bit more freedom inside her, given how used to taking cocks she was, but it turned out I was in for a struggle against her walls.

"You are tight, girl..."

"And wet. I'm so wet for daddy's huge cock."

Julie was indeed wet. Beyond wet, actually. That was my lifesaver, or else I really didn't know how I would be able to sink my length all the way down. I was proud of myself for making her pussy this soaked for me. Little by little, I eased my way in until the whole thing was finally inside her, and fuck me, did it feel good.

I started slowly rocking my hips back and forth, enjoying how her walls clenched tightly around my shaft. However, I knew Julie only wanted one thing—hard and fast, and so after each time I pulled back, I made sure to thrust in not only harder but faster, and I never let my tip slip out of her tight pussy.

It all felt too good, and Julie wasn't making things any easier for me by moaning out loud and begging me to go even harder on her.

"Give me all of that fucking dick, daddy."

"Stretch me open with it. I can take it, fuckkkkkkk."

My thrusts became erratic, and my vision started getting a bit blurry, so I closed my eyes and fucked Julie with all I had, giving her every inch I had to offer. I was completely lost inside of her, so focused on pleasing her but also in my very own pleasure that I started zoning out. Everything around me became slower, and I stopped hearing her moans. No sound. No vision. It felt like a nightmare for a split second. That was until I opened my eyes again and was immediately met with a high-pitched ringing noise, like the sound of a grenade when it goes off. My immediate reaction was to wince my eyes to try and make that sound go away, and it did the trick once I opened them again. Julie was moaning loud and clear for my cock, and it felt like paradise again.

My vision however, still blurry. My eyes fell upon a shiny red object on top of the couch. I rubbed my eyes to be able to see what it was, and once I did, I saw that it was my new KIOF lightstick, signed and everything. I kept looking at it, then looked at Julie, and then back to the lightstick when suddenly...I had an idea.

I pulled out of her, and before Julie could even ask why I had done so, I leaned down and shoved my tongue up her ass.

"Oh my goddd, daddy, yessssss. Eat me out just like that."

Her satisfaction was short-lived as I only really wanted to get her lubed up. After I felt like Julie was nice and wet enough, I spat on her asshole a couple of times before I stood back up and slid my cock deep into her pussy again, but I didn't move. Instead, I remained still and grabbed the top of my lightstick. I poked her asshole for a bit with the handle of the lightstick before I slowly stuck the end inside her, making her gasp in surprise.

Julie wasn't expecting to have both of her holes stuffed at the same time, but as soon as I started rocking my hips back and forth whilst sliding the lightstick in and out of her asshole, she was completely on board with the idea.

I went slow at first, not wanting to break her in half and hurt her, but when she told me that she needed it rough and to feel both her holes plowed, I decided to give Julie exactly what she asked for. It was still very hard for me to go at full pace and fuck her ass with the lightstick at the same time, since multitasking was never my strong suit, but I tried my best.

"This is....so...fucking...good."

"Picking you to fuck me after the show was one of the best decisions in my life."

"Fuck, please don't stop. I'm so fucking close."

I wasn't planning on it, and even more so once she said she was about to cum. My hand was getting tired from shoving the lightstick in and out of her asshole, but I still kept going, trying my hardest to make her cum on my cock.

Julie was looking back at me, mouth agape. The look on her face said it all. She was desperate for release, and after a few more thrusts, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her legs started trembling and losing stability, and very shortly after, she came on my dick.

What followed was a room filled with nothing more than two people who were heavy breathing. I was expecting Julie to say how good it was and how good I made her feel, but what she said next took me by surprise.

"The lightstick was great, but...I want the real deal."

She did tell me that she wanted it beforehand, but I half expected her to forget about it, or tell me that she was too spent to keep going, but it was clear that I was wrong, and that she still had a bit left in the tank.

"Oh...are you sure? You want daddy's cock inside that ass?"

"Hmm hmm. I want to be daddy's anal slut."

"Very well." I said, pulling out of her and instructing her to walk towards the side of the couch and bend over for me.

She took her sweet ass time, still visibly shaken from her hard-hitting orgasm, but I didn't mind it. We were completely exhausted and in dire need of a breather. It wasn't just me pushing Julie to her limits—she was doing the same to me, and taking me to lengths I had never gone before with a woman.

I searched around the room for anything we could use to refresh ourselves, and started peeking inside the staff boxes. Despite not considering myself a lucky person, luck was on my side when I found a pack of water bottles. I looked at them like an absolute buffoon, and judging by the smile on my face, Julie probably thought I found a pot of gold owned by a leprechaun or something like that.

I grabbed one and opened it, pouring it entirely over my head before opening another one and drinking from it. It wasn't fresh water, but it did the trick. I threw a bottle over to Julie and she thanked me for it, before I walked towards her.

Once I got behind her, I was practically licking my lips when she bent over the armrest of the couch. This new position gave me the perfect angle to pound Julie's cheeks as hard and fast as I wanted, and I was going to do exactly that.

I grabbed hold of my hard shaft and tapped it on her ass cheeks, as well as slapped them with my right hand for a bit, before I pressed the tip on her asshole and slowly sank myself inside her. Despite my all-out assault on her with the lightstick, I was surprised by the fact that Julie was still ridiculously tight.

"Oh god, your cock feels even better inside my ass."

"Give it to me, baby. Nice and hard. Don't be afraid to fuck me with everything you have."

Despite her lust and need to get dicked down hard, I wanted to enjoy the moment, and I also didn't want to cum that quickly, since I knew that once I started fucking Julie just like she wanted, it would be game over for me.

So instead of giving her the pounding that she so desperately wanted, I decided to keep things slow. The way her asshole clenched around my length was amazing, and the view itself was even better. Having Julie bent over the couch, looking back at me and asking me to fuck her brains out—this truly was the best day of my life.

My thrusts were slow and controlled. I wanted to relish the feeling of having my cock inside the American slut, and therefore I held myself from bottoming out in her ass. I could sense the desperation in her tone when she pleaded with me to go faster, and even when I refused to do so, Julie came up with the 'we might get caught if we don't hurry up', and that was enough for me to pick up the pace.

"Hmmm, much better, daddy. Oh, by the way, can you give me your lightstick?"

"Why?"

"I want to taste my asshole of it as you fuck my ass as hard as you can."

"And after you are done dumping a load inside my ass, I want to suck your cock again."

"I need to know if my asshole tastes better off your dick or off the lightstick."

Her dirty talk left me dumbfounded, but I really shouldn't have been surprised by anything she did anymore, because it was Julie after all—one of, if not the biggest slut in K-Pop history.

I tossed her the lightstick and she wasted no time, immediately putting her lips around the handle and sucking on it. As for me, I was also on a 'no time to waste' deal, and after I grabbed hold of her hair and made a nice little ponytail with it, I began fucking her ass at a steady pace.

"Fuck, just like that, daddy. Fuck my ass just with your big cock...just...like...that." She said, struggling to get the words out of her mouth as I went for deeper thrusts.

At that moment, I swear nothing in the world could make me pull out of her. I didn't care if the lights went out, if a fire drill started, if someone on the speakers announced that the arena was closing, or if someone walked in on us—I was a man on a mission, and I was going to pump Julie's asshole full of cum.

The more I slammed my hips into her, the louder her moans got, and the more she moaned, the harder I went. It was a vicious cycle, and sadly for me, it was one that was coming to an end, despite my best efforts to keep it going for as long as I could.

"I fucking love having cock in my ass, daddy."

"Nothing feels better than letting fans split me open with their huge dicks after a show."

"Julie...fuck...I'm gonna cum." I said, feeling my orgasm getting closer and closer with each thrust.

"But...I still want more."

"More of what, slut?"

"Cock, daddy. I want more of your cock."

"I need cocks...all day, every day."

She kept on begging for more, and there really wasn't anything else I could do other than to keep burying my length inside Julie's tight walls. It all felt so cozy and warm, that I really didn't want to pull out at all.

It was crazy to think that just a couple of hours ago, Julie was just another K-Pop that I was obsessed with, and now here I was, balls deep in her ass and on the verge of cumming inside her.

Julie almost looked lifeless underneath me. In fact, the only signs of life coming out of her limping body were her soft and low moans. That was what I had reduced her to—she was no longer an idol, and instead my personal fuckdoll. Her only purpose had changed from entertaining thousands of people to draining my cock in just a few hours, and after a couple more hard thrusts, I began shooting thick spurts inside her.

"Hmmm, that's it, daddy. Fill me up with all that warm cum."

"I love being a cumdumpster for my biggest fans." Julie added, with the biggest smile on her face.

My reply was nonexistent. Instead, I sat right next to where her head was and pulled her towards me. Julie didn't need to be told what to do, and she opened her mouth for her favourite meal in the world—dick.

She eagerly took my length inside her mouth and slobbered all over it, lapping up any leftover cum. Her tongue swirled around the tip again and again, making sure my cock was completely cleaned, and I even used this opportunity to put my hand on top of her head and force her down on my dick, which caused Julie to gag around my length.

After making her deepthroat my cock a few more times, I slowly pulled her head off my shaft, and I loved watching the multiple strings of spit connecting her lips to my shaft. Her lips were even more plump than before, and I just couldn't help myself, so I put my hand behind her neck and kissed her, tasting myself on her amazing dick sucking lips.

We kept kissing for a while, our tongues flickering against each other, until Julie stood up and turned her back towards me, spreading her cheeks and showing me the mess I had made inside her. It was a beautiful sight, and I couldn't take my eyes off her puckered hole. She played with it, pushing some of my seed out, before she shoved two fingers up her ass and started slowly fingering herself whilst looking over her shoulder.

"By the way...I can confirm that my asshole tastes way better off your cock than off the lightstick." She said, giving me back the KIOF lightstick that had now been in two of her three holes.

Her words made me twitch, and it was crazy to see and feel the effect that they had on my cock. Her seductive and teasing voice, combined with her five-star dirty talk, was just impossible to resist, and she knew it—she didn't even have to look at my cock coming back to life to know it.

"You want me again, don't you, daddy?"

"Luckily for you, this was our final stop on the European portion of the world tour, which means I have no plans for the next twenty days. No obligations. I can do whatever I want." Julie added, before I could even reply.

"Stay here and get dressed. I'm going to my dressing room to change real quick, and then we can get an Uber to my hotel room. Does that sound good to you?"

"Does that sound good to you? Really? In what world would spending a night in a lavish hotel with an extremely...sexy...hot...woman like you ever sound bad?" I replied, stepping closer to Julie with each word, before pulling her naked body closer to me, as we began kissing each other once again.

Even though both of us really wanted to stay in that little storage room and have our way with each other once again, we really had to get going, so she pulled back and put on her stage outfit real quick before leaving for her dressing room. Meanwhile, I took my time with my own clothes, opting to sit on the couch and slowly put them back on.

I closed my eyes for a few minutes and tried to relax as much as possible whilst waiting for Julie. It felt incredible to have a moment of zen, after all the intense lewd action I just had with her, and had she taken some more minutes, I swore I would've fallen asleep on that sweaty black leather couch. Thankfully, she didn't, and once I heard knocking on the door, I quickly got up and we both left the Campo Grande Arena, now under the lights.

The Uber ride to the hotel was longer than we both expected, with us getting caught in the usual Lisbon traffic. Julie, however, made sure it wasn't a boring one by running her hands on my thighs and her fingers on my bulge, and even sneaking in a few kisses here and there.

Once the car finally stopped, I was stunned by the beautiful view of the Myriad hotel in Parque das Nações. The bright lights of the hotel contrasted perfectly against the Lisbon night sky, and I could even spot the lights coming from the Vasco da Gama bridge in the distance, the biggest bridge in all of Europe—something I wasted no time telling Julie, and unsurprisingly, for a woman who only has dick in her mind, it left her little impressed.

Going into the hotel, I was just overall excited to be able to spend a night in a place that normally, I could only ever dream of, but doing so with one of the hottest girls on the planet. We tried to keep our hands for ourselves on the elevator ride to the top floor (because, of course her room was the most expensive one, on the top floor), but once she slid that key card and the door closed behind us, we were all hands on deck—or in this case, all over each other.

"Do you still have that lightstick, baby?"

"Yeah. Where do you want it?"

"In my pussy. I want it deep inside whilst you fuck my ass some more, but before that, I want to suck your cock on the balcony." She said, grabbing my hand and leading me outside. Julie didn't waste much time, and she kneeled in front of me, fishing out my dick as she began to bob her head back and forth. Her back was against the railing, and I used that same railing for support as I forced my dick deep into Julie's throat, alternating between watching my beautiful city in the background and looking at her slutty face stuffed with cock.

What followed was long, long night where she ended up draining my cock more times than I can remember, after I fucked everywhere—from the kitchen to the balcony, from the bathroom to the bedroom, there wasn't a place we didn't use to get each other off, and we finished it all when I put my legs around her body and began brutally fucking her face into the pillow, before I pulled out and covered her entire face with my warm cum.

The following morning, she of course woke me up with the sloppiest of blowjobs, resulting in me blowing a huge load into the back of her throat, but things didn't end there. Given the fact that she didn't have any schedule for the next few weeks, Julie ended up staying in Lisbon for a while longer, and every day I would show her around the city, before going back to the hotel and pounding her over and over again until we both passed out from exhaustion.

[faebled-stories]

The Longest Month

Kinkvember Day 30: Orgasm Control/NNN

Kiss of life Natty (Anatchaya Suputtipong) x Male reader

21.8k words

AN: Last day of Kinkvember 🥹🥹 (might be a little rough on the editing, please forgive me)

Halloween night was alive with excitement. The crisp autumn air carried the sound of laughter, music, and the occasional howl of costumed revelers. Porchlights flickered over carved pumpkins, their grins twisted and glowing, while the streets buzzed with groups hopping from one party to the next. Inside your home, though, the atmosphere was calm and quiet, a comforting contrast to the chaos outside.

Natty stood by the door, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a snug sweater, her hair tied back in a way that framed her face perfectly. She smiled as she adjusted her bag over her shoulder. "I’m heading out with the girls," she said, her tone light and cheerful. "Just a little Halloween fun, nothing wild."

You nodded, a warm smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Have fun,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Call me if you need anything.”

She grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before slipping out the door. The soft click of it closing behind her left the house quiet again. For a while, you settled into the stillness, content to let the evening pass uneventfully. The trust between you was implicit—Natty had always been honest, and you’d always respected her freedom.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, an uneasy feeling began to creep in. It was subtle at first, a whisper of doubt that you tried to shake off. She’d said she was with her girlfriends. There was no reason to worry. Yet the stillness of the house suddenly felt heavy, oppressive, as if something was just slightly out of place.

The buzz of your phone snapped you out of your thoughts. You picked it up, your brow furrowing as you saw the name: a friend of yours who worked as a bartender downtown. Opening the message, your stomach tightened at the words.

“Didn’t know Natty was hitting the scene tonight. She’s here at Platinum—hard to miss in that outfit.”

You stared at the text, your mind racing. Platinum? She hadn’t said anything about going to a club. The unease bloomed into suspicion as you quickly typed back.

“What outfit?”

The response came almost instantly, and when you read it, the words landed like a punch.

“Catwoman vibes, but damn, man… It’s a lot. Skin-tight, zipper low, fake tail. People are definitely looking. ”

Your jaw clenched as you reread the message, disbelief and frustration battling for dominance. She hadn’t just gone somewhere else—she’d lied. And she was wearing something that sounded far removed from her usual playful confidence, something designed to draw attention. Strangers were ogling her.

You didn’t bother replying. The anger was cold and focused, sharpening your resolve as you grabbed your jacket. The night air bit at your skin as you stepped outside, but the chill only fueled the fire simmering in your chest. You didn’t rush, your stride purposeful as you made your way, thoughts churning.

The trust you’d built, the respect you’d shown her freedom—tonight, she’d crossed a line. And by the time you reached the glowing lights of the club, you knew exactly what needed to happen.

Platinum was everything you expected—a pulsing epicenter of energy, where music pounded through the walls and spilled onto the street. The air inside was heavy with heat, a mixture of sweat, alcohol, and perfume that clung to your skin. Strobe lights sliced through the crowd, casting fleeting glimpses of costumed bodies pressed together in a chaotic dance.

You pushed your way through the throng of people, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then you saw her.

Natty was on the dance floor, her body moving to the rhythm of the music. She wore a skintight black spandex one-piece, the zipper pulled low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Fake cat ears perched on her head, and a thin decorative tail swayed with her movements. The outfit clung to her curves like a second skin, catching the light with every turn.

She was laughing, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, her lips parted as she threw herself into the moment. Strangers circled her, their eyes lingering too long, leaning in too close. She seemed utterly carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing in you as you watched from the edge of the crowd.

She hadn’t told you about this. She hadn’t mentioned a club, or an outfit that looked like this. She had lied.

Your emotions churned—anger, disappointment, the sharp edge of control you always held carefully in balance. But you didn’t react impulsively. Instead, you moved through the crowd with purpose, your gaze fixed on her.

The crowd buzzed around her, bodies swaying in chaotic rhythm, the pulsing music drowning out everything else. Strobe lights flashed in bursts, illuminating her in snapshots—a vision of confidence and teasing allure. Her laughter was bright, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as she leaned toward a stranger who was speaking too close. The low zipper of her costume shimmered under the lights, her every move a magnet for attention.

You stepped closer, your presence cutting through the sea of people. The noise and chaos dulled in your mind, every ounce of focus fixed on her. As you approached, she didn’t notice at first, lost in the moment, the music, and the hazy buzz in her veins. But when you reached out and tapped her shoulder, everything shifted.

She turned to you, her laughter faltering. Wide eyes met yours, the realization hitting her instantly. The flush of the alcohol drained from her face, replaced by something colder—guilt, fear, and the dawning understanding of exactly what was happening. The crowd around her seemed to fade into the background, her focus locked entirely on you.

Her lips parted as though she might say something, but no words came. She froze, her body stiff, the haze of alcohol lifting just enough to make the weight of the situation clear.

“We’re going home,” you said, your voice low and steady, cutting through the music with effortless authority.

The words were simple, but their effect was immediate. Her mouth snapped shut, and she nodded quickly, her head dipping in quiet submission. You didn’t wait for her to respond further. Without another word, you turned and began walking toward the exit, not sparing her another glance, not even taking her wrist to guide her. You didn’t need to. You knew she’d follow.

Behind you, her heels clicked against the sticky floor as she scrambled to keep up, weaving through the crowd. No one around her seemed to notice the shift in her demeanor, but you could feel it. The weight of her guilt, her submission, radiated in every hurried step as she followed you out of the club without needing to be told twice.

The crisp night air hit like a slap, the stark contrast to the heat and chaos inside. It was quieter out here, the muffled thump of the music still audible but distant. The autumn chill bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. Natty stayed close, her head bowed, her breath visible in the cold air. Her fake cat ears tilted slightly to one side, askew and crooked, as if even they reflected her subdued state.

She didn’t speak, and neither did you. The silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating, a clear signal that words weren’t needed. You led the way to the car, your steps purposeful, your jaw tight. Natty trailed behind, her head low, her shoulders hunched slightly as though trying to shrink under the weight of her own guilt. It wasn’t just her steps that were submissive—it was everything about her now, the way her presence shrank under your unwavering authority.

When you reached the car, your movements were calm, almost mechanical. You walked to her side, your expression neutral as you opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated for just a moment, her wide eyes flicking up to yours, searching for some indication of what you were feeling. But you gave her nothing, your face a mask of quiet control.

She slipped into the seat silently, her body tense as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her costume. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and the stillness inside the car was oppressive. You moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in and gripping the wheel, but you didn’t start the car right away. Instead, you stared ahead, your jaw set as your thoughts churned.

From the corner of your eye, you could see her shift uncomfortably. Her breathing was uneven, her fingers gripping the fabric of her costume tightly as though it could anchor her. It was clear she was waiting, bracing herself for the storm to come. But you didn’t say a word. You let the silence stretch, thick and heavy, the weight of what had happened settling deeper over both of you.

Finally, you turned the key, the engine rumbling to life. The car pulled out onto the street, the bright lights of the club fading quickly into the rearview mirror. The ride home was long, the silence between you stretching like a taut wire, ready to snap. She glanced at you occasionally, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak, to explain, but she stopped herself each time. The tension in the air was suffocating, every unspoken word weighing her down further.

You didn’t look at her. Your gaze stayed fixed on the road, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. Her silence told you everything. She knew she had crossed a line, knew the trust you’d placed in her had been broken. And now, for the first time tonight, it seemed she understood—she wasn’t just caught. She was yours, completely.

When you arrived home, the quiet of the house was almost deafening. The faint hum of the fridge, the soft click of the front door as it shut behind you, even her hesitant footsteps on the hardwood floor—all of it felt amplified against the heavy stillness. She lingered near the entryway, her body stiff, her hands clenching at her sides. You didn’t say anything, your expression unreadable as you walked toward the living room.

Settling into the couch, you glanced at her, your eyes sharp and commanding. The weight of your gaze was enough to draw her forward, her body moving instinctively as though compelled. She sank to her knees in front of you, the skintight material of her costume creaking softly with her movement. The faint glimmer of the fabric caught the low light of the room, but her focus was entirely on you.

Her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her breaths came shallow and uneven as she knelt there, waiting for your words, knowing that whatever came next would be entirely in your hands.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. You leaned back slightly, your arms crossed, letting her squirm under the weight of your gaze. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The subtle tilt of her cat ears seemed to mirror the unease radiating off her as she knelt before you, unable to meet your eyes.

“Explain,” you said finally, your voice low and sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Her head snapped up for just a moment, her wide, guilty eyes meeting yours before darting away again. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t think you’d let me go if I told you about the party. I thought you’d get mad about the outfit, about the people—so I lied.”

Her hands moved restlessly, fidgeting at the zipper of her costume, the nervous gesture small but telling. Her shoulders were tense, her entire posture shrinking under the intensity of your silence. She hesitated before speaking again, her voice growing quieter, more fragile. “It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t… trying to hide anything important.”

You let the words hang in the air, your expression unchanging as she squirmed. Her breathing hitched, her body trembling slightly as the weight of your silence pressed down on her. Her lip quivered, and she blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“That’s not the point,” you said finally, your voice cold and deliberate. “It’s not about the outfit. It’s not about the party. It’s about trust. And you broke it.”

Her shoulders slumped further, her head bowing again as the full weight of your words hit her. She nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

“When,” you asked, leaning forward slightly, “have I ever not let you go anywhere?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and glassy. The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stared at you as though searching for the answer herself. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“When have I forbidden you from wearing the most revealing outfits?” Your voice softened slightly, but the disappointment still lingered in your tone. “When, Natty? Tell me.”

Her lips trembled, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “You haven’t,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely reached you.

You nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in for her. “Exactly. I’ve always let you make your own choices. Always given you permission. And yet, you still lied to me. Why?”

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled, rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I… I don’t know,” she choked out, her hands gripping the hem of her costume tightly. “I was stupid. I didn’t want you to be mad, and I—” She broke off, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. “I’m sorry.” The words were fragile, so faint you almost missed them, and yet they carried the guilt and regret that were written across her face.

You sighed deeply, letting the moment stretch, the weight of her guilt hanging between you like a tangible presence. Her fidgeting hands, the way her eyes darted to the floor, her lips trembling with barely spoken words—it all told you that she knew the gravity of what she’d done. And yet, the lesson needed to be clear. Trust wasn’t just something taken lightly in your dynamic; it was the foundation upon which everything else rested.

You considered your options carefully, your mind cycling through potential punishments, discarding each one almost as quickly as it appeared. Something physical? No, that wouldn’t linger in the way you needed it to. Silence? Distance? Those would create tension, but not the kind that would truly drive the lesson home. Then, like a light flickering on, the perfect answer surfaced—a punishment so fitting it almost seemed like the universe had handed it to you on a silver platter.

No Nut November.

The trend was a joke to most, a playful challenge making its rounds on the internet. But for Natty, it would be anything but playful. You knew her intimately, perhaps better than she even knew herself. Her teasing confidence, her constant craving for closeness, her love for release—it was part of who she was. Denying her that for an entire month wasn’t just a punishment. It was a torment. Something she would dread deeply and feel every moment of every day. And the timing was flawless.

Your lips curved into a faint smirk as you settled your gaze on her. She hadn’t dared to meet your eyes, her hands twisting nervously at the hem of her skirt as though trying to anchor herself. You let the silence stretch, letting the weight of the moment build until it felt almost suffocating. Then, your voice broke the stillness, calm and deliberate.

“If you’d been honest,” you began slowly, your tone measured, each word sinking deep, “I would have let you go. I wouldn’t have cared about the outfit, the party, or the people. But you lied, Natty. And now, there are consequences.”

Her head snapped up, her wide, fearful eyes locking onto yours. You saw the desperation there, the faint tremor in her lower lip as her mind raced to catch up with your words. “Consequences?” she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper, the word trembling on her lips as though she were afraid to give it shape.

You straightened in your seat, the decision crystallizing as you delivered it with calm finality. “You’re going a month without cumming,” you said simply. “Starting now.”

Her reaction was immediate. She flinched as though struck, her lips parting in shock, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. “A… a month?” she stammered, her voice pitching higher, the disbelief and panic unmistakable. “No—please, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that—please!”

You raised a hand, the gesture silencing her instantly. Her mouth snapped shut, her breath catching audibly as her wide eyes remained locked on you, pleading silently. “No exceptions,” you said firmly, your voice steady, brooking no argument. “This isn’t just about the lie. It’s about trust. Trust needs to be earned back.”

For a moment, she was frozen, her chest heaving as she stared at you, her mind clearly working to process the weight of what you’d said. Then, slowly, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze dropped to the floor. The first tears shimmered in her eyes, catching the light, but she held them back with visible effort.

Her voice was small, trembling with guilt and something deeper—fear. “I… I understand,” she whispered, the words fragile and full of resignation.

“Good.” Your tone softened just slightly, enough to let her know you weren’t angry anymore, though the weight of your authority remained. “Go to the bedroom. We’re done here.”

She stood slowly, her movements hesitant and stiff, as though her body were fighting against her mind’s compliance. The faint click of her heels on the hardwood floor was the only sound as she retreated down the hallway. Her posture was smaller than usual, her confident aura replaced by something subdued, vulnerable. There was no defiance in her steps, no attempt to bargain further—only quiet acceptance of her fate.

As she disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of rustling sheets filtering back to you, you let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. The tension in your chest eased slightly, replaced by a calm satisfaction. You weren’t angry anymore. This wasn’t about revenge or punishment for its own sake. It was about re-establishing the foundation that held everything together—trust.

You sank into the couch, the weight of the moment settling over you like a heavy blanket. The balance you’d struck was delicate, but you knew it was necessary. Natty needed this, not just to understand the gravity of her actions but to grow from it. Deep down, you knew she would.

-----

The first few days passed in an uneasy stillness. The house, once filled with Natty’s teasing comments and playful laughter, now seemed quieter, the air heavier. Her usual spark had dimmed, her presence muted in a way that was both unfamiliar and telling. She moved through the rooms carefully, her steps softer, her gaze lowered whenever she passed you. It wasn’t fear—far from it. It was something deeper: submission edged with guilt.

She stayed busy, as though keeping her hands occupied would prevent her thoughts from spiraling. She fetched your coffee before you asked, setting it down with a barely audible, “Here you go.” She folded blankets that didn’t need folding, straightened things that were already straight, her hands fidgeting when there was nothing left to do. Her movements were deliberate, every action laced with a quiet hope that her obedience might earn her reprieve.

When she thought you weren’t watching, she allowed herself quick glances in your direction, her eyes searching for any hint of forgiveness. But when you met her gaze, her expression flickered, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. She brushed against your side tentatively in passing, her fingers grazing your arm or shoulder as if testing the waters. Each time, you remained composed, offering no indication that her efforts were noticed.

The absence of reaction clearly unsettled her. For a moment, it almost seemed like she thought you’d forgotten about her punishment. But even then, the unspoken tension lingered between you, a quiet hum that grew louder with every passing hour.

By the third day, the shift in her behavior was undeniable. The subtle signs of restlessness began to creep in. She wrung her hands more often, her fingers twisting and untwisting as she tried to channel her growing nervous energy. When she sat, her knees bounced slightly, her body refusing to stay still. Her cheeks flushed more frequently, a faint pink that deepened whenever you entered the room. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the need was beginning to stir—a slow, creeping sensation she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It was most evident when you were close to her. In the kitchen, as you stood near her to reach for something, she froze momentarily, the proximity sending a jolt through her. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to keep them occupied with a dish she was already drying.

“Something wrong?” you asked casually, your voice calm but pointed.

“N-no,” she stammered quickly, shaking her head. Her cheeks burned, and she turned away, her movements stiff as she set the dish down. She didn’t look at you, but the tension in her posture told you everything.

Later that evening, as you sat on the couch reading, she lingered in the doorway, clearly uncertain about what to do. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. When she finally stepped forward, she stopped a few feet away, her voice hesitant.

“Do you… need anything?” she asked softly, her words laced with hope.

You didn’t look up, turning a page instead. “No,” you said simply, your tone neutral.

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she nodded, retreating back to the other room. The disappointment in her expression was brief, but it was there. You watched her go, noting the way her hands brushed against her thighs, as though grounding herself against the slow, creeping need she hadn’t yet put a name to.

As the hours stretched into night, the tension in her body became more visible. When she settled into bed, she shifted restlessly beneath the sheets, her breathing uneven. The faint sound of the fabric rustling was the only indication of her growing discomfort, but it was enough to bring a faint smirk to your lips. She wasn’t fully aware of it yet, but the punishment was beginning to take root. It was slow, deliberate, and exactly as it was meant to be.

Deep down, Natty must have known it too. But she clung to a fragile hope—a thought that if she waited long enough, if she behaved perfectly, you might let it pass without incident. It was wishful thinking, and you could see in her eyes that she already knew the truth.

It was late one evening, the kind of night where the house seemed to hum with a stillness that amplified every creak, every shift in the air. You stepped through the door, the long day weighing on your shoulders, your muscles tight with tension. The faint scent of Natty’s perfume greeted you before the soft shuffle of her footsteps reached your ears. She appeared in the entryway, her eyes bright but edged with a nervous energy that seemed to hover around her like a second skin.

Her smile was warm but hesitant, her hands clasped in front of her as if holding herself in place. She moved closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your arm as she reached for your coat. “Welcome home,” she murmured, her voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You nodded, a soft grunt of acknowledgment as you shrugged off your coat. The day’s weight still clung to you, the dull ache in your chest begging for rest. Before you could fully step past her, she moved again, her hand resting lightly on your chest. Then her lips brushed yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a whisper of warmth against the chill of the day. Her hands stayed light, one on your chest, the other grazing your shoulder, her body leaning in closer. For a moment, you let her, the subtle press of her mouth drawing you into the moment. She tasted faintly of mint, her lips warm and pliant as the kiss deepened.

She didn’t stop there. Her movements grew bolder, her body pressing flush against yours as her hands began to move. They trailed down to the edges of your collar, her fingertips brushing along your neck before drifting to the first button of your shirt. Her lips parted slightly, her breath mingling with yours, hot and heavy with quiet desperation. The faintest whimper escaped her throat as she tilted her head, pressing harder into the kiss, pouring everything into it.

You let her guide you toward the couch, her steps slow but deliberate. The kiss stayed connected, her lips never leaving yours as she coaxed you backward until the edge of the cushions met the back of your legs. You sank down, and she followed, her knees sliding on either side of your lap as she straddled you. Her hands moved more urgently now, gripping your shirt, her nails scraping lightly against the fabric as her hips shifted just enough to press her body closer.

She kissed you like she was unraveling, her fingers trembling slightly as she worked on the buttons of your shirt. Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling against yours. For her, the rest of the world had disappeared—there was only you, the connection between you, and the fleeting hope that she could escape the boundaries you had set. Her need was palpable, her body leaning into yours with a quiet desperation that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

Then she reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers curling around the loose fabric and tugging it upward slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. The motion was subtle, almost hesitant, but it carried with it an unspoken plea. It wasn’t calculated—just instinct, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the quiet tension and the simmering need she felt.

And just like that, the moment shifted.

You pulled back, your movement deliberate, breaking the kiss with a soft, almost imperceptible sound. Her breath caught audibly, her lips hovering in the space where yours had been, the warmth of you replaced by a cool absence that felt more striking than any words you could have spoken.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her expression flickered with confusion. Slowly, realization dawned, her cheeks flushing as she started to pull back further. Before she could, you pressed a hand gently to her shoulder—not harsh, but firm enough to still her completely.

“You’re still on punishment,” you said, your tone calm and measured, like a quiet storm.

Her lips parted slightly, a faint sound escaping them, almost like an aborted protest. Her gaze darted downward, her fingers loosening their hold on your shirt. “I wasn’t—” she started, her voice faltering. “I just thought—maybe if…”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting as her words trailed off into nothing. The faint blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady herself. “I didn’t mean to push,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Your hand left her shoulder, and you leaned back slightly, studying her. The tension in her posture betrayed her unease, though she stayed seated in your lap, her legs tucked to either side of you. Her lips pressed together faintly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“You thought what?” you asked after a beat, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. “That I’d just forget the boundaries I’ve set? That I’d let this slide?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly, her breathing uneven. “No,” she admitted softly. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d…” She didn’t finish the sentence, her words dissolving into silence.

You watched her carefully, the weight of your gaze enough to keep her still. After a moment, you guided her gently off your lap. She slid to the floor without resistance, her knees brushing the rug as she sank down in front of you. Her head dipped slightly, her posture shrinking as the realization of her overstep settled in.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

You stood, the couch creaking softly as you rose. Without another word, you stepped past her, your movements calm and deliberate. The sound of your footsteps faded as you left her kneeling there, the room suddenly feeling much emptier than before.

She didn’t move, her knees rooted to the spot, her hands resting limply in her lap. Her lips still tingled faintly from the kiss, a reminder of what had been taken away. Even as she stared at the space where you’d been, she couldn’t shake the growing realization: this wasn’t just a punishment. It was a reminder that, no matter what she thought she wanted, you were still in control.

-----

The days stretched into weeks, each one blurring into the next as Natty’s punishment continued. She tried to keep herself busy, focusing on tasks that didn’t need doing—organizing drawers, folding laundry that didn’t need folding—but it wasn’t long before the edges of her composure began to fray. The need was slow, insidious, creeping into her thoughts in moments of stillness until it was all-consuming.

Her usual spark had dulled, replaced by a quiet, simmering tension that followed her everywhere. She hovered near you constantly, her movements soft but deliberate, as though being close to you might ease the ache inside her. Every time you passed, her breath caught, and her gaze lingered on you, her wide eyes betraying the growing desperation she tried so hard to keep hidden.

You caught her once standing in the doorway, her hand resting against the frame as she watched you from a distance. When your eyes met, she flushed, her lips parting as though to say something, but no words came. Instead, she turned away quickly, her shoulders tight with frustration, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet house.

But it wasn’t just the way she lingered. Her body betrayed her in other ways. The subtle tremor in her hands when she handed you your coffee, the way her fingers brushed against yours just a little too long, the way she bit her lip whenever you were close. She moved with an air of quiet submission, her every action laced with the unspoken hope that her obedience might draw you closer, might break the walls of the punishment you’d set.

You didn’t respond. You stayed composed, calm, offering no indication that you even noticed. And it drove her mad.

One evening, you stepped into the bedroom to find Natty perched on the edge of the bed. Her body was tense, shoulders hunched forward as though trying to fold into herself. In her hands, she clutched one of your shirts. The loose fabric was balled tightly, her knuckles whitening from the grip. She raised it to her face, burying her nose in it as her eyes fluttered closed. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, trembling breaths, the motion betraying her quiet desperation.

As she inhaled deeply, the faintest of shudders coursed through her body. The scent was faint but unmistakable—yours. It seemed to wrap around her, filling her senses with a comfort that only deepened the ache inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the shirt, her grip almost possessive, as though letting go would sever her last tether to reality.

Her mind was a swirl of emotion. The warmth of your scent grounded her, but it also made her keenly aware of how much she missed you, how much she craved what she’d been denied. The ache in her chest spread downward, settling low in her belly, where it twisted and coiled into something almost unbearable. She didn’t know if the shirt soothed her or made the longing worse. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop herself.

Her lips parted slightly, a soft, shaky exhale escaping as she took another deep breath. The blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading to her neck and ears, as her thoughts spiraled. She hated how much she needed this—how much she needed you. The vulnerability stung, but she couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop herself from clinging to the one thing that made her feel closer to you.

“Natty.”

Your voice cut through the quiet like a blade, sharp and firm. Her head snapped up instantly, her wide eyes locking onto yours. The guilt hit her like a wave, and her hands jerked as though the shirt had suddenly burned her. It slipped from her fingers, falling to her lap, but the stain of her actions remained etched across her flushed features.

“I… I wasn’t—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she scrambled to her feet. Her hands fumbled at the fabric in her lap, twisting it nervously as her gaze darted to the floor. The crimson in her cheeks deepened, and her breathing turned uneven, a telltale sign of the storm raging inside her.

You didn’t move, your calm, steady presence only intensifying her discomfort. You didn’t need to say anything else. The silence pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating. She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping as she lowered her head in submission. The weight of your authority hung in the air, undeniable and absolute, until it crushed what little resolve she had left.

For the rest of the week, the cracks in her composure deepened. She lingered near you constantly, finding excuses to hover in your space. When you moved from one room to another, she followed quietly, her steps soft but deliberate. She never said much, but her presence was loud enough. When you passed her, her hand would brush against you, just lightly, as though testing your reaction. When you stood still for too long, she drifted closer, her breath hitching every time you turned in her direction.

Her need became a part of everything she did. The way her eyes flicked toward you incessantly, searching for any sign of indulgence. The subtle way her body leaned toward yours instinctively, drawn by a gravitational pull she couldn’t fight. She stopped trying to hide it—her longing was written into every motion, every glance, every trembling breath.

By the second week, it consumed her completely. Her confidence crumbled under the weight of her desperation, leaving her raw and exposed. Even her voice, when she dared to speak, carried the faintest quaver, as though each word threatened to betray her. The ache was no longer confined to moments of stillness; it was a constant presence, burning beneath her skin, coiling low in her belly, and leaving her trembling.

-----

Natty sat at home one day, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, trying to distract herself from the relentless need that had consumed her for weeks. Her body felt like a tightly coiled spring, every small movement amplifying the ache that lingered low in her belly. The sound of her phone buzzing startled her, and she glanced at the screen.

"Bedroom by the time I’m home. Naked."

The simplicity of the message made her heart race. Her fingers gripped the phone tightly as she reread the words, the weight of your command settling over her like a heavy blanket. Her breath hitched, and a nervous tremor coursed through her. She didn’t even need to think—her body moved on instinct.

She stood quickly, her hands trembling as she began to undress. Each piece of clothing she removed felt like shedding a layer of protection, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. The cool air of the house kissed her bare skin, sending a shiver up her spine. By the time she reached the bed, her heart was pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

Kneeling, she positioned herself carefully, her body already quivering with a mix of nervous anticipation and lingering need. She rested on all fours, her breathing uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she waited. The silence of the house felt deafening, the seconds stretching into eternity. She couldn’t help the thoughts that raced through her mind: Would this be her release? Would you finally touch her, grant her the relief she craved? Or would this be another lesson in patience, another test of her endurance?

The sound of the front door opening made her freeze. Her breath caught, her body tensing as she listened to your deliberate movements. The faint rustle of your belongings being set down sent a thrill through her, each noise heightening her anticipation. She stayed perfectly still, her hands gripping the sheets lightly, her heart threatening to leap from her chest.

When your footsteps finally approached the bedroom, she felt the weight of your presence before you even spoke. The door opened, and your gaze swept over her. She didn’t dare lift her head, but she felt the heat of your eyes on her bare skin. Her body trembled under your scrutiny, the vulnerability making her both anxious and exhilarated.

“Stand up,” your voice broke the silence, calm but commanding.

She rose immediately, though her legs wobbled slightly as she obeyed. She felt utterly exposed under your watchful eyes, her arms twitching as though to cover herself, but she stopped. Your steady gaze and the faint shake of your head froze her in place. Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to shield herself.

“Bathroom,” you instructed, your tone firm and leaving no room for argument. “Stay still.”

Natty moved quickly, her bare feet making no sound as she positioned herself in the bathroom doorway. Her body was taut with nervous energy, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides as she worked to follow your command. Her breathing was already shallow, her lips parted, and her wide eyes tracked your every move.

You began to undress deliberately, unhurried, letting her watch. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as you slid your shirt from your shoulders, revealing the defined lines of your chest. Her gaze clung to you, her lips pressing together as her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. When your hands moved to your belt, her eyes followed like a magnet, locking onto the motion with an intensity that sent a faint flush across her cheeks.

As you stepped out of your pants, she froze completely. Her gaze darted lower, landing on the growing outline beneath your boxers, and her breath caught audibly. She tried to pull her eyes away, but they kept flicking back, lingering with a desperation she could no longer hide. It was as though everything else in the room had vanished, her world narrowing to just you—your movements, your body, and the aching need she felt burning inside her.

You stepped into the shower without a word, the sound of water cascading over your skin breaking the silence. The steam began to fill the room, curling around her, but her attention never wavered. The glass doors left nothing to the imagination, and her eyes locked onto you again, trailing down your chest to your stomach, and then lower.

Her breathing grew heavier, each rise and fall of her chest more pronounced as her thighs shifted subtly. She pressed them together, a faint, instinctive movement that she clearly hoped would go unnoticed. But it didn’t. You saw every motion, every tremor that betrayed how much effort it took for her to stand still.

“Still,” you said, your voice firm but calm, cutting through the thick haze of her longing.

Her legs froze immediately, though her body trembled slightly with the strain of holding herself back. Her gaze flicked up to your face briefly, an almost guilty glance, before dropping again. It didn’t take long for her eyes to return to the same place, fixed on the growing evidence of your arousal.

The effort to control herself was evident in every line of her frame. Her hands flexed at her sides, her fingers curling and uncurling as though fighting the urge to reach out. Her lips parted again, a faint, shaky exhale escaping as her gaze remained fixed, unable to look away.

When you turned slightly, letting the water run down your back, she shifted almost imperceptibly. Her chest rose and fell quicker now, her thighs pressing together again, the motion more noticeable this time. The faintest glisten of sweat began to form on her skin, mixing with the steam around her, as though her body were reacting to a heat only she could feel.

After finishing your shower, you stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around your waist. Her eyes followed the motion, flicking downward for just a second too long. When you reached for another towel to dry your hair, her gaze returned, locking onto the outline beneath the fabric.

Her breathing hitched audibly, and she swallowed hard, her throat working visibly. She wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore—her need radiated off her in waves, the desperation plain in the way her lips pressed together, her body trembling with restraint.

“Back to the bed,” you said, your tone steady.

She turned quickly, her body moving as though it could barely keep up with the frantic pace of her mind. Every step toward the bedroom echoed with the quiet desperation she could no longer hide. As she lay back on the bed, her movements were both eager and hesitant, her hands twitching at her sides as though fighting the urge to reach out and pull you closer. Her breathing was shallow, each inhale trembling slightly, her chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms.

When you joined her, her heart raced, the anticipation almost unbearable. Was this it? Had her obedience finally earned her a reprieve? The thought flickered through her mind like a fragile spark, and she clung to it desperately. Maybe this is his way of letting me off early, she thought. Maybe I’ve been good enough.

You didn’t speak, but the weight of your gaze on her was intoxicating. Her body reacted instinctively, her legs parting slightly as you shifted closer. When your hand started at her knee, trailing upward along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, her breath hitched audibly. Her thighs parted further, almost of their own accord, inviting your touch. Her skin quivered beneath your fingers, every nerve ending coming alive as you moved deliberately, your strokes maddeningly slow and controlled.

She bit her lip, a soft whine escaping her as her hips shifted slightly toward your hand, seeking more. Her need was evident now, radiating off her in waves, but the moment her movement betrayed her impatience, you stopped. Your eyes narrowed, and the sternness in your gaze was enough to freeze her in place.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and even.

The praise sent a visible shiver through her. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body reacted involuntarily. A faint sheen of wetness betrayed her growing arousal, glistening faintly in the dim light of the room. The ache inside her deepened, spreading like fire through her veins, and the thought of finally being allowed to release burned brighter in her mind.

Your fingers trailed closer, brushing along the edge of her folds with maddening precision. You never gave her exactly what she needed, staying just millimeters away, the teasing strokes pushing her closer to the edge without letting her fall. Her breaths grew shallow, her chest heaving as her back arched slightly off the bed.

She whimpered, the sound barely audible but filled with a desperation that was impossible to ignore. Her slickness spread, catching the light, her body leaking uncontrollably as her arousal built to a fever pitch.

And then, just as your fingers hovered over the place where her need was most concentrated, you pulled away.

The gasp that escaped her was almost a sob. Her hips jerked upward reflexively, as though her body couldn’t accept the sudden absence of your touch. Her eyes snapped open, wide and pleading, the longing in them unrestrained. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, her lips trembling as though she might beg. But the sternness in your gaze silenced whatever words she might have been about to say.

“Go to sleep,” you said, your voice calm and final.

Her heart sank, the weight of your command hitting her like a tidal wave. She stared at you for a long moment, her body frozen, her lips parting slightly as though to protest. But she caught herself, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she nodded shakily. Slowly, she sank back against the mattress, her body sinking into the sheets as though the effort to fight was too much.

You lay down beside her, the bed shifting slightly under your weight. The warmth of your body was close enough to feel but impossibly far from the relief she craved. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling in trembling rhythms as her legs shifted restlessly beneath the sheets. She pressed her thighs together, her hips rocking slightly in a futile attempt to ease the tension that burned through her like wildfire.

Her eyes fluttered closed, though she knew sleep would be impossible. Her body pulsed with frustration, every nerve ending alight with unfulfilled desire. She could still feel the ghost of your touch on her skin, the teasing brush of your fingers that had come so maddeningly close.

Beside her, you remained composed, your breathing calm, your presence steady and unattainable. The quiet was oppressive, the tension between you palpable as the minutes stretched into hours.

Her mind spiraled as reality sank in—this wasn’t relief. It wasn’t a reprieve. It was another lesson in control, another reminder of who held the power. And as her body burned with the ache of denial, the truth became inescapable: tonight wouldn’t bring her release. It would only deepen the longing that consumed her.

-----

The final week of November arrived, and Natty was barely holding it together. The days had grown heavier, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours as her body and mind simmered with unrelenting tension. The month-long denial had pushed her to her limits, leaving her restless and sensitive to every touch, every glance, every moment in your presence. This wasn’t just a punishment—it was a slow unraveling, and the last week felt like it might break her entirely.

By mid-afternoon, as she paced through the kitchen for the third time that day, her phone buzzed on the counter, cutting through the quiet. She grabbed it quickly, her heart giving a small jolt as she saw the group chat lighting up.

“Eclipse tonight! Drinks on me. You’re coming, right?” Belle’s message was followed by a string of emojis, the energy infectious even through the screen. Natty’s gaze lingered on the words as more messages poured in.

“You better not flake again, Natty!” Julie added with a laughing emoji.

“I’m wearing heels for the first time in a year for this. Be there. No excuses!” chimed Haneul.

The idea of going out with her friends, laughing and dancing the night away, was tempting. For a brief moment, she imagined herself letting loose, the music drowning out her thoughts, her body moving freely in the dim lights of the club. It sounded perfect—exactly what she needed.

And yet, something held her back.

Her gaze lifted from the phone to the living room, where you sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone with your usual calm demeanor. She watched you for a moment, her chest tightening with a strange sense of unease. The thought of leaving the house, of being away from you, felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t fear, exactly—more like a quiet, unshakable pull to stay near you, as though the distance would only amplify the ache she already felt.

Her phone buzzed again, breaking her thoughts. “Natty, don’t make me beg! 😘 Eclipse is calling your name!” Belle was relentless, as always.

Natty paced the kitchen, her fingers tightening around her phone as her thoughts churned. Her friends wouldn’t understand. They’d tell her she was overthinking it, that a night out was exactly what she needed. But they didn’t know what she was going through. They didn’t know how the last few weeks had left her raw and vulnerable, every nerve in her body on edge. And they didn’t understand the quiet, powerful pull that kept her close to you.

Summoning her courage, she stepped into the living room. “My friends want me to go out,” she said, her voice soft and uncertain.

You looked up briefly, meeting her gaze with an easy calm. “Sure,” you replied, your tone steady. “Go if you want.”

The simplicity of your answer caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her lips parting in surprise. She had expected… something else. Guidance, hesitation, maybe even a hint of disapproval. Instead, your response was so casual, so sincere, it left her more conflicted than ever.

“You’re… okay with it?” she asked, her tone cautious.

“Of course,” you said, your expression neutral. “If you want to go, you should.”

Natty blinked, caught between disbelief and confusion. Her gaze searched your face, looking for any trace of hesitation, but found none. The ease of your answer left her more conflicted than before, and a strange pang of guilt settled in her chest.

“Really? You don’t mind?” she pressed, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her persistence. “I don’t mind, Natty. It’s your decision.”

She nodded slowly, retreating a few steps to sit on the chair across from you. Her phone buzzed again, her friends filling the group chat with plans for the night. Outfits, drinks, excitement—it was all there, pulling her in. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing out a reply only to erase it again.

She glanced back at you. “You’re… really okay with me going?” she asked again, her voice even softer this time.

You met her gaze evenly. “I said I was. It’s your call, Natty.”

The finality in your words settled over her like a weight. The decision was hers—fully, completely hers—and yet the idea of leaving felt wrong. Her chest tightened, her stomach knotting with a mix of frustration and longing she couldn’t quite place.

With a deep breath, she typed: “Can’t make it, sorry.”

Her finger hovered over the send button, the decision catching in her chest for just a moment before she pressed it. The message disappeared into the chat, and a strange mix of relief and frustration flooded her.

When she looked back at you, she couldn’t help but ask one last time, “You’re really not upset?”

You glanced at her, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Not at all,” you said simply, returning your attention to your phone.

The sincerity in your tone surprised her, and she sank back into the chair, her phone now dark in her hand. The quiet buzz of the house resumed, but her mind was still spinning. She had made the decision herself—without pressure, without guidance—and as unsettling as that was, a small part of her felt… content.

The thought of staying near you, of not letting that distance grow, settled warmly in her chest. And as she sat there, the sound of your steady breathing grounding her, she knew she’d made the choice she truly wanted.

-----

The evening had settled in, darkness blanketing the world outside as the soft glow of a table lamp cast warm light across the living room. The house was quiet, a serene contrast to the distant hum of the night’s activity beyond the walls. You sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels, the faint murmur of the television filling the stillness. The simplicity of the moment was grounding, a calm that belied the tension that had simmered between you and Natty over the past weeks.

She lingered in the doorway, hesitant but drawn to you, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand. She hadn’t left the house since your conversation, her friends’ messages still buzzing occasionally in the background, unanswered. Finally, gathering her courage, she stepped into the room, her footsteps soft against the hardwood.

You glanced up from the remote, your eyes meeting hers. Her expression was conflicted, a mix of vulnerability and determination. “Why didn’t you go with your friends?” you asked, your tone calm but curious.

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I…” Her voice faltered for a moment before she took a deep breath. “I just… didn’t feel like going,” she said, though the truth was far more layered. Her eyes darted away, betraying the nerves she tried to suppress.

Your gaze stayed steady, unyielding, as you leaned back slightly. “That’s not an answer, Natty,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “Tell me the truth.”

Her shoulders stiffened for a moment before she relented, her gaze flickering back to yours. “I wanted to stay here,” she admitted softly, her cheeks warming with a faint blush. “With you.”

The simplicity of her words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now. For a moment, you didn’t respond, letting the weight of her confession linger. Then, slowly, the faintest smile curved your lips, a warm, genuine expression that made her shoulders relax slightly.

“Come here,” you said, your voice steady but soft, a quiet command that carried more weight than the words alone. “Sit on my lap.”

Natty appeared almost immediately, her movements automatic, her body responding before her mind could process. She climbed onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours as she settled against you. The heat of her body radiated through her clothes, her breathing already shallow as your hands found her waist, grounding her.

Your hands didn’t linger long. They slid upward, brushing over the curve of her chest, and she gasped softly, her back arching slightly into your touch. There was no hesitation in the way you began to knead her, your fingers flexing firmly through the thin fabric of her shirt. She let out a soft whimper, her body reacting to every squeeze, her head tilting forward as though offering herself completely.

“Take it off,” you murmured, your voice low but firm.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She discarded it to the floor, her chest now bare, rising and falling with her quickened breaths. The faint flush across her skin deepened as your eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her exposed form.

Your hands moved back to her now-bare chest, your palms warm against her skin as you groped her fully. She gasped again, louder this time, the sound breaking into a soft moan as your thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks of her nipples. Her hips shifted instinctively against you, the motion subtle but telling, her body betraying the growing wetness between her legs.

Your lips followed your hands, pressing softly against her neck before trailing lower. The faint scent of her skin filled your senses, sweet and intoxicating as you kissed along her collarbone. She tilted her head back, giving you full access, her body trembling as your mouth continued its slow descent.

When your lips finally closed around one of her nipples, her reaction was immediate. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her back arched. You alternated between gentle licks and firmer pressure, your tongue swirling in deliberate, teasing circles. Your other hand remained on her chest, squeezing and kneading with steady precision, while your thumb flicked against the neglected peak.

Her breathing grew erratic, her soft gasps turning into moans as her head tilted forward again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whimpered. “Please…” The word was barely audible, trembling with desperation as her body pressed closer to yours.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you bit down lightly, your teeth grazing against her nipple before soothing the skin with your tongue. Her whole body jolted, her thighs clenching around your lap as another moan escaped her lips. Your free hand slid lower, gripping her hip firmly to keep her steady as her movements grew more frantic.

The wetness between her legs became impossible to ignore, the faint sound of her arousal audible as her hips shifted against you. She was trembling now, completely lost in the moment, her body responding instinctively to every touch, every kiss, every firm squeeze of your hands.

“God,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as her nails raked lightly against your shoulders. “I can’t—”

“Shhh,” you murmured against her skin, your voice low and commanding. “You can.”

Your mouth returned to her chest, alternating between each peak, your tongue and teeth teasing her with perfect precision. She was leaking now, her arousal spreading across the thin fabric of her panties, soaking through to the point where you could feel the dampness against your lap.

Just as she seemed ready to tip over the edge, her hips pressing harder against you, her chest arching fully into your mouth, you pulled back.

The sudden absence of your touch left her gasping, her eyes snapping open in disbelief. Her lips parted, trembling as though she might beg, but the look in your eyes stopped her. Her body stilled, though her thighs continued to tremble, the tension coiling tighter inside her with every second of denial.

You leaned back into the couch, a faint smirk playing on your lips as you let your gaze linger on her flushed skin, the evidence of her arousal impossible to miss.

“You know what I want.” you said, your voice calm but edged with quiet authority. 

Her breath hitched audibly, her wide, hazy eyes meeting yours. There was no hesitation now. She shifted off your lap, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to your shorts. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down slowly, her lips parting as her focus shifted entirely to you.

As the fabric slid away, revealing the full length of you, Natty's breath hitched audibly. Her gaze locked on you, her wide eyes taking in every inch with unabashed admiration. No matter how many times she saw you like this, she could never fully get over it—the sheer size, the thickness, the way it was always all for her. Her tongue darted out reflexively, wetting her lips as though in anticipation, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

The faint musk of your arousal filled the air, heady and intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Her thighs pressed together, an unconscious response to the ache that flared inside her. When her eyes opened again, they were darker, her pupils blown wide with longing, her lips trembling slightly as she leaned closer.

Her fingers hovered hesitantly before curling around your base, the warmth of her touch sending a faint tremor through her own body. She brought her face closer, her nose brushing lightly against you as she took in your scent again, the rawness of it making her exhale shakily. It consumed her thoughts, every nerve ending alight as the need within her grew unbearable.

For a moment, she lingered there, caught in the haze of her desire, her tongue hovering just above you. Her nails bit softly into your thigh as her other hand rose to her chest, cupping the soft weight of her breast. Then, as though steeling herself, she straightened slightly, her fingers squeezing her softness as she pressed her chest together.

Tilting her head, she let a long string of spit fall onto your shaft, the warm slickness trailing down slowly. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, each moment stretching with intent as her hands guided her breasts to encase you. The soft, pliant warmth of her skin enveloped your length, her grip firm but yielding as she began to move.

Up and down, her chest stroked along you in a smooth, rhythmic motion, the slickness making every movement glide effortlessly. Her breaths grew heavier, her lips parting as a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead. Glancing up, she caught your gaze, her expression a mix of eagerness and awe.

You exhaled deeply, the faintest hint of a groan escaping your lips, and the sound sent a shiver rippling through her. The reaction was electric—Natty’s pace quickened, her movements more determined as her confidence grew. She pressed her breast more firmly against you, adjusting her angle slightly, the friction amplifying the sensations with every pass of her soft skin.

Each brush of her curves against your length elicited a flicker of pleasure across your face, and the sight of it spurred her on. The faint flush that painted her cheeks deepened as her own arousal grew with each passing second. She could feel the dampness between her thighs spreading, the sticky warmth soaking her panties, making the fabric cling to her skin uncomfortably. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking relief she couldn’t allow herself, but she didn’t stop. She wouldn’t. This was for you.

Leaning lower, she brought her face closer, her warm breath ghosting across your tip. Her lips brushed against you, feather-light, a teasing touch that made her breath hitch. For a brief moment, she hovered there, as if savoring the anticipation, before parting her lips and taking the head into her mouth. Her tongue flicked out, circling in slow, deliberate movements that sent jolts of sensation through you. All the while, her chest continued its rhythmic motion, enveloping you in warmth and softness.

Her lips worked in tandem with her breasts, creating an intoxicating combination of sensations. The wet heat of her mouth, the slick pressure of her curves, the eager swirl of her tongue—it was almost overwhelming. Her pace grew more fervent, the urgency in her actions reflecting your mounting tension. She could feel your body responding, the slight tensing of your thighs beneath her hands, the subtle shift in your breathing as it became uneven.

Her own breathing quickened, her moans muffled around your shaft as her arousal reached a fever pitch. Each motion, each sound you made, fueled her further, her movements becoming bolder. She pushed herself harder, faster, the rhythm of her chest and the pressure of her lips in perfect sync. Her thighs quivered, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment.

You groaned deeply, the sound low and primal, vibrating through the air as your hips bucked slightly in response to her movements. Your hands gripped the couch tightly, the pleasure cresting as your breathing turned ragged. “I’m cumming,” you growled, your voice thick with urgency, each word a raw admission of the overwhelming sensation.

Natty’s eyes flicked up to you briefly, her pupils blown wide as she heard the words. A soft, needy whimper escaped her lips, her movements quickening as if she wanted to savor every moment of your release. Her arousal was palpable now, radiating off her in waves. She could feel the wetness between her thighs pooling, soaking through the thin fabric of her panties as the ache inside her reached a fever pitch.

Your body tensed, and the first thick rope of warmth hit her face, splashing across her cheeks and lips. She gasped softly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation registered. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling as the heat of it spread across her skin.

The next wave followed, coating her chest in hot streaks that dripped slowly downward. The sheer amount startled her, her hands faltering momentarily as she adjusted, her fingers instinctively brushing through the mess. Her body reacted instinctively, her thighs pressing together as another involuntary wave of arousal coursed through her. The heat radiating from her own skin was unbearable, her breath shaky as she let out another quiet, trembling moan.

Her chest glistened in the dim light, streaks of your release tracing down to her stomach. The sticky warmth clung to her skin, vivid and undeniable, a testament to how much you had been saving up for her. She trembled under the weight of the moment, her lips parting as she whispered faintly, “Oh my God…” Her voice was soft, filled with a mix of awe and desperation, her gaze dropping to the glistening mess on her chest.

Her hands trembled as they moved, brushing lightly over her curves, smearing the sticky remnants across her skin. The sight only heightened the ache inside her, her thighs quivering as she shifted slightly, her soaked panties clinging to her skin. The desperate need for relief surged again, her body reacting as if the mere act of pleasing you had amplified her own longing tenfold.

You leaned back into the couch, your breathing heavy but steadying as you watched her. A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips, your eyes taking in the sight of her—kneeling before you, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with evidence of your release. She looked wrecked, raw, and utterly yours.

“Clean yourself up,” you said finally, your voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that sent another shiver down her spine.

Her gaze flicked downward, her lips parting slightly as she took in the sight of herself. Thick streaks of your release marked her chest and face, the warmth of it clinging to her skin like a brand. Her hands trembled as they moved upward, her fingertips brushing against her cheek where the first streaks had landed. She paused for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers lingered.

Then, with deliberate intent, she brought her fingers to her lips. The movement was slow, almost reverent, her eyes fluttering closed as she slipped them into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around each digit, savoring the taste, rich and unmistakable. A soft, audible gulp followed as she swallowed, her breath hitching as the act only deepened the simmering heat coursing through her.

Her hands moved lower, cupping her chest, her fingers gliding over the slickness streaked across her skin. The warmth was still there, a visceral reminder of your dominance. She leaned forward slightly, her breath shallow and uneven as she began to clean herself. Her fingers gathered the remnants, smearing it slightly before bringing it to her lips again. Her movements were unhurried, each touch deliberate, each taste sending a shiver down her spine.

She shifted slightly, lifting one breast toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out, tentative at first, lapping at the streaks she couldn’t reach with her fingers. Her lips closed around the soft curve, sucking gently as she worked to clean every inch of her skin. Her breaths were audible now, short and trembling, her chest heaving as she moved to the other side.

The wet sounds of her tongue and lips filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of her shifting body. She was methodical, thorough, her cheeks flushed deeper with every motion. The room seemed smaller, hotter, the air thick with the lingering scent of arousal. The tension between you remained palpable, her body trembling with unspent need even as she finished her task.

When she finally straightened, her lips glistened faintly, and her chest was free of the sticky evidence of your climax. Yet the dampness clinging to her inner thighs betrayed her state. The act of cleaning herself had only deepened the ache inside her, the heat between her legs an all-consuming pulse that refused to be ignored.

Her wide eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly, filled with a mix of uncertainty and raw desire, before dropping again. She seemed unable to hold your gaze for long, the intensity too much to bear. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting together as her breaths remained shallow, her body visibly trembling with need.

She stayed kneeling before you, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only motion. The memory of your pleasure was fresh on her tongue, the weight of your control pressing down on her, and the unrelenting ache inside her burned hotter than ever. Every second in your presence made it harder to endure, the tension in her body coiling tighter, her submission deepening with every unspoken command.

-----

The final days of her punishment dragged on like an endless stretch of time, every moment heavy with unspoken tension. The stillness between you was almost oppressive, each day blurring into the next as the weight of her denial bore down on her. This was the longest Natty had ever gone without release, and it showed in every aspect of her demeanor. Her once-bright spark had dimmed, replaced by a quiet desperation that lingered in her every move.

The ache inside her had become unbearable, growing from a subtle pulse to an all-encompassing fire that clouded her thoughts. Every touch she remembered, every fleeting moment of closeness, replayed in her mind, driving her mad with longing. Even the faintest brush of your presence—a simple passing glance, the sound of your footsteps—sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting instinctively despite her attempts to suppress it.

You, as always, maintained your calm and composed demeanor. There was no teasing, no deliberate provocation—just an air of quiet control that seemed to magnify her need. The unrelenting steadiness of your presence was both a source of comfort and torment. You gave her no indication of when her punishment might end, leaving her to stew in the tension, her mind spiraling with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t help herself; she gravitated toward you like a moth drawn to a flame. Wherever you went, she found an excuse to be nearby. She lingered in doorways, her wide eyes fixed on you as if waiting for permission to come closer. When you stood in the kitchen, her presence was a constant shadow, her movements soft and tentative as though afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium.

One evening, the weight of it all seemed to crash over her. You were preparing dinner, your movements calm and deliberate as the scent of garlic and herbs filled the air. She knelt between your legs, her hands resting lightly on your thighs, her head tilted upward as she gazed at you. The tension in her body was palpable, every muscle tight as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

Her wide eyes locked on yours, filled with an unspoken plea that words couldn’t capture. She didn’t dare speak, but the faint parting of her lips, the quick, uneven rise and fall of her chest, and the way her thighs pressed together betrayed the depth of her need. Her hands trembled slightly, her fingers brushing the fabric of your pants as though drawn by an invisible force.

She didn’t move, didn’t dare break the silence, but her gaze flicked downward for a fleeting moment. Her lips parted just slightly, her breathing shallow as her eyes darted back up to meet yours. Her desperation was written into every movement, her body quivering with the effort of staying still.

You glanced down at her, your calm and deliberate movements uninterrupted. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a subtle acknowledgment of her state. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and steady. “You can use your mouth.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she seemed frozen, her body stiff as the words sank in. Then, her expression shifted, gratitude flooding her features as she whispered, “Really?” Her voice was shaky, as if she didn’t trust her own ears, her lips trembling as she waited for confirmation.

You nodded, giving her permission. “Go ahead.”

Her response was immediate, eager, as though this was the reprieve she had been desperately waiting for. Leaning forward, her hands trembled slightly as they moved to your waistband, carefully freeing you. As your length was revealed, her breath hitched audibly, her lips parting as her gaze fixated on you. Her eyes flickered with a mix of awe and raw hunger, the sight of you sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her.

She paused for a moment, her face hovering close. The faint musk of your arousal filled her senses, and she inhaled deeply, her thighs pressing together as a shiver rippled through her. The scent alone seemed to heighten the ache inside her, leaving her trembling with need.

Finally, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around you with deliberate care. Her mouth was warm and soft, her tongue swirling in practiced, eager motions. Her hands braced against your thighs, steadying herself as she began to work. Every movement was filled with purpose, her lips and tongue crafting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Her motions were a mixture of desperation and precision. She wasn’t just focused on bringing you pleasure—she clung to the act itself, as though the act of pleasing you might somehow soothe her own unrelenting need. Her moans vibrated against you, soft and involuntary, her arousal building with each sound you made in response.

A deep groan escaped your lips, and the sound spurred her on. Her pace quickened, her confidence growing as she adjusted to the rhythm she knew would elicit the strongest response. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, her tongue working fervently as her lips slid along your length. The way her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with anticipation and longing, only added to the intensity.

Then, without pausing, she shifted lower. Her tongue trailed down to your base, her warm breath ghosting over your skin as she carefully took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently. The softness of her lips, combined with the light flicks of her tongue, sent a shiver through you. Her hands stayed busy, one stroking your length in a steady rhythm, the other resting on your thigh for balance.

“Just like that,” you murmured, your voice deep and husky, the words sending a faint flush to her cheeks.

Encouraged, she moved to the other side, giving equal attention, her tongue drawing slow, teasing circles before her lips closed around you. Her strokes on your shaft quickened slightly, her fingers curling tighter as she worked both areas with practiced care. The combination of her warm mouth and eager hands created an overwhelming sensation, pulling low groans from your chest.

Her breaths came heavier now, her arousal bleeding into her movements. The slickness of her fingers against your length was steady and deliberate, the wet sound of her efforts filling the quiet room. Her thighs shifted against the floor, her own body reacting instinctively to the act of pleasing you.

After a time, she released you from her mouth with a soft pop, her tongue trailing back up your length, leaving a wet path in her wake. She returned to your shaft, her lips wrapping around you again as though she couldn’t stay away. She took you deeper this time, her tongue pressed firmly against the underside as she bobbed her head, her hands bracing against your thighs to steady herself. Each motion was fluid, precise, and full of intent.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice low and strained. “So eager. So good with that mouth.”

Her pace quickened at your words, her lips sliding up and down as her tongue swirled over your sensitive tip. The vibrations of her soft moans were almost too much, and you groaned deeply, the sound spurring her on further. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter as she adjusted her rhythm, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the heat rising, the sensation building to an unbearable peak. “I’m close,” you growled, your voice strained as you placed a firm hand on the back of her head.

She took your words as a command, her efforts becoming almost frantic, her mouth enveloping you deeper as her tongue worked with renewed vigor. The vibrations of her soft moans drove you over the edge. As you climaxed, your hand pressed gently but firmly on the back of her head, ensuring there was no space between you.

The first surge of your release hit the back of her throat directly, her eyes widening as she instinctively swallowed. The warmth and thickness filled her mouth entirely, her lips sealing around you as she took everything you gave her. Each pump sent another rush straight to the back of her throat, leaving no room for travel, her swallowing keeping perfect pace with your release.

Her body trembled beneath you, her own arousal spiking as she felt every pulse of your climax. Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, her nails digging in slightly as she fought to keep herself steady. The act of taking you so completely only amplified her own need, the ache inside her growing unbearable.

When the last wave subsided, she lingered, her tongue moving gently against you as if savoring every moment. Slowly, she pulled back, her lips leaving you with a soft, deliberate motion. She gasped softly, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her face flushed and glistening.

Her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy as she looked up at you, the taste of you still on her tongue. Her hands fell to her lap, trembling as her thighs pressed together tightly, the evidence of her arousal undeniable.

Her gaze flicked downward, taking in the sight of your length slick from her efforts and the faint mess left on her lips. Her thighs pressed together tightly, her need still painfully unresolved. She had thought this would help her, that focusing on your pleasure would somehow soothe the ache building inside her. But she was so wrong.

The act of bringing you to release, of hearing your groans and feeling your tension snap, had only sharpened her own longing. The heat inside her was unbearable, the ache now all-consuming. Her body trembled as her lips tingled with the memory of you, the lingering taste of your release on her tongue making her stomach twist with need.

Sitting back on her heels, her hands trembling slightly, she dared to glance back up at you, searching for something—permission, relief, anything. But your calm, steady gaze only reminded her of the boundaries you’d set. Her stomach tightened as the realization settled over her: she was still denied. Nothing had changed. If anything, the fire inside her burned hotter.

Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. She remained kneeling, her chest heaving softly, every nerve in her body alight with unspent desire. Her thighs clenched tighter, but it was no use—the longing inside her wasn’t going anywhere. It had only grown.

-----

The tension in the house reached its peak on the second-to-last evening, the air so heavy it felt alive. The soft glow of the television flickered across the room, its muted sound blending with the quiet hum of the house. You sat on the couch, leaning back comfortably, your posture calm and steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you and Natty.

She lingered nearby, her presence hesitant but drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of indecision, she approached. Without a word, she lay across your lap, her head resting on your thigh as she curled into herself slightly. The tension in her body was palpable, her breathing shallow and uneven as though the simple act of being close to you was too much.

Your hand moved to her hair instinctively, your fingers threading through the soft strands in slow, deliberate strokes. The touch was gentle but firm, grounding her even as her thoughts spiraled. She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling against your lap in uneven rhythm. For a brief moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as the steady motion soothed her frayed nerves.

But the ache inside her didn’t subside—it only grew sharper. Her thighs shifted restlessly, rubbing together as though seeking some kind of relief. The heat in her body was unbearable, the steady press of need building into a relentless thrum that clouded her thoughts. She bit her lip hard, trying to stifle the whimper rising in her throat, but it was a futile effort. Every stroke of your fingers through her hair, every subtle shift of your body beneath hers, only added fuel to the fire.

Her hands curled into loose fists, her nails digging lightly into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. But it wasn’t enough. The weight of your control, the quiet calm you exuded, drove her to the brink. Finally, she shifted, her body trembling slightly as she propped herself up, turning to straddle your lap instead.

Her thighs pressed into yours as she settled, her hands clutching your chest for balance. Her head bowed for a moment, her breath hitching audibly as she fought to steady herself. When she finally looked up, her eyes met yours, wide and pleading, heavy with unspoken need. Her gaze dropped almost immediately, lingering on your waist, her lips parting slightly as though drawn by a magnetic force.

For a moment, she said nothing, her body frozen as she stewed in the unbearable tension coursing through her. Her hands tightened their grip on your shirt, her fingers trembling as the storm inside her reached a breaking point.

“You’re almost there,” you said finally, your voice calm but deliberate. The words sliced through the silence like a blade, steady and unrelenting.

Her head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto yours. Her lips quivered, her body trembling against you as though the weight of your gaze alone might shatter her. “I…” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how much longer I can—” She cut herself off with a soft sob, her hands curling tighter into the fabric of your shirt. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just… I need you.”

Her voice cracked, and her hips shifted slightly as though searching for even the faintest relief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, her desperation spilling out in frantic, unfiltered words. “I’ll never lie again. I’ll be better—I promise. Just, please…”

You watched her unravel in your lap, the composure she clung to crumbling entirely. Your hand moved to her hair again, threading your fingers through it as you guided her forehead to rest against yours. “Shhh,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and steady. “You’re so close, Natty. Just a little longer.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her body still trembled against you. “I’m trying,” she whimpered, her voice breaking with every word. “I’m really trying, but it’s too much. Please… just this once…”

Her thighs trembled as she pressed herself closer, her body seeking yours like it was the only thing grounding her. She let out another soft sob, burying her face in your shoulder as her hands clutched desperately at your shirt.

You pressed a kiss to her temple, the softness of the gesture making her shiver. “My sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

The praise sent a shudder through her, and she clung to you tighter, her cries softening as she tried to steady herself. “I’ll be good,” she whispered brokenly. “I swear, I’ll do anything. I just—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted, your lips brushing against her cheek in a gentle kiss. “I know, I know it’s hard. But you can do this. Just hold on for me.”

Her shoulders shook as she nodded faintly, her sobs quieting further. “Okay,” she whispered shakily, her voice barely audible. She stayed there, sinking deeper into your embrace, letting your steady presence anchor her even as the ache inside her burned hotter with every second.

Your hand continued to stroke her hair, the motion slow and deliberate, a constant reassurance. Her body trembled against you, the heat radiating from her a tangible reminder of the control you still held. Despite the overwhelming need consuming her, she stayed, her trust in you unwavering as she endured the storm.

-----

Now finally the last day of the month has arrived.  Natty woke with a feeling she had never experienced before. Her body trembled as she stretched, but instead of relief, she felt an overwhelming tension in every muscle. A deep, relentless ache settled low in her belly, heavier and sharper than before, as though her body itself was protesting the month-long denial. It wasn’t just an ache—it was an all-encompassing sensation that left her feeling sick and shaky, her stomach tight and twisted. Every nerve felt raw, on edge, and her hypersensitivity made her skin prickle even under the lightest touch of the sheets.

She sat up slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as her head spun slightly. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she let out a soft, shaky breath, the tension inside her almost unbearable. Her stomach ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of how long she’d gone without release. It felt like an emptiness and a fullness at the same time, a contradiction that only heightened her frustration. The presence of the plug, which had remained snug all night, only amplified her torment. She could feel it with every small shift of her body—a teasing, maddening fullness that made her hyper aware of herself.

When she finally stood, her legs felt weak, her movements unsteady. Every step sent a faint jolt through her, the plug pressing deeper with even the slightest motion. It was as if her entire body had become a live wire, sparking with every touch, every shift, every breath. She shivered as she made her way out of the bedroom, her hands clutching the fabric of her oversized shirt as though grounding herself against the storm of sensations.

When she stepped into the living room, the light spilling softly through the windows, she found you lounging on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. You glanced up at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your gaze swept over her. “Come here,” you said simply, patting your lap. “Lie down.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she hesitated for only a second before obeying. She settled across your lap, her breaths quickening as your hands began to roam along her back, the pressure firm but soothing. Your touch was unhurried, tracing the curve of her spine, lingering lower until your fingers brushed against the waistband of her shorts. Without a word, you hooked your thumbs into the fabric and pulled them down, the cool air making her shiver as it hit her exposed skin.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt your hand glide over her bare cheeks, the warmth of your palm contrasting against the coolness of the air. Her body betrayed her, a faint glisten of arousal catching the light. You chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing. “Dripping already?” you murmured, giving one cheek a firm squeeze. “You’re really something, Natty.”

Her breath hitched, her body quivering as she buried her face in her arms. Before she could respond, she felt something cool and slick press against her other entrance. Her muscles tensed instinctively, her head snapping up as she stammered, “Wait, what are you—?”

“Shh,” you murmured, your voice calm but commanding as you pressed the small plug in slowly. Her breath hitched audibly, her body jerking forward as the sensation hit her all at once. A soft yelp escaped her lips, her walls clenching reflexively as her thighs trembled.

“Hold it,” you instructed firmly, your hand resting lightly on her back. “You’ll keep it there all day.”

“I—I don’t think I can,” she stammered, her face burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“You can,” you replied, your tone leaving no room for argument. “And you will.”

She whimpered softly, her breaths uneven as she adjusted to the sensation. The fullness teased her relentlessly, and every small movement made her hyper aware of its presence. The ache between her legs grew sharper, more insistent, as if her body was begging for relief that wouldn’t come. Even standing felt like a challenge; the plug shifted slightly with each step, sending ripples of sensation through her core.

The day had barely begun, and yet she already felt as though she was teetering on the edge. The plug amplified everything—every touch, every brush of fabric, every faint movement. She couldn’t escape it, and with every moment that passed, the ache inside her burned hotter, making her tremble with the effort of holding herself together. Midnight felt impossibly far away.

You didn’t let her rest today—not for a single moment. The relentless presence of the plug became a constant torment, every shift of her body driving the fullness deeper, teasing her in ways she couldn’t escape. Throughout the day, you made her bend over to “check” that it was still in place, a smug reminder of your control. Each time, your hand slid along her folds, your fingers brushing lightly against her slick, swollen skin. The wetness clung to you, undeniable evidence of her unrelenting arousal.

Her breaths came in sharp gasps during these moments, her body trembling as she struggled to remain still. The faintest touch sent shivers down her spine, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. She whimpered softly, the sound involuntary, her thighs quivering as the effort of holding herself together grew increasingly futile.

“You’re holding up well,” you teased after one such inspection, your fingers hovering just close enough to make her whimper again. The sound was high and needy, betraying her desperation. “Though it looks like you’re ready to explode already.”

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson, and she turned her face away, unable to meet your amused gaze. Her thighs pressed tightly together, her body shuddering as she struggled to steady her breathing. The plug teased her with every movement, amplifying her sensitivity to unbearable levels, and the ache between her legs became an all-consuming pulse.

But you weren’t done. Your teasing was deliberate and constant, turning the mundane moments of her day into unrelenting torment. A casual grope of her chest as she walked past made her gasp, her nipples hardening under your touch as a jolt of sensation shot through her. Your hand would slide up her shirt without warning, your fingers brushing against her sensitive peaks, leaving her trembling and breathless.

When she bent down to retrieve something, you delivered sharp smacks to her exposed cheeks, the sound echoing through the room as her hips jolted forward. Each time, the plug shifted slightly, pressing deeper inside her, and she let out a strangled moan, her hands gripping whatever surface was nearest for support.

At one point, while she was bent over cleaning the counter, you delivered a particularly firm smack. The force sent the plug pushing deeper, and the sudden wave of sensation made her cry out softly. Her hands clutched the countertop, her knuckles white as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and her legs quaked as she tried—and failed—to regain her composure.

“Careful,” you murmured, leaning close to her ear. Your voice was laced with amusement, dripping with controlled authority. “I wouldn’t want you to lose control now.”

She shuddered, her head dipping as another soft whimper escaped her lips. Her body burned with arousal, her skin tingling as though every nerve ending had come alive. Every teasing touch, every lingering squeeze of your hand left her trembling, her body responding instantly as though begging for more. She was aware of everything—the brush of fabric against her sensitive skin, the cool air that contrasted with the heat radiating from her core, the relentless presence of the plug that made every movement feel like a deliberate act of torment.

By mid-afternoon, she was a trembling mess. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, her body quaking as she navigated the relentless teasing and the ache that had only grown sharper, hotter, with every passing moment. The fullness of the plug heightened her sensitivity, making even the smallest movements feel exaggerated. A shift of her hips, a brush of her thighs—each one sent jolts of need spiraling through her, leaving her gasping and desperate.

Her arousal radiated off her in waves, the heat between her legs becoming an all-consuming ache. It seeped into every part of her, making her feel like she was on the verge of breaking. Every glance from you, every calculated touch, only made it worse. She could barely think about anything else, her mind entirely consumed by the promise of relief she couldn’t yet have.

The promise of midnight was the only thing grounding her, a beacon at the end of her torment. But as the minutes dragged on and each moment stretched longer than the last, she began to wonder just how much more she could take. The hours ahead loomed like an eternity, and her body burned with the need to finally be free.

-----

Once the final moments were minutes away, Natty was a trembling wreck. She couldn’t muster excitement, couldn’t even speak. The month-long denial had consumed her entirely, leaving her a quivering, needy mess. Every step she took sent faint jolts through her hypersensitive body, her thighs slick with a constant reminder of her arousal. Her mind swirled with one singular thought—relief. Midnight was so close, yet it felt infinitely far away.

You watched her silently as she hovered near you, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The air between you was electric, charged with her desperation and your unshakable calm. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Bedroom,” you said, your voice calm but commanding. “Now.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her trembling hands reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head in one fluid motion. Her shorts followed, discarded in a heap on the floor, leaving her completely bare before you. There was no need to ask—her eagerness, her desperation, was written across her flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

Natty lay back on the bed, her legs slightly parted, her body trembling uncontrollably. Every breath she took was shallow and uneven, her body strung tight with anticipation and desperation. Her wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours as you retrieved the wand vibrator from the nightstand, its weight in your hand a promise of what was to come.

“You’ve waited this long,” you murmured, sitting beside her. Your voice was calm, soothing, but carried an unyielding authority. “But understand this—if you cum before midnight, it’s another month.”

Her breath hitched, her body stiffening as the weight of your words sank in. A shudder passed through her, and her lips parted as though to protest, but no sound came. The mere thought of another month was impossible to comprehend. She didn’t even know how she had survived this one. Her stomach churned, and a small, desperate whimper escaped her lips.

“Do you understand, Natty?” you asked, your voice steady but firm.

She nodded quickly, tears welling in her eyes. “Y-yes… I understand.” Her voice cracked, the fear and arousal mingling into a trembling whisper.

With a faint smirk, you picked up the vibrator, letting it press firmly against her swollen clit without turning it on. The weight alone was enough to make her react—a sharp intake of breath followed by a faint whimper as her hips shifted instinctively, seeking more. The glistening slickness between her legs caught the dim light, pooling against the toy and betraying just how close she was to the edge already.

You watched her closely, your calm demeanor a stark contrast to the tremors racking her body. “So needy,” you murmured, your voice low and deliberate. “Leaking onto the sheets, and I haven’t even turned it on.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her thighs trembling as she tried to press them together only to fail against your positioning. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she fought the overwhelming tension building inside her. “P-please,” she stammered, her voice trembling and barely audible.

“Not yet,” you said, your tone firm but calm. Your gaze flicked briefly to the clock. “It’s not time.”

Her body jerked slightly at the reminder, her thighs quivering as the pressure from the vibrator sent faint pulses of sensation through her. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one feeling like an eternity as she teetered on the precipice. Her breaths grew more frantic, her chest rising and falling with each shallow gasp, her entire body betraying her desperate need.

Without warning, your free hand moved downward, your fingers brushing lightly over the curve of her ass. You hooked a finger under the base of the plug, tugging gently. The sensation elicited a sharp cry from her, her hips bucking against the pressure. Her arousal spilled out even more, a slick warmth pooling between her thighs and glistening against her skin.

Her moans turned into incoherent whimpers as her body trembled violently. “Oh God—” she gasped, her voice cracking as the mix of sensations overwhelmed her.

You brought your finger to the slick mess, scooping some onto your fingertip. With deliberate slowness, you raised it to your mouth, tasting her arousal. The faint hum of approval you let out sent another shiver through her. “So sweet,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “And all mine.”

Her body jerked again, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands clawed desperately at the sheets. The combination of sensations—the press of the vibrator, the tug on the plug, and your deliberate tasting of her—pushed her to the very edge.

Finally, the clock hit 11:59. Without a word, you turned the vibrator on, its low hum filling the room.

The moment the vibrator sprang to life, Natty’s body reacted as if it had been struck by lightning. A high-pitched yelp escaped her lips, her hips jerking against the relentless vibration. Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the sheets, her body writhing uncontrollably, her thighs trembling with effort. The first wave of sensation crashed over her, and she wasn’t ready for the intensity. She quivered like a bowstring pulled too tight, every muscle taut, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

“Hold on,” you commanded, your tone calm but firm.

Her sobs came softly at first, as if she were trying to hold them back, but the effort only made them more pitiful. Her lips parted, trembling, and a faint whimper escaped. Her hands clutched the sheets tightly, her nails digging into the fabric as her entire body quaked beneath the relentless assault of the vibrations.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, but the relentless pressure of the toy against her swollen clit made every movement a torment. Her hips shifted involuntarily, as though her body were trying to escape and chase the sensation at the same time. Her skin glistened with sweat, her face flushed a deep crimson as tears streaked her cheeks. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling as she struggled against the unbearable tension coiling inside her.

You leaned closer, your hand resting gently on her abdomen, your voice a steady anchor. “You’ve made it this far, Natty,” you murmured, your tone soft but resolute. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Her eyes widened as another wave of sensation crashed over her, her sobs growing louder and more frantic. Her body arched off the bed, the vibrations driving her closer to the edge. “I—” she stammered, her voice cracking as she fought to find her words. “I don’t think I can—I can’t do it! I need to cum!”

“A little more, baby,” you replied firmly, your gaze locking onto hers. “Trust me, you can do this.”

Her body convulsed, her hips grinding helplessly against the unyielding vibrator. The wet sounds of her arousal filled the room, mingling with her desperate cries. Her slickness coated the toy, betraying the depth of her need. She whimpered again, shaking her head as tears flowed freely, her thighs trembling violently.

Finally, you extended your hand to her. “Here,” you said softly, offering it like a lifeline. “Hold on to me.”

Her trembling fingers latched onto yours with surprising strength, gripping as though your hand were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her nails bit into your skin, but you didn’t flinch, letting her anchor herself in the gesture. “You’re halfway there,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing, an oasis of calm amid her chaos.

Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her sobs hitching with every sharp inhale as her body quaked uncontrollably. She clung to your hand as if it were the only solid thing in a world of overwhelming sensation. Her lips moved, trying to form words, but all that escaped were soft, broken whimpers, desperate and raw. The tension in her body was unbearable, her chest heaving as her thighs quaked, every nerve ending alive with unbearable intensity.

You glanced at the clock, your own breath steady as the final stretch approached. Her body tensed further, every muscle pulled taut as though she were a bowstring ready to snap.

“Ten,” you began, your voice calm and deliberate, a grounding presence in her storm.

Natty gasped sharply, her entire body stiffening as the vibrations pushed her closer to the edge. Her nails dug deeper into your hand, her legs trembling as she whimpered softly.

“Nine,” you continued, your eyes locked on her.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. Her lips trembled as a desperate whimper escaped her throat. “It’s too much,” she whispered, her voice cracking. The relentless hum of the vibrator against her clit made her legs quiver uncontrollably.

“Eight.”

Her back arched, her body bucking involuntarily as she let out a strangled cry. “I—I can’t—I can’t!” she sobbed, her tears streaking down her flushed cheeks.

“You’re stronger than this, Natty,” you said calmly, your voice steady and grounding as you brushed her hair back from her sweat-dampened forehead. “You’ve made it this far.”

“Seven.”

Her breathing turned ragged, each gasp shallow and desperate as her hips jerked against the unyielding pressure. The wetness between her legs spread further, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the room. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Please—I can’t hold it!”

“Six.”

Her nails raked against your hand, her grip tightening as though holding you was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her sobs grew louder, raw and broken as her body writhed beneath the unrelenting assault. Her thighs quivered violently, every muscle trembling with tension.

“Five.”

She let out a guttural moan, her hips grinding involuntarily against the vibrator. “I’m trying—I swear, I’m trying!” she cried, her voice thick with desperation. Her tears flowed freely now, her face flushed and damp as she clung to your hand with all her strength.

“Four.”

Her breath hitched, each exhale turning into a ragged sob as she whimpered, “I can’t do this! I can’t—I’m going to—” Her hips bucked harder, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her body convulsed against the sheets.

“Three.”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing warmly against her ear. “You’re so close, Natty,” you murmured softly. “Don’t give up now.”

Her lips parted as if to plead, but the only sound that escaped was a desperate, high-pitched whimper. Her chest heaved as her body fought against the overwhelming pleasure, her tears soaking into the pillow beneath her head.

“Two.”

Her entire frame was trembling violently now, her nails digging into your hand as her body teetered on the brink. “Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I need to—I can’t stop it—I need to—”

“Hold on,” you commanded, your voice calm but firm, grounding her with the unshakable authority in your tone.

“One.”

Your voice remained steady as you carefully balanced the vibrator against her swollen clit, the relentless hum sending vibrations coursing through her. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hands away, leaving the toy perfectly poised against her trembling body. At first, she didn’t even notice your absence—her mind was fogged with overwhelming need, her focus entirely consumed by the mounting pressure tearing through her.

“Now, Natty,” you murmured softly, your tone calm yet commanding, slicing through the haze clouding her mind.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, just as your hands moved to her chest. Your fingers found her sensitive nipples, pinching them lightly before tugging them upward with deliberate precision. The sharp pull elicited a desperate cry from her lips, her hips bucking instinctively against the vibrator. The motion was reflexive, her body torn between seeking relief from the intensity and craving even more of it.

The sensations converged like a tidal wave—the relentless vibrations teasing her folds, the sharp tug on her swollen nipples, and the persistent fullness of the plug nestled deep inside her, pressing in with every trembling movement. Together, they built into an unrelenting storm of pleasure, crashing through her body and leaving no room for control.

Her body stiffened like a bowstring drawn tight, quivering for a suspended second before breaking. And then she shattered. Her back arched violently off the bed, the tendons in her neck straining as her climax slammed into her with unrelenting force. A scream tore from her throat, raw and guttural, reverberating through the room like a primal release.

 “Ahhh! F-FUCK!”, her voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure ripping through her. 

Natty’s legs snapped shut involuntarily, trapping the vibrator tightly between her trembling thighs. The added pressure amplified the vibrations to an unbearable intensity, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her already over-sensitized body. Her back arched off the bed, her abs contracting so hard it felt like they might cramp, every muscle in her body taut as a bowstring. 

The fullness of the plug in her ass only heightened everything, pressing deeper with every spasm of her climax. It felt like her body was tearing apart and coming together simultaneously, every nerve ending alight with sensations so intense they blurred the line between pleasure and pain. She writhed uncontrollably, her head pressing back into the mattress as her trembling hands clawed at the sheets. Her fingers twisted the fabric into fists, her grip so tight her knuckles turned white, desperate for something—anything—to anchor her in the storm raging through her.

“Oh my God—AGH! FUCK, FUCK!” she wailed, her voice breaking into fractured sobs as wave after wave of climax overwhelmed her. Her thighs quivered violently, her entire lower half slick with arousal as the glistening evidence of her release pooled beneath her. The wet, lewd sounds of her trembling movements only added to the intensity, driving her further into a pleasure so consuming it left her mind blank and incoherent.

Her abs cramped again, the sharp ache blending into the relentless throbbing of her core. Every pulse of her body felt magnified a hundredfold. Her nipples, still under the firm grip of your fingers, sent jolts of electric pleasure-pain through her chest with every tug and pinch. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her sobs turning into hiccupping gasps as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room fading into a haze of white-hot pleasure. Her thoughts dissolved entirely, her mind unable to focus on anything but the torrent of ecstasy ripping through her. Another scream tore from her throat as her hips bucked helplessly, her body caught in an unrelenting rhythm that wasn’t hers to control.

Her legs trembled violently, the muscles quaking beneath the strain of holding the vibrator in place. Her toes curled and uncurled, the tension radiating from her core to every extremity. She felt utterly consumed, her body reacting on instinct, every motion drawing out the climax until it seemed endless.

Finally, the vibrations began to ease, but her body didn’t stop. The aftershocks rippled through her, smaller waves of pleasure making her twitch uncontrollably. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, her breaths ragged and uneven. Her limbs felt heavy, trembling faintly as they fell limply to her sides.

Tears continued to streak down her face, her cheeks stained with the evidence of her release. Her entire body glistened with sweat, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of the room. Even as her climax began to fade, the plug’s fullness sent tiny, lingering jolts of pleasure radiating outward, leaving her hypersensitive and raw.

You leaned forward, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the intensity she had just endured. Her glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazy, a soft moan escaping her lips as her gaze found yours. The exhaustion in her face was mingled with something else—a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

“You did it, Natty. You’re incredible,” you murmured softly, your voice a warm balm as you brushed a strand of damp hair away from her flushed face. The praise seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, soothing her trembling form as she melted into the mattress, her body finally surrendering to the sweet, blissful exhaustion.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, her chest heaving with the effort of coming down from the most intense climax of her life. “Thank you…” she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under the weight of her relief. Her words were barely audible, trembling with emotion, as her body sank deeper into the bed. She looked utterly wrecked—her cheeks damp with tears, her thighs still quivering faintly, her entire form radiating the afterglow of release.

You sat beside her, your touch gentle as your hand trailed down her arm, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on her damp skin. She flinched slightly, her body still hyper-sensitive, but she didn’t pull away. For the first time in weeks, the relentless ache inside her was gone, replaced by a deep, blissful emptiness. Her head lolled to the side, her eyelids fluttering as she floated in the haze of her release. It was a quiet, almost dreamlike state, her mind too overwhelmed to process anything beyond the moment.

For a time, she simply lay there, her breaths coming in slow, ragged bursts. Her body felt weightless, untethered, her thoughts drifting aimlessly as she savored the sweet relief coursing through her. It was everything she had been waiting for—everything she thought she needed.

But as the haze began to lift, her breaths steadied, and a flicker of awareness returned to her gaze. Her glassy eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a dazed vulnerability. The raw emotion in her expression was undeniable—gratitude, relief, and something else, something that lingered in the shadows of her desire.

At first, she didn’t move, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. The stillness between you stretched, heavy and charged, until the quiet became almost unbearable.

Then, she inhaled sharply, her voice soft and trembling. “I… I need more.” you felt the tension between you shift, her words a soft, desperate confession that hung heavy in the air.

“Greedy, aren’t we?” you teased, setting the vibrator aside as you leaned closer. The smirk on your lips held no malice, only satisfaction. Her wide, pleading eyes followed your every move as you began to undress. Each button you loosened, each piece of fabric you shed, only heightened her anticipation. Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as she watched your body come into view, her gaze lingering with raw hunger.

Climbing onto the bed, you positioned yourself between her trembling thighs. She spread her legs instinctively, her body quaking beneath you, her slick folds glistening with arousal as she waited for you to fill her. You lined yourself up with her entrance, pausing just long enough to meet her gaze. The raw desperation in her eyes was enough to send a thrill down your spine.

As you pressed into her, the sound she made was somewhere between a gasp and a cry, her hypersensitive body reacting instantly. The tight, wet heat of her clamped around you, her back arching off the bed as she cried out. Her nails dug into your shoulders, her hands clutching you as though you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You waited so well,” you murmured against her ear, your voice thick with approval as your hips began to move with deliberate force. “Now, you get all of me.”

Her sobbing moans filled the room, each thrust drawing a broken, needy sound from her lips. She writhed beneath you, her body impossibly responsive to every motion. Your hands moved to her chest, kneading her soft, full breasts, your thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples with teasing strokes. Each touch sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching sharply as her hips bucked instinctively to meet you. Her thighs quivered on either side of you, trembling with the strain of holding back the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

Leaning down, your mouth found one of her nipples, tugging it gently between your lips. You sucked softly at first, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before you increased the pressure, tugging firmly enough to draw a cry from her throat. Her back arched off the bed, her chest pressing further into your touch as her hands clutched desperately at your shoulders.

The plug inside her added another layer of sensation, shifting slightly with each of your movements. The fullness it brought combined with the relentless drive of your thrusts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her walls fluttered around you, a desperate clench that pulled you deeper as she gasped for air.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her nipple as your hands continued to explore her soft curves. “God, I love your tits. Made for me to touch, to taste.”

Your teeth grazed her nipple, tugging lightly before sucking hard enough to make her cry out. “Look at how they react for me,” you growled, your voice thick with need as you pinched the neglected peak between your fingers. “So soft, so full. They’re mine, Natty. All mine.”

Her breath hitched at your words, her thighs trembling as her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. “They’re yours,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “All yours.”

You smirked against her skin, your tongue tracing lazy circles around her sensitive peak before moving to the other. “That’s right,” you growled, your tone possessive. “Every inch of you is mine. Look at how much you need me. Your body can’t hide it.”

Her walls clenched around you again, her moans turning into desperate, high-pitched cries as you continued to drive into her relentlessly. Each thrust sent her spiraling further into ecstasy, her body reacting to every movement with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Shifting your position, you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs firmly. With deliberate care, you lifted her legs and pressed them upward, trapping them against her chest. Your knees pinned her in place, holding her completely open and vulnerable in a perfect mating press. The change in angle made her gasp sharply, her wide, hazy eyes locking onto yours.

“You look so fucking good like this,” you murmured, your voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely mine.”

The next thrust sent her screaming, her entire body jolting as you hit that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. Her nails raked against your arms, her head tossing back against the pillow as her voice broke into desperate cries.

“Right there,” you growled, your eyes locked on her face, watching the way her expression twisted in bliss. “I can feel how much you love it. So fucking tight, clenching around me like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her sobs grew louder, her legs trembling against your chest as her body quaked with every deep, deliberate thrust. You leaned forward slightly, your grip tightening on her thighs as you drove into her harder, deeper, each motion pushing her closer to the edge

“Don’t stop!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as her walls fluttered desperately around you. “Oh, God—please, just—just like that!”

Each powerful thrust jolted her body downward, her back bouncing against the mattress only to rise again to meet you, the force of your movements sending ripples of sensation through her trembling form. The angle of the mating press left her completely at your mercy, her legs pinned upward and her body open to every deep, deliberate motion. Each plunge drove into her so deeply that she gasped, her nails raking frantically across the sheets in a futile attempt to anchor herself.

Her cries climbed in pitch, the tremor in her voice betraying how close she was to unraveling. “Oh my God—ah! Please, please!” she sobbed, her thighs twitching violently as the relentless rhythm pushed her to the edge. The slick sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the room, mingling with her desperate cries, the evidence of her arousal pooling beneath her on the bed.

Her chest heaved, her full, sensitive breasts brushing against your chest with each thrust. The friction only heightened her pleasure, her hardened nipples sending electric jolts through her trembling body every time they grazed against your skin. Her walls clamped down on you rhythmically, pulling you deeper, the overwhelming sensations making her feel as though she might shatter.

Sensing how close she was, you shifted with deliberate precision. Your hands slid from her thighs, snaking beneath her legs until they found the soft, round curves of her ass. You cupped her cheeks firmly, your fingers digging into the plush flesh as you lifted her hips off the mattress slightly. The adjustment pulled her even deeper onto you, the angle driving you into her sweet spot with devastating accuracy. Each thrust sent her body jolting violently against yours, the new position leaving her utterly breathless.

Her cries became incoherent, her head tossing back against the pillow as she writhed beneath you. “Oh—oh fuck!” she screamed, her voice cracking as another wave of sensation tore through her. Her nails scraped down your back, leaving fiery trails in their wake, her trembling fingers clutching at you desperately.

Your mouth descended to one of her taut, begging nipples, capturing it with your lips as your thrusts never faltered. You sucked hard, tugging and flicking your tongue against the sensitive peak in perfect rhythm with your movements. Her back arched sharply, a strangled cry escaping her lips as her entire body seemed to tighten beneath you. The way her walls clenched around you made your own need burn hotter, driving you to push her even further.

“You’re mine,” you murmured against her heated skin, your voice low and possessive. You squeezed her other breast firmly, kneading it with one hand while your fingers rolled her nipple between them, tugging and twisting just enough to make her gasp. Each motion sent another shockwave through her trembling frame, her moans escalating into desperate, high-pitched whimpers.

“Fuck,” you growled, your tone thick with desire as your eyes met hers, hazy and overwhelmed with pleasure. “You’re taking all of me. So tight, so perfect—you were made for this. Made for me.”

Her body answered in kind, her walls fluttering uncontrollably around you as the pressure inside her built to an unbearable peak. Her thighs quaked against your sides, trembling as her body instinctively tried to match your relentless rhythm, every nerve alight with overwhelming sensation.

The fullness inside her was all-consuming. The plug pressed deeply, amplifying every thrust as it heightened the sensation of your length stretching and filling her. The dual pressure left her gasping, her breaths shallow and uneven, her mind reeling as she balanced on the knife’s edge of ecstasy.

When you thrust even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside her with relentless precision, her body couldn’t take it anymore. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing through her with violent force. Her scream tore through the room, raw and guttural, as her walls clamped down on you in an unrelenting grip. “AAGH! Fuck—oh, fuck! I—I can’t—” Her words dissolved into incoherent sobs, her hands scrambling desperately for purchase against your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body shattered beneath you.

Her muscles tensed and released in rapid, uncontrollable spasms, her thighs trembling violently as her body gave itself over to the release she’d been denied for so long. The intensity of her climax rivaled her previous, earth shattering one., her body jerking with each wave as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. She could feel every inch of you inside her, the fullness making her dizzy as her mind blurred into a haze of white-hot pleasure.

You didn’t stop. Your hands gripped her soft cheeks tighter, lifting her hips slightly as you pressed even deeper into her. The angle drove you against every sensitive nerve inside her, pulling even more desperate cries from her lips. Her walls rippled around you, milking you with each spasm as her release seemed endless, her trembling form unable to settle as the aftershocks kept her teetering on the brink.

Your climax hit like a flood, every pulse of release spilling deep inside her as your body trembled against hers. Each spurt of warmth was thick and heavy, filling her completely, and the sensation drew a sharp, trembling gasp from her lips. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and arousal, as she clung to you with trembling hands.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible, her words catching in her throat as the sensation overwhelmed her. “So much…” Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, pressing tightly against your sides as her oversensitive body reacted to every movement, every pulse.

The heat of your release spread slowly, the fullness consuming her entirely. She could feel the weight of it settling deep inside her, combining with the unyielding presence of the plug to leave her utterly stuffed. Her walls fluttered around you, squeezing reflexively as though her body couldn’t bear to let go of even a drop.

Her breathing hitched as she whimpered again, the faintest shift of her hips causing another jolt of sensation to ripple through her. “I can feel it,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her cheeks flushing even deeper as her hands clung to your arms. “It’s… so much,” she sobbed softly, her words breaking into shaky, uneven breaths.

You didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, you stayed buried inside her, letting the warmth of your bodies meld together. Each faint twitch of her inner walls drew a soft groan from you, the intensity of her aftershocks still gripping you as she trembled beneath you. Her thighs shook against your hips, the muscles twitching as if her body was trying to process the overwhelming fullness.

Your hands slid down her sides, grounding her as she whimpered again, her nails digging faintly into your skin. “I… I can’t believe…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, the slickness between you evidence of just how thoroughly you’d filled her.

Her body relaxed gradually, the tension in her muscles giving way to the soft, warm haze of afterglow. But even as she melted into you, her oversensitive body still twitched faintly with each aftershock. She blinked slowly, her gaze glassy and unfocused as a faint, dazed smile curved her lips.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips against her damp forehead, your breaths mingling as you murmured, “You were perfect, Natty. Every single part of you.”

Her body slackened beneath you, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. The combination of your warmth inside her, the lingering tension of the plug, and the complete fulfillment of finally letting go left her trembling. Yet, despite her exhaustion, her arms tightened around you, her hands resting against your back as though she was afraid to let you go.

Her lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” The words were soft, raw with emotion, her head tilting slightly to nuzzle against your shoulder. Her breath tickled your skin as she sighed deeply, a sound that carried both relief and contentment.

You stayed close, your fingers tracing gentle circles along her thighs, soothing the trembling muscles. The room was still, the quiet filled only with the sound of your breathing and the occasional faint whimper as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensations still radiating through her. The intimacy of the moment held you both in its grasp, neither of you willing to break the connection.

As your muscles began to relax, you shifted slightly, preparing to pull back. But the moment you started to move, her legs clamped around you, her hands gripping your shoulders with surprising strength. “No,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent. “Don’t… not yet.”

You stilled, your gaze meeting hers. Her wide, vulnerable eyes held a pleading look that spoke volumes, and you felt her inner walls flutter faintly around you, still pulsing in the aftermath of her climax. “I need this,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Stay… please.”

You exhaled softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll stay.”

Her body relaxed again beneath you, her legs loosening slightly but still holding you close. She shifted just enough to get comfortable, her head nestled into the crook of your neck, her breaths warm against your skin. The intimacy was almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so deeply connected both physically and emotionally grounding you both.

Time seemed to blur as the exhaustion began to take over. Her body molded against yours, her hands resting lightly on your back as her breaths evened out. Despite the fullness she still felt, her body relaxed entirely. It wasn’t discomfort anymore; it was a sense of being whole, of closeness she didn’t want to end.

“Natty,” you murmured softly, brushing your lips against her temple. “I’m just moving us. I’ve got you.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, her voice barely audible as her head nestled further into the crook of your neck. Carefully, you rolled her over, cradling her as you shifted until she was on top of you. The change in position was smoother than expected, her lighter frame settling easily against your chest. She sighed softly, her cheek pressed to your collarbone, her body melting into yours like she belonged there.

“This is better,” you murmured, your hands tracing soothing patterns along her back. “Easier for me to hold you.”

She mumbled something incoherent, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction. The warmth of her breath against your skin made you smile, and you began to pepper soft kisses across her face. You started at her temple, trailing down to her cheek, then across the bridge of her nose. Each kiss was tender, deliberate, a quiet celebration of everything you’d just shared.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you murmured between kisses. “You’ve been incredible.”

She hummed again, the sound low and contented, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Her body relaxed even further against yours, the tension completely melting away as your words wrapped around her.

Your hands moved to her hair, threading through the strands gently as you continued to speak. “You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice soft and warm. “I’m so proud of you. So proud of how far you’ve come.”

Her arms tightened around you, her fingers clutching softly at your sides as she sighed deeply. The rise and fall of her chest against yours slowed, her breathing evening out as her exhaustion began to take over. Her head tilted slightly, her lips brushing against your collarbone in a gesture so faint it was almost subconscious.

As her breathing deepened, you felt her weight grow heavier against you, her body finally succumbing to sleep. You wrapped your arms more securely around her, pressing one final kiss to her forehead as her face relaxed into the softest expression of peace.

“Sweet dreams, Natty,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a tranquil stillness, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you both as you closed your eyes. Still connected, still grounded in each other, you let sleep take you, the warmth of her presence the last thing you felt before drifting off.

Afterward, she lay curled against your chest, her body trembling faintly as the intensity of the night ebbed away. Her breaths were soft and uneven, her cheek pressed against your skin, her warmth melding into yours. You brushed a hand through her hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands as you pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“You did it,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with pride. “You made it. And you were perfect.”

Her lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice fragile and barely audible, as though speaking too loudly would break the delicate serenity of the moment.

You smirked slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting as your hand drifted to her back, tracing lazy circles against her skin. The rhythmic motion was soothing, grounding her as she nestled closer into your embrace. “Don’t forget this feeling, Natty,” you said, your tone steady but laced with affection. “You earned it.”

A soft hum escaped her lips, her exhaustion pulling her deeper into the comfort of your arms. Her body slackened, her breathing evening out as she surrendered completely, her trust in you evident in every relaxed line of her form.

You lay there quietly, the room settling into a peaceful stillness. The faint scent of her lingered in the air, a reminder of the passion and vulnerability she’d shared with you. A quiet pride swelled in your chest. She had given herself over to you fully, trusted you with every part of herself, and in return, you’d given her everything she had needed—and more.

As she drifted into sleep, her body curled protectively against yours, you held her close, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. For now, the storm was over, and you both could bask in the calm it left behind.

[kpop-idolxx4]

Natty

[electro469]

Special Enlistment - 2 | Natty (KIOF) smut

When the new military lottery system stuns the nation by selecting KISS OF LIFE’s Natty as the first foreign idol for the Special Enlistment Program, the entire country erupts in celebration of her “patriotic duty.” But behind the flashing cameras and forced smiles, the Thai dancer is quietly terrified — trapped for one week in a remote camp with six soldiers and no escape. What begins as a national honor soon spirals into the week that will either break her spirit… or reshape her entire future.

Chapter 1

The air inside the S2 Entertainment common room was thick, sweet, and cloying, heavy with the scent of buttered popcorn, spilled soda, and the metallic tang of adrenaline. It was a suffocating cocktail of festivity, a grotesque carnival atmosphere that permeated every corner of the lavish space. Banners emblazoned with patriotic slogans and the agency logo hung crookedly from the ceiling, fluttering in the draft of the air conditioning. Cameras ringed the perimeter, their red recording lights blinking like the eyes of impatient predators, capturing every micro-expression for the "reaction content" that would undoubtedly flood the internet within minutes.

On the massive, wall-mounted television screen, a montage played on a loop, the image sharp enough to cut glass. It was footage from the previous year’s "Special Enlistment." There was Jang Wonyoung, the nation’s sweetheart, glowing with an incandescent, almost artificial radiance. She was dressed in a flowing, maternity-style hanbok, one hand resting delicately on the undeniable swell of her pregnant belly. The caption beneath her beaming, beatific face pulsed in time with the triumphant orchestral score: *Living National Treasure.*

Natty sat curled on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, her knees drawn up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was a vision of casual dorm comfort in an oversized hoodie that swallowed her petite frame and a pair of tiny denim shorts that left her long, golden-tan legs exposed to the cool, recycled air. To the untrained eye, to the managers and the staff buzzing around her, she looked the picture of an attentive, nervous idol. But beneath the polite, mask-like smile she wore, her stomach was churning with a cold, corrosive rot.

She watched the screen, watched Wonyoung accept the adulation of millions, and felt nothing but a profound sense of revulsion. *Living National Treasure?* The phrase tasted like ash in her mouth. They paraded her around like a prized heifer at a livestock show, celebrated not for her vocals or her dance, but for her womb, for her biological utility to the state. It was degrading. It was humiliating. And Natty wanted absolutely no part of it.

Around the coffee table, the staff chattered animatedly, their voices rising over the TV’s audio.

"It’s so much better this way," a manager declared, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. "Last year, everyone cried foul about favoritism. Said the big agencies bought the spots. But the lottery? The pool system? It’s pure democracy. The troops submit their favorites, and the computer picks a name. It’s fair. It’s patriotic."

"It’s genius marketing," a stylist added, fluffing a pillow. "The soldiers feel involved. They feel like they have a say. The engagement numbers for the nominations were insane this year."

Natty tuned them out, her fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa. *Democracy,* she thought bitterly. *A lottery where the prize is your own body.* She was Thai, a foreigner in a land that demanded absolute assimilation. She had navigated the complex, often suffocating hierarchy of the Korean industry for years, smiling when she was supposed to smile, bowing when she was supposed to bow. But this? She felt a detachment that bordered on safety. She wasn't Korean. She didn't hold that burning, ingrained sense of national duty that the locals seemed to have. The idea of becoming a "freeuse cumdump"—the term whispered in the darkest corners of the internet, now practically mainstream slang—for a bunch of sweaty, nameless soldiers was repulsive to her core.

*They wouldn’t pick me,* she reassured herself, the mantra looping in her mind. *I’m not Korean. It doesn’t work that way. I’m safe.*

"Unnie, are you nervous?" Haneul bounced on the balls of her feet beside her, eyes wide with manic energy. "I bet it’s someone big. Maybe Aespa? Or Le Sserafim?"

Natty forced a smile, tilting her head in that practiced way that made her eyes crinkle sweetly. "I think anyone would be lucky, Haneul-ah. It is… very big honor."

It was a lie. A smooth, practiced lie. Internally, she was rolling her eyes so hard it hurt. *Honor?* It was state-sanctioned gang-rape dressed up as patriotism.

Julie, sitting on the armrest next to her, elbowed Natty in the ribs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Imagine if it was one of us, though. The fame alone would be insane. Did you see Wonyoung’s CF deals after she came back? Every brand wants a piece of the 'Mother of the Nation.' It’s iconic."

"An icon who got gangbanged by a squad," Natty thought, her inner voice sharp and biting. She kept her mouth shut, offering only a shy nod. "That would be… very intense, Julie-unnie. I don't know if I could be that brave."

The room erupted in giggles and speculative whispers. Natty felt a cold prickle of sweat break out along her hairline. She smoothed the fabric of her shorts, focusing on the rhythmic thumping of her own heart.

The TV screen flickered, cutting to a live feed of a large, ornate auditorium. The room fell silent instantly, the air crackling with electric tension. A stern-faced spokesperson in a crisp dress uniform stepped up to the podium, a large transparent container beside him filled with thousands of swirling white balls.

"Citizens of the Republic of Korea," he began, his voice booming through the surround sound system, deep and resonant. "Today marks the sixth installment of the yearly Special Enlistment Program. In response to the overwhelming desire of our fighting men and women, we have implemented the new Troop Nomination Pool."

Graphics flashed on the screen—bar charts climbing higher and higher. "Over the past month, every active duty soldier was invited to submit the name of their favorite female idol. The response was historic. Millions of nominations flooded our servers. Today, from that pool of desire, one name will be chosen by the hand of fate itself."

Natty watched, detached, almost bored, trying to focus on the lint on her hoodie. *Just a formality,* she told herself. *Just a show.*

The spokesperson reached into the container. The camera zoomed in, capturing the slow-motion turn of his wrist. He pulled out a single white ball. He cracked it open and unfolded the paper inside.

A hush fell over the common room. It was so quiet Natty could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchenette.

The spokesperson adjusted his glasses, his face breaking into a wide, rehearsed smile. "The next idol selected for Special Enlistment… representing S2 Entertainment… from KISS OF LIFE…"

Natty’s breath hitched in her throat, a sudden, inexplicable coldness spreading through her veins, freezing her blood.

"…NATTY!"

Time seemed to warp and bend. The sound that followed wasn't a cheer, but a sonic boom, a detonation of pure noise. The room exploded. Julie screamed, a high-pitched sound of delight, grabbing Natty by the shoulders and shaking her violently. Belle was crying, covering her mouth in shock, tears streaming down her face. Haneul was jumping up and down, shouting something that Natty couldn't process through the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

Every head in the room snapped toward her. The staff, the cameras, the other idols. Every eye was fixed on her. Natty sat frozen, her hands gripping her knees, her knuckles turning white. Her smile was frozen in place, a rictus of horror.

*Impossible.*

*My name is Anatchaya Suputtipong. I am Thai. I am not Korean.*

"Wait, what?" she whispered, the words barely escaping her throat. Her Thai accent, usually a soft, endearing lilt, sounded thick and clumsy to her own ears.

The manager was already on his phone, barking orders with frantic energy. "Cancel the schedule for next week! All of it! Call the PR team! We need to prepare a statement immediately! Get the medical team on standby for the pre-enlistment physical!"

Julie hugged her tight, squeezing the air out of her lungs, the smell of her perfume cloying. "Natty! Oh my god, Natty! You did it! You’re the chosen one! The soldiers picked you!"

Natty felt like she was underwater, the sounds muted and distorted, the world swirling in sickening colors. *Chosen?* No. *Hunted.*

"You’re gonna be famous like Wonyoung!" Belle beamed through her tears, reaching out to squeeze Natty’s hand, her touch hot and clammy. "Everyone is going to love you."

The implication hung heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket. They wanted her. Not for her voice. Not for her dance covers. They wanted her body. They wanted to use her until she was dripping with their cum, just like Wonyoung. The thought made her gorge rise.

Natty’s stomach churned violently, the popcorn she had eaten threatening to come back up. The room was spinning. The flashing cameras felt like searchlights hunting her down, exposing her, stripping her bare before she had even taken off her clothes. The congratulatory smiles on her group members' faces looked like masks of madness. They were happy for her? Happy she was being sent off to be a communal toy?

She had to get out.

She had to get out *now*.

"I… excuse me," Natty mumbled, standing up abruptly. Her legs felt weak, like jelly. "I need… air. Just for a moment."

She turned and fled.

She moved blindly, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and desperate. The hallway of the dormitory stretched out before her, a long, narrow tunnel of sterile white walls and polished floors. Staff members passed her, offering thumbs up and shouts of "Congratulations, Natty-ya!" but she didn't see them. She only saw the exit.

Her bare feet slapped against the cold floor, the sound echoing in her ears—*thud-thud-thud*—a frantic rhythm. She could hear the chatter fading behind her, replaced by the rushing of blood in her own head. The distance to her room felt like miles, the door a sanctuary that refused to come closer.

*I am Thai,* her mind screamed, a desperate, repetitive mantra. *I don’t belong to them. I don’t belong to this country. This is a mistake.*

But the announcement played on a loop in her head, taunting her. *The troops have spoken.* They didn't care about her passport. They didn't care about her heritage. They had nominated her, thousands of them. They had voted for her ass, her legs, her pretty face. They had thrown her name into the hat with the sole intention of fucking her.

She finally reached the door to her private room. Her hand shook so violently she could barely grip the handle. She shoved it open, stumbled inside, and slammed it shut with all her strength.

The heavy wood clicked shut, sealing her in silence.

She scrambled to lock it, her fingers fumbling with the deadbolt, the metal cold and unforgiving against her skin. *Click. Click.* It was secure.

Natty slid down the door, her back scraping against the wood until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her hands, trying to block out the world. The fabric of the hoodie scratched against her face, smelling of laundry detergent and fear. She could still hear the distant, muffled cheers from the common room, the sound of her own doom being celebrated.

Her mind was completely blank. There were no thoughts, no prayers, no protests. Just a vast, terrifying emptiness. The silence of the room pressed against her, heavy and suffocating. She sat there in the dim light, her chest heaving, staring at the blank wall, waiting for the world to make sense again. But it didn’t. It never would.

Chapter 2

The pale light of the laptop screen was the only illumination in the room, casting a ghostly blue pallor over Natty’s face. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the pixelated faces of her parents in Thailand. They were thousands of miles away, yet the worry lines etched around their eyes felt close enough to touch.

"Nat," her mother said, her voice thick with sleeplessness. "There must be a way. The embassy… can they not do something?"

Natty shook her head slowly, the movement heavy, like her neck was made of lead. Tears tracked silently through her makeup, staining her cheeks. "I call them this morning, Mom. They say… nothing. Because I accept the idol visa, I agree to the 'cultural integration' clauses. It is mandatory now. The law… it change last night."

Her father, usually a pillar of stoic strength, looked defeated, his gaze dropping to his hands. "But to send you to… to those men. It is not right. It is not our way."

"If I say no," Natty whispered, her voice cracking, the Thai accent thickening with her distress, "they cancel visa. Deport. Blacklist. I never come back to Korea. I never sing again. Career… over."

The silence on the other end was deafening. It was the silence of people who had raised their daughter to be a star, only to watch the sky fall on her. The guilt was a physical weight, pressing down on Natty’s chest, making it hard to breathe. She wasn't just a victim; she was a burden.

"We will pray for you, Natty," her mother whispered finally, tears welling in her own eyes. "Just… survive."

The call ended with a abrupt click. The screen went black, and Natty was left alone in the dark with the echo of her mother’s fear.

Before she could dissolve into a sob, a sharp knock rattled the door.

"Natty-unnie?" It was Haneul’s voice, muffled but bright. "Open up! Please?"

Natty scrambled to wipe her face, the rough sleeve of her hoodie stinging her damp skin. she took a shuddering breath, forcing the mask back on—the polite, smiling idol the world expected. She stood up, her legs shaky, and unlocked the door.

As soon as the latch clicked, the door pushed open, and the rest of KISS OF LIFE tumbled in. Julie, Belle, and Haneul. They were a blur of pastel loungewear and frantic energy.

"Jesus, Natty," Julie exclaimed, enveloping her in a hug that smelled of vanilla body wash and expensive perfume. "We were so worried! You’ve been in here for like, sixteen hours."

"We thought you were sick," Belle added, brushing a stray hair from Natty’s face, her eyes wide with concern. "Or… or hiding."

"I am okay," Natty lied, her voice raspy. She stepped back, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Just… needed rest."

Haneul sat down next to her, taking her hand. "Is it the comments online? Because people are being so weird about the foreigner thing. They’re saying the troops voted for you because… well, you know."

"Because I look exotic," Natty finished dully. "Because I am Thai."

"They’ll get over it," Julie said firmly, pacing the small room. "It’s just noise. The important thing is the opportunity. But that’s not why you’re hiding, right?"

Natty looked at them—at their bright, eager eyes, their genuine concern. They were her sisters. But they were also part of the machine. They were looking at the situation through the lens of the industry: fame, exposure, scandal management. They weren't looking at it through the lens of a human being about to be stripped of her dignity.

She couldn't hold it in. The words tasted like bile, but she had to spit them out.

"It is not the comments," Natty whispered, staring at her knees. "It is… the program itself."

The room went quiet.

"You think I want this?" Natty’s voice rose, trembling. "You think I am happy to go… be a toy? A 'freeuse' doll for soldiers? It is disgusting. I am Thai. I do not care about Korean military. I do not want to be… bred by strangers. It is humiliating. It makes me feel like… meat."

She looked up, expecting shock, expecting solidarity. Instead, she saw three faces scrunch up in confusion, followed quickly by pity.

"Oh, Natty," Belle sighed, reaching out to rub her back. "You’re overthinking it. You’re looking at it the wrong way."

"Wrong way?" Natty repeated, incredulous.

"It’s not about being meat," Julie said, crouching down so she was eye-level with Natty. "It’s about power. Think about it. Wonyoung went in a girl and came out a queen. She controls the narrative now. She’s the *Mother of the Nation*."

"It is just one week," Haneul chimed in, squeezing Natty’s hand. "And okay, yeah, the sex part is… intense. But we’re idols, Natty. We sell sex every day. We wear bikinis, we dance on tables, we do sexy concepts. This is just… the ultimate version of that. It’s just performance art with real dicks."

Natty stared at her, mouth slightly open. The logic was so twisted, so absurd, it left her speechless.

"Think of the doors that will open," Belle pressed, her eyes shining. "The 'Pregnancy Decree' reward alone is enough to set you up for life. And the fame? You’ll be the most famous person in the country. Foreigners everywhere will look up to you."

"You’ll be a bridge," Julie said, nodding vigorously. "Cultural ambassador. Plus… you get to sleep with hot soldiers. Is it really that bad? It’s just sex. You’ve had sex before."

Natty felt the walls closing in. The peer pressure was a suffocating blanket, smothering her resistance. They weren't hearing her pain; they were hearing a marketing problem to be solved. They were reciting the company line, the national delusion, with terrifying enthusiasm.

"But… I don't want it," Natty whispered, a last, feeble protest.

Julie grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently, a manic grin on her face. "You don’t have to *want* it, Natty. You just have to *do* it. And when you come back, with that belly full of glory? You’ll thank us."

The three of them descended on her, hugging her, laughing, talking over each other about outfits for the press conference and "pregnancy glow" skincare routines. Natty sat in the center of the tornado of affection, her body stiff, her mind blank. She looked at the lock on her door, then back at her group members. The agency, the visa, the law, the fans, and now her own friends.

There was no way out.

The fight drained out of her, leaving her hollow. She felt a strange detachment, as if she were watching herself from the ceiling. Natty nodded slowly, a puppet with cut strings.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I'll go."

The girls screamed in delight, tackling her back onto the bed in a group hug. Natty stared up at the ceiling, a fake, plastic smile stretching her lips until her face hurt. She felt nothing. Nothing but a cold, creeping dread that settled deep in the marrow of her bones.

* * *

The next morning, the noise was deafening.

The military headquarters in Seoul was under siege. Not by enemies, but by cameras. Thousands of press personnel, fans, and curious onlookers packed the square, a writhing sea of humanity held back by barricades and riot police. The air vibrated with the roar of the crowd, chanting her name.

"Nat-ty! Nat-ty! Nat-ty!"

She stood backstage, the makeup artist applying one last layer of gloss to her lips. Natty looked at herself in the mirror. The agency had dressed her carefully—modest enough for the "respectable" press conference, yet undeniably sexy for the troops. A tight, white silk blouse that strained slightly against her chest, a high-waisted black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and ended mid-thigh, and sheer black tights.

But the worst part was the necklace. Around her neck, gleaming under the harsh backstage lights, hung a pair of silver military dog tags. They were cold against her skin, heavy, a constant reminder of her ownership. *Property of the ROK Army.*

"You look perfect, Natty-ssi," her manager said, giving her a thumbs up. "Just remember the talking points. Honored. Excited. Ready to serve."

"I know," she said softly.

"Showtime."

She walked out onto the stage.

The flash of cameras was blinding, a wall of white light that obliterated the world. The roar of the crowd hit her like a physical wave. She walked to the podium, her heels clicking on the polished wood, the microphone stand adjusted perfectly for her height. She gripped the edges, her knuckles white, and pasted on her dazzling idol smile.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she said, her voice ringing clearly through the speakers. "I am KISS OF LIFE’s Natty."

The applause was thunderous.

The press conference began. The questions flew fast and hard, shouted by reporters straining to be heard.

"Natty-ssi! How does it feel to be the very first foreign idol selected for the Special Enlistment?"

Natty leaned into the mic, her expression one of demure gratitude. "Honestly, I feel… very honored. It is big surprise for me. But to be chosen by the brave soldiers… it make me feel like I am truly part of this country now. I am… very happy."

Inside, she was screaming. *Part of this country? I’m a breeding sow for you.*

"There has been some controversy regarding the inclusion of foreign nationals in the program," another reporter shouted. "Do you think this represents a new era of acceptance for idols like yourself?"

Natty nodded, her long black hair swaying. "I think so. The military… they show that love for K-pop and love for Korea is for everyone, not just Korean people. I am grateful to be a bridge between cultures."

She wanted to vomit. A bridge between cultures? Is that what they called a gangbang lottery now?

"And finally, Natty-ssi," the lead reporter asked, a predatory gleam in his eye. "The ultimate reward. The 'Living National Treasure' status. Wonyoung-ssi famously returned with a child. Are you and your family hoping for a similar outcome? Are you aiming for the military pregnancy?"

The crowd held its breath. The cameras zoomed in, capturing every micro-expression.

Natty paused, pretending to be shy. She looked down, then up, her eyes glistening with fake emotion. "Well… that is… very personal. But… if it happen, it would be huge honor. I know the soldiers… they work hard. To give them that gift… it would be dream come true."

The crowd erupted in cheers. "Natty! Natty! Natty!"

She kept smiling. She waved. She bowed. She stood there on the stage, bathed in adoration and light, while her mind dragged her down into the dark. She could feel the phantom weight of hands on her body, dozens of hands, rough and demanding. She could smell the imaginary scent of sweat and gun oil. She could feel the ghost of a cock forcing its way into her throat, choking her, while the nation watched and cheered.

She stepped back from the podium, the applause ringing in her ears, and walked off stage. As soon as she was out of the spotlight, the smile dropped from her face, leaving her pale and trembling.

She had fourty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours until she was delivered to her misery. She touched the cold metal of the dog tags against her chest, a shiver racking her slender frame. The game was over. The enlistment had begun.

Chapter 3

The dawn over Seoul was gray and unforgiving, a cold mist clinging to the asphalt of the military headquarters. The air smelled of diesel and impending rain. Natty stood by the heavy iron gate, the collar of her coat turned up against the chill, though the cold she felt was bone-deep and had nothing to do with the weather.

Her manager stood a few feet away, checking his watch, his face a mask of professional indifference. Around her, the three members of KISS OF LIFE were a whirlwind of pastel puffers and frantic affection.

"You're going to be amazing," Julie whispered, squeezing Natty so tightly her ribs creaked. "Just remember what we said. Own it. You're the queen in there."

Belle was crying, her mascara already smudging slightly. "We'll be waiting for you. Every single day. Call if you can… or, well, just come back to us."

"It's just a week!" Haneul added, her voice trembling with forced cheerfulness. "Then you're back, and we'll have the biggest party ever."

Natty nodded mechanically, her lips stretching into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I know. I will be okay. Don't worry."

Her parents weren't there. They were in Bangkok, helpless and grieving over a video call. She was alone. Truly alone.

"Time to go," the manager said, tapping his watch.

Natty disentangled herself from the group hug. She picked up her small duffel bag—her only luggage for the week—and turned toward the gate. It loomed above her, a spike-topped monstrosity of black steel. She took a deep breath, held it, and stepped across the threshold.

*Clang.*

The heavy metal gate slammed shut behind her. The sound was final, like a tombstone sealing. The laughter and goodbyes of her members were instantly cut off, replaced by the sharp, barking orders of drill instructors and the rhythmic stomp of boots on pavement. She was inside the belly of the beast now.

The processing that followed was a blur of bureaucratic indifference. An officer, his face blank and eyes dead, led her through a series of grey corridors. They stopped at the Enlistment Office for papers—forms signing away her image rights, her medical data, her bodily autonomy for the duration of the service. Natty signed them without reading, her hand moving on autopilot.

Then came the medical examination. It was a sterile, white room that smelled of antiseptic and latex. A female doctor, middle-aged with sharp features and no-nonsense hands, instructed Natty to strip.

Natty stood on the scale, then against the wall for height measurements. The doctor poked and prodded, measuring her bust, waist, and hips with clinical roughness, calling out the numbers to a nurse scribbling on a clipboard.

"Blood," the doctor commanded, gesturing to the chair.

Natty sat, rolling up her sleeve. The needle pinched, and her dark blood filled the vial. Ten minutes later, the doctor was reviewing the results on a tablet. She frowned, looking over her spectacles at Natty.

"You are on hormonal contraceptives," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Natty said softly. "Since… long time. For skin, and… cycle."

The doctor’s expression didn't waver. "Strictly prohibited under Article 4 of the Special Enlistment Act. TKne of The goal of the program is maximum fertility. You cannot have synthetic hormones interfering with the troops'… objectives."

Natty felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Oh. I… I stop now?"

"You stop now," the doctor confirmed, typing something into the file. "Your system will flush itself out within 24 hours. Given your age and health, you should be extremely fertile by day three. Be aware."

She handed Natty a small paper cup with two pills. "These are multivitamins and folic acid. Take them daily."

Natty swallowed them dry. *Fertile by day three.* The words echoed in her head. She had clung to the secret hope that her birth control might offer a sliver of protection against the "Pregnancy Decree," but that hope was now dead. They wanted her bare. They wanted her open.

She was ushered out of the medical wing and into a waiting military transport vehicle—a windowless van with bench seats. The ride was thirty minutes of suffocating silence. The van bumped over unpaved roads, taking her further and further from the city, from the lights, from civilization. When the doors finally opened, the air that rushed in was crisp, pine-scented, and heavy with the silence of the mountains.

This was Camp Mujo.

Natty stepped out, her boots crunching on gravel. The camp was a cluster of low-slung buildings nestled in a valley, surrounded by dense forest. It was isolated. Inescapable.

A line of men stood at attention in the central courtyard. They were dressed in combat fatigues, their boots polished to a mirror shine, their stances rigid. This was her squad.

Natty walked toward them, the officer who had driven her standing silently behind her. As she approached, the Captain stepped forward.

"Attention!" he barked.

The men snapped their heels together.

"At ease." The Captain’s eyes locked onto Natty. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that was handsome in a cruel, arrogant way. He had a jawline that looked like it could cut glass and a smirk that suggested he knew exactly how much power he held.

"Welcome to Camp Mujo, Ma'am," he said, his voice booming, echoing off the mountains. "I am Captain Kang Dae-hyun. This is Squad 4-2. We are… honored to be your hosts."

He didn't sound honored. He sounded like a wolf looking at a cornered lamb.

"Introduce yourselves," Kang commanded.

One by one, they stepped forward, their eyes raking over her body, undressing her before she had even taken off her coat.

"Sergeant Kim Ji-hoon." He was older, his face stern, eyes cold and calculating. He didn't smile. He just looked at her with an intensity that promised rough, efficient use. No talking, no feelings, just business.

"Corporal Lee Min-seok." He was younger, with a charming, boyish face and a glint of mischief in his eyes. He winked at her. "We've been waiting a long time for you, noona."

"Private Park Seung-min." He looked like a high school student, baby-faced and slight. But when he looked at her, his blush was matched by a hunger that was pure and unfiltered.

"Private Choi Hyun-woo." He was sneering slightly, his lip curled. He radiated arrogance, his eyes darting over her chest and legs with a possessiveness that annoyed her immediately.

"Private Jang Soo-bin." He didn't speak, just nodded. He was a mountain of a man, thick-necked and broad, his muscles straining against his uniform. He was the brute force, silent and terrifying.

Captain Kang waved a hand dismissively. "That’s enough. You know the drill."

The officer who had driven Natty handed Captain Kang a clipboard. Kang signed it with a flourish, not even looking at the paper. The officer saluted, got back in the van, and drove away.

Natty was alone. Truly alone.

"Private Park," Kang barked. "Show the guest to the barracks. Get her settled."

"Yes, sir!" Park Seung-min snapped to attention, then turned to Natty, his face breaking into a shy, eager smile. "This way, noona. Come on."

He led her across the courtyard, the other five men watching her go, their gazes burning holes in her back.

"It's not much," Park said as they walked toward a long, low building. "But it's home. Here's the mess hall—that's where we eat. And that's the training field over there. We do most of our PT there."

He pointed to a smaller, separate building. "Shower block. We have specific times, but… for you, I think you can go whenever you want."

They entered the barracks. It was a long room with rows of bunk beds on either side. At the far end, however, was a single bed, neatly made, separated from the others by a small partition.

"That's yours," Park said, gesturing to the single bed. It had fresh sheets and a pillow that looked slightly fluffier than the rest.

"Thank you," Natty said softly, putting her duffel bag down on the mattress.

Park stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked at the bed, then at her, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "You know… it's a nice bed. Really comfortable. But… you’re probably not gonna be sleeping in it much, noona."

Natty froze, her hand resting on the strap of her bag. "What?"

Park’s face turned red, but he didn't look away. "It's just… this is our first time. Getting a Special Enlistment. The guys… we've all read the reports. We know what happens. We’re just… really excited. We’re gonna want to be with you. A lot."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "There's a rule. For the first night… it belongs entirely to the Captain."

Natty’s stomach dropped.

"He likes to… break things in," Park continued, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Just… don't deny him anything he orders. If you listen, if you're good, he's actually decent. He can be generous. But if you fight him… if you make it difficult… he can be a real pain in the ass. And the Sergeant… he doesn't like drama."

He looked at her with wide, earnest eyes. "Just survive tonight, noona. After that… we’ll take care of you."

With that, he gave a quick salute and turned, leaving her alone in the quiet of the barracks.

Natty stood in the center of the room, the silence ringing in her ears. She looked at the bed, then at the empty room. She could hear the distant sounds of the camp—the clang of metal, the shout of an order.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling hands. Her mind raced, flashing images of the men she had just met.

Captain Kang. The arrogant prick who thought he owned her already. She could feel his phantom hands gripping her hips, bruising her.

Sergeant Kim. The cold one. He would use her like a tool, efficient and merciless.

Corporal Lee. The charmer. He would want to play games, to tease her until she begged.

Private Choi. The loudmouth. He would want to humiliate her, to show off.

Private Jang. The brute. He would simply take, regardless of what she wanted.

And Park. The baby-faced pervert who acted like a friend but would probably be the roughest of all.

She was surrounded. Trapped in a valley of wolves, her fertility artificially boosted, her birth control gone, her body no longer her own.

"Just one week," she whispered to the empty room, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. "Just smile. Just survive. And get out."

She walked to the narrow window and looked out. The sun was setting over the mountains, casting long, dark shadows across the camp. It looked beautiful. It looked like a prison.

Chapter 4

The mess hall was a cavernous, echo-chamber of steel and noise, filled with the clatter of metal trays and the low, rumble of masculine conversation. Natty sat at the long table, feeling like a small, exotic bird that had accidentally flown into a cage of wolves. The air smelled of boiled cabbage, cheap meat, and the unmistakable musk of sixty men living in close quarters.

She picked at her food with her fork, pushing a limp piece of radish around her tray. Her stomach was a tight knot of anxiety, making eating impossible. Across from her, the six members of Squad 4-2 were devouring their meals with the voracious energy of men who spent all day training.

"So, noona," Private Choi Hyun-woo said, his mouth half-full of rice, leaning forward with a grin that was all teeth. "Is it true what they say? That idol food is specially prepared by nutritionists? This stuff tastes like wet cardboard compared to what you're used to, huh?"

Natty forced a polite smile, her hand trembling slightly on her fork. "It is… different. But I am okay. Thank you for asking."

"She's polite," Corporal Lee Min-seok chimed in, winking at her. "Captain, you think they teach manners in those fancy agencies, or is she just naturally sweet?"

Captain Kang Dae-hyun sat at the head of the table. He didn’t look at her. He just ate, his movements precise and efficient, radiating an aura of bored impatience. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it onto his tray.

"Enough," Kang said, his voice cutting through the chatter.

The table went silent.

"Natty," he said, not looking at her, staring at the empty spot on the table. "Finish up. You’re coming with me."

A ripple of excitement went through the squad. Private Park Seung-min choked slightly on his water. Private Jang Soo-bin, the brute, stopped chewing entirely, his eyes widening.

"Yes, Captain," Natty whispered, her appetite vanishing entirely. She put her fork down, the metal clinking loudly in the sudden quiet.

"Get it, Captain!" Private Choi shouted, pumping his fist.

"Shut your mouth," Kang snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. He stood up, towering over the table. "You have PT at 0500. If I hear a single peep out of this barracks before then, you’ll all be running until you puke."

He turned and walked out, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.

Natty stood up slowly, her legs feeling like lead. The squad watched her go, a mix of envy and raw lust in their eyes. She could feel their gazes burning into her back, tracing the curve of her ass in her regulation shorts, imagining what was about to happen. She walked out of the mess hall into the cool night air, following the path to the Captain’s quarters.

The room was separate from the main barracks, a small, private cabin reserved for the commanding officer. It was sparse but slightly more luxurious than the bunks—a real bed, a desk, a chair. A lamp in the corner cast a warm, dim light over the space.

Kang was already inside, unbuttoning the top of his fatigue jacket. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Natty sat. She clasped her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers until they turned white.

Kang took his time, shrugging off the jacket and hanging it up. He turned to face her, leaning back against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked her up and down, not with admiration, but with a critical, assessing eye, like a mechanic inspecting a used car.

"You're nervous," he stated.

"Yes, Captain."

"Don't be. It's just protocol." He sighed, running a hand through his short, cropped hair. "I’ll be honest with you, Natty. My pick was someone else. Blackpink Jennie. You know the type? Classy. Korean. But HQ doesn’t care what I want. They sent me you."

He pushed off the desk and walked over to where she sat, stopping just inches from her knees. Natty had to crane her neck back to look at him.

"But," he continued, his eyes dropping to her chest, "I’m not complaining. The boys have worked hard this year. They deserve a reward. And frankly, looking at you… you’ve got a body made for this. Better than those stick-thin girls."

"Thank… you?" Natty whispered, unsure how to respond.

Kang chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "You're not very talkative for an idol. I thought you people were trained to entertain."

"I am sorry, Captain. I am just… tired."

"Tired." He smirked. "Well, you’re going to be a lot more tired when I’m done with you."

He reached out and hooked a finger under the collar of her shirt, tugging gently. "Stand up. Undress."

Natty’s heart hammered against her ribs. This was it. The point of no return. She stood up slowly, her legs trembling. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, folding it neatly despite her shaking hands. Then came her shorts. She stepped out of them, standing before him in just her bra and panties.

Kang let out a low whistle. "Jesus. Look at those legs."

He reached out, his rough hand sliding up her thigh, gripping the soft flesh of her hip. His touch was hot, possessive. He turned her around with a firm tug, inspecting her.

"Ass is fat, too," he muttered, giving her right cheek a squeeze that made her flinch. "Good. The guys like something to hold onto."

He spun her back to face him. "Take the rest off."

Natty unhooked her bra, letting it fall, exposing her perky, dark-tipped breasts to the cool air. Then she slid her panties down, kicking them away. She stood naked before him, vulnerable and humiliated, her golden-tan skin glowing in the dim light. She tried to cover herself with her arms, but he knocked them away.

"Don't," he commanded. "Hands at your sides."

She obeyed, forcing herself to stand tall while his eyes roamed over her most private places.

"Hips are wide," he noted clinically. "Good birthing hips. You Thai girls really are built for breeding, aren't you?"

The comment made her want to vomit, but she bit her tongue. *Just let it end,* she told herself. *Just let him finish.*

Kang unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He kicked them aside. He was already hard, his cock jutting out thick and angry. It wasn't the biggest she had ever seen, but the sight of it made her stomach churn with dread. It was a weapon. It was the instrument of her subjugation.

"On the bed," he said. "On your back. Legs open."

Natty crawled onto the narrow bed, the springs creaking under her weight. She lay back, spreading her legs as ordered, staring up at the ceiling, trying to detach her mind from her body.

Kang climbed on top of her, heavy and suffocating. He didn't kiss her. He didn't ask if she was ready. He just lined himself up and pushed inside.

Natty gasped, her back arching off the mattress. There was no foreplay, no preparation. He stretched her open, the sudden intrusion burning and sharp.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in her neck. "Tight. You're tight."

He began to move. His thrusts were hard and rhythmic, selfish. He wasn't trying to make her feel good; he was chasing his own release. His hips slapped against hers, the sound lewd and loud in the quiet room.

Natty lay there, her hands gripping the pillow above her head, her eyes squeezed shut. She felt like a piece of meat. Every time he pushed into her, she felt a jolt of humiliation. But her body… her body was betraying her. Weeks of nervous anticipation, the biology of her fertility flushing out her system, the sheer physical friction—it was all conspiring against her. She felt herself getting wet, her walls slickening to ease his passage, her nipples hardening against his chest.

"Ah," she let out a small, involuntary moan, quickly clamping her mouth shut.

Kang heard it. He laughed, his breath hot in her ear. "You like that, huh? You act shy, but your pussy doesn't lie. You're soaking wet."

He grabbed her legs, pushing them up toward her chest, folding her nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her see stars despite herself.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Natty opened her eyes. His face was flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. He looked wild, animalistic.

"Who owns you this week?" he grunted, pounding into her.

"You… Captain," she whimpered.

"Damn right."

He flipped them over suddenly, grabbing her waist and pulling her on top of him. "Ride me. Move those dancer hips."

Natty hesitated, unsure. He slapped her ass, sharp and stinging. "Move!"

She began to rock her hips, sliding up and down his length. Her dog tags, which she had forgotten to take off, bounced against her chest, jingling softly with every movement. The sound was mocking, a cheerful little chime accompanying her degradation.

Kang lay back, his hands behind his head, watching her. He watched her tits bounce, watched his cock disappear inside her, watched the flush spread across her golden skin. He was using her like a living fleshlight, enjoying the view, treating her like a performer in a private show just for him.

"Faster," he ordered.

Natty obeyed, her thighs burning with the effort. She felt the pressure building inside her, a coil of heat low in her belly that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with mechanics. She was disgusted with herself. *How can my body enjoy this?* she thought, tears pricking her eyes. *I am disgusting.*

"You Thai girls are flexible," he groaned, sitting up to suck on her nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud. "I bet you can do all kinds of positions."

He grabbed her hips and took control again, slamming up into her. The bed was squeaking loudly now, a rhythmic *squeak-squeak-squeak* that surely could be heard through the thin walls.

"Gonna cum," he grunted after what felt like an eternity. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," Natty whispered, the rules echoing in her head. The goal was pregnancy. The goal was breeding.

"Yeah? You want my soldier cum inside you?" He was getting close, his thrusts becoming erratic.

"Yes," she lied, her voice hollow. "Please."

"Take it then."

He let out a loud, guttural roar, his grip on her hips bruisingly tight. He thrust up one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and held himself there. Natty felt him pulse, hot and thick, filling her up. The sensation was intense and overwhelming, a sudden warmth flooding her insides. It triggered something in her, a small, unwanted shiver of pleasure that rippled through her limbs.

She collapsed on top of him, panting, her body slick with sweat.

Kang lay there for a moment, catching his breath. Then, without a word, he shoved her off him. Natty rolled onto the mattress, landing on her back. She felt a wet trickle of cum slide out of her, running down her thigh, pooling on the sheets.

Kang stood up, pulled on his boxers, and flopped into his side of the bed. Within seconds, his eyes were closed. He didn't cover her. He didn't say goodnight. He just started snoring, a deep, rattling sound that filled the room.

Natty lay in the dark, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling. Her body ached. Her heart felt like it had been hollowed out. She could feel the mess between her legs, cooling and sticky, a physical reminder of what she had just become.

She thought about her parents in Bangkok. She thought about her group members cheering her on. She thought about the thousands of soldiers who had voted for her, who saw her as nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure.

She blinked, and a single tear rolled down her temple and into her hair. She was Natty, the idol. Natty, the dancer. Now, she was just the Captain's cum dumpster.

And outside the door, five other men were waiting.

The week had barely begun.

Chapter 5

Consciousness returned to her not with a jolt, but with a heavy, suffocating drag, like rising from the bottom of a deep pool. Natty blinked, the morning light filtering through the thin blinds of the Captain’s quarters stinging her eyes. She was alone. The space beside her was empty, the sheets rumpled and still holding the faint, sour scent of Kang Dae-hyun’s sweat.

She shifted, a dull ache throbbing between her thighs, a persistent reminder of the night before. She was still completely naked, the cool air raising goosebumps on her golden-tan skin. The dog tags—the cold steel weight of her indenture—still hung around her neck, resting innocently against her collarbone. She stared at them, the metal glinting mockingly.

Voices drifted through the thin walls, shattering the morning silence. It was the squad. They were right outside, gathered in the courtyard for the morning briefing.

Natty froze, holding her breath.

"How was she, Captain?"

The voice was Corporal Lee Min-seok—teasing, eager.

A low, arrogant chuckle followed. Captain Kang. "She was alright. A little stiff. Probably scared of the new environment. Or maybe..." He paused, and Natty could picture the smirk on his face. "Maybe she was scared of getting ruined by all of us on day one."

The squad laughed. A chorus of deep, rumbling amusement that vibrated in Natty’s chest.

"Honest though?" Kang continued, his voice dropping, taking on a boastful edge. "That body? Fuck. It’s built for this. I’ve fucked a lot of women, officers and civilians, but that Thai pussy? Tightest, wettest thing I’ve ever had. It’s like she was molded for us. Now I get why they say Thai girls are the best in the world. I can’t wait to bury myself in that little cunt again tonight. It’s addictive."

"Gotta give the rest of us a chance, Captain," another voice piped up—Private Choi, the loudmouth. "You can't hog the recruit."

"Don't worry," Kang said dismissively. "She’s here for a week. We’ll all get a turn. Just make sure you respect the chain of command. I go first, then Sergeant Kim. You rookies get the scraps."

Lying there in the bed, Natty felt something inside her shift. It wasn't a snap, but a slow, grinding crack, like a tectonic plate settling into a new position.

She listened to them talk about her like she was a piece of equipment, a new rifle to be passed around the firing range. *Best fuck.* *Thai pussy.* *Scraps.*

She waited for the anger to come. She waited for the humiliation to burn hot enough to make her cry, or the nausea to make her run to the bathroom. But it didn't come. Instead, she felt a strange, cold numbness settle over her. The fight drained out of her, leaving behind a hollow vacuum.

*Why fight?* a voice whispered in her head. It was a dangerous voice, seductive and smooth. *This is what they want. This is what you are here for. Why pretend you’re an idol? Why pretend you have dignity? They won. The lottery won. The Captain won.*

She looked down at her body, at the dried cum flaking on her inner thighs. *I am meat,* she thought. The realization didn't disgust her anymore. It liberated her. If she was just meat, meat didn't have to worry about pride. Meat didn't have to worry about shame. Meat just existed to be consumed.

And if she was going to be consumed… she was going to enjoy the feast.

The voices outside faded as the squad broke formation and marched off toward the training field. Silence returned to the room, heavy and expectant.

A few minutes later, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Natty called out, her voice raspy but steady.

The door opened and Private Park Seung-min stepped in, balancing a metal tray in his hands. He was blushing furiously, his eyes darting around the room before landing on the bed.

"Good morning, noona," he stammered. "I brought you breakfast. The Captain said to make sure you ate."

He stopped dead.

Natty was sitting on the edge of the bed. She hadn't covered up. She was still completely naked, her legs slightly parted, her golden skin glowing in the shafts of morning light. Her hair was a messy dark halo around her head, and the Captain's release was still visible, a stark white contrast against the soft brown of her inner thighs.

Park stared, his mouth falling open slightly. The tray rattled in his hands.

Natty looked at him. Really looked at him. He was young—her age, maybe younger. Baby-faced. But beneath that shy exterior, she saw the hunger. She saw the way his pupils dilated as he traced the curve of her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, the damp junction of her legs.

She stood up.

"Noona?" Park squeaked, backing up until his heels hit the door frame. "I… I’ll just put the tray on the desk."

"Put it down," Natty said.

He hurriedly placed the tray on the desk, the silverware clattering. He turned to leave, but Natty was already moving. She crossed the small room in two long strides, her dancer’s legs eating up the distance.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform and shoved him back.

Park stumbled, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. "Noona, what are you—"

She kissed him. It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was a collision. She bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, tasting copper. She felt him freeze, then melt, his hands coming up instinctively to grab her waist.

"Noona, the Captain," he gasped against her mouth, his voice muffled. "If he finds out—"

"Fuck the Captain," Natty growled, the Thai accent thickening her voice, making it sound exotic and fierce. She grabbed his belt buckle, her fingers working with frantic, practiced speed. "I heard them. I know what I am. I know what you want."

She yanked his pants down. His cock sprang free, already half-hard. Natty wrapped her hand around him, squeezing tight. He was hot and heavy in her palm.

"I want to eat," she whispered, looking him dead in the eye. "And you’re breakfast."

Park’s eyes went wide, then rolled back as she dropped to her knees. She didn't tease. She didn't play the innocent idol. She took him into her mouth, deep, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand pumping the shaft. She sucked him hard, wet, and loud, determined to get him ready.

"Jesus," Park hissed, his hands tangling in her hair, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Noona… your mouth…"

She pulled away, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his cock. She stood up and dragged him toward the bed.

"Lie down," she commanded.

Park obeyed, scrambling onto the mattress, lying on his back, his cock standing straight up like a flagpole. He looked terrified, but he wasn't stopping her. He couldn't stop her.

Natty climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. She hovered over him, her knees sinking into the mattress. She reached down, guided him to her entrance, and sank down in one fluid motion.

They both groaned. Natty threw her head back, her neck arching beautifully. He filled her up, stretching her, the sensation mixing with the dull ache from the Captain to create a storm of sensation.

"Fuck," Park whimpered, his hands coming up to grip her thighs. "You’re so tight… and wet…"

"Shut up," Natty breathed. She placed her hands on his chest for leverage and began to move.

She started slow, rolling her hips in a circle, a dancer's grind. She used her core muscles, clenching around him, milking him. She felt powerful. For the first time since arriving at this hellhole, she was in control. She wasn't a victim lying on her back taking it; she was the rider. She was the one dictating the pace.

She picked up the tempo, bouncing on him, her ass slapping against his thighs with a wet, rhythmic *thwack-thwack-thwack*. Her dog tags jumped and jingled against her chest, a frantic metronome.

"Look at me," she ordered.

Park looked up, his eyes glazed with lust. She looked magnificent—sweat already beginning to sheen on her brown skin, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice breathless. "Is this what you voted for?"

"Yes," he groaned. "God, yes."

Natty smiled, a wicked, genuine smile. She spun around, keeping him inside her, turning to face his feet. She leaned forward, planting her hands on his knees, and began to ride him reverse cowgirl. This angle allowed her to take him even deeper, the head of his cock brushing against her cervix.

"Ahhh," she cried out, a long, broken moan. It wasn't forced. The pleasure was real, blooming in her lower belly, radiating out to her fingertips. Her body didn't care about the context. Her body just loved being filled.

She moved her ass like she was on stage, twerking on his dick, the muscles rippling. She reached down between her legs and rubbed her clit, the added stimulation sending sparks flying behind her eyelids.

"You're so big, Private," she lied, but it sounded good. "You're bigger than the Captain."

"Don't say that," Park gasped, but he thrust up into her, harder, spurred on by the dirty talk.

"It's true," she moaned. "Fuck me. Use me. I'm just a hole for you, right?"

"Yes," he hissed. "You're a hole. You're our little Thai fuck doll."

The words, so filthy and degrading, only pushed her higher. She accepted them. She embraced them. She *was* a doll right now, a toy, and she was going to be the best toy they ever had.

She rode him furiously, the bed squeaking in protest, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Sweat dripped down her back, pooling in the dimples of her spine. She could feel herself getting close, the coil tightening, the heat rising.

"Harder," she demanded.

Park grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and slammed up into her. He was fucking her back now, matching her rhythm, their bodies colliding with violent force.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned.

"Do it," Natty gasped, her fingers flying over her clit. "Cum inside me. Fill me up."

With a strangled cry, Park exploded. Natty felt him pulse, hot and thick, flooding her insides for the second time in twelve hours. The sensation triggered her own orgasm. Her back arched, her toes curled, and she screamed, a high-pitched, keening sound that echoed through the barracks. Her walls clenched around him, milking him for every drop, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her, drowning out the world.

She collapsed forward, panting, her face buried in the sheets. Her body twitched with aftershocks.

For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Then, Park shifted underneath her. He pushed at her shoulder gently. "Noona… get up."

Natty rolled off him, landing on her back beside him. She stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. She felt filthy. She felt used. And she felt amazing.

Park scrambled up, fumbling with his pants, his face pale. He looked at her with a mix of awe and terror.

"You… you can't tell anyone," he stammered, his hands shaking as he buttoned his fly. "Please, noona. You can't tell the Captain."

Natty turned her head to look at him, her eyes half-lidded and lazy. "Why not?"

"Because the Sergeant… and Corporal Lee… they're next in line," Park whispered, glancing at the door as if they were listening. "If they know I jumped the queue… if the Captain finds out I got sloppy seconds before he even had breakfast… they'll kill me. They'll make my life a living hell."

Natty laughed, a low, throaty sound. She stretched her arms over her head, luxuriating in the soreness.

"Don't worry, Private," she purred, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. "Your secret is safe with me."

She watched him exhale a breath he didn't know he was holding. He grabbed the tray from the desk, though the food was surely cold now.

"Eat your breakfast," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "I… I have to go."

He fled the room, leaving the door ajar.

Natty lay there alone again, the morning light fully illuminating the room. She felt cum leaking out of her, a warm, sticky reminder of her morning exercise. She thought about Park's fear, about the hierarchy of the squad.

Sergeant Kim. Corporal Lee. They were next.

She smiled, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She was just meat. But tonight, she was going to be the most expensive cut of meat they had ever tasted.

Chapter 6

The afternoon sun blazed over Camp Mujo, turning the air into a thick, suffocating blanket of heat. But inside the barracks, Natty felt a different kind of fire. She stood before the mirror, her fingers tracing the silver dog tags that lay cold against her flushed, golden skin. The reflection staring back was not the terrified girl from the morning. Her eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with a predatory hunger. Her lips curled into a smirk that promised sin.

"Two down," she whispered, her voice a silken purr. "Four to go."

The fear had evaporated, incinerated by the realization that if she was to be meat, she would be the most exquisite cut they ever tasted. She would not lie there like a corpse; she would be the conductor of this symphony of filth. She would be the pro Thai meat they fantasized about, a succubus in army green who drained them dry until they were the ones begging.

She left the barracks, the heat of the day hitting her like a physical wall. Her first target was predictable. Sergeant Kim Ji-hoon.

The supply shed was a cavern of shadows, smelling of stale canvas, gun oil, and dust. Kim stood by a stack of crates, his posture rigid, checking inventory with the intensity of a man trying to ignore the world. He didn't turn when the door creaked open.

"Sergeant," she called out, her voice soft, melting in the humid air.

He stiffened. "Natty. You should be resting."

"I rested," she lied, stepping into the pool of light beside him. "But I realized I haven't fulfilled my duty to you yet. A good soldier serves her superiors, doesn't she, Sir?"

Kim turned, his eyes cold and assessing. He was a man of discipline, of order. He didn't want a mess. But Natty could see the pulse jumping in his neck. She walked closer, invading his space, until she could smell the soap on his skin.

"I want to serve you, Sir," she whispered, dropping to her knees on the concrete floor without waiting for an order. She looked up at him, her hands resting lightly on his thighs, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Use me. Please. I need to be useful."

Something in the Sergeant’s stoic mask cracked. He looked down at her, at the way her shorts rode up her thighs, at the full, parted lips. It was an offer too tempting for a man who had been in the field too long.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice low and rough.

Natty obeyed instantly, tilting her head back, exposing the long, graceful line of her throat. Kim didn't hesitate. He unzipped his fly and pulled himself out, already hard and straining. He fisted his hand in her hair, not gently, and thrust into her mouth.

Natty took him. She suppressed her gag reflex, breathing through her nose, relaxing her jaw to accommodate his length. He set a brutal rhythm, fucking her face with the same efficiency he applied to drills. It was devoid of romance, purely mechanical, but Natty moaned around him, the vibrations traveling down his shaft.

"Take it," he grunted, his hips snapping forward, the sound of his pants slapping against her face echoing in the quiet shed. "All of it."

She hollowed her cheeks, suctioning him hard, her tongue dancing along the sensitive vein on the underside. She was a vessel, a wet, warm hole for his pleasure, and the sheer depravity of it made her slick with desire. She looked up at him, tears pricking her eyes from the intrusion, watching his face contort with pleasure. She controlled him, even as he choked her.

"You're a natural," he growled, pulling out abruptly, strings of saliva connecting them.

"Only for you, Sir," she rasped, her Thai accent thickening the words into a sweet, filthy melody. "My pussy is yours to use."

He didn't wait. He yanked her up, bent her over a wooden crate, and tore her shorts down her legs. He entered her from behind in one swift, punishing stroke. Natty cried out, her fingers scrabbling against the rough wood of the crate.

"Yes, Sir! Harder!" she screamed, meeting his thrusts, her ass rippling against his pelvis. "Use your little Thai slut!"

He fucked her with a silent intensity, the only sounds the wet slap of skin on skin and the creaking of the crate. When he came, he buried himself deep, gripping her hips so hard she knew she’d have bruises. He filled her up, a low groan escaping his lips.

As he pulled away, zipping up with trembling hands, Natty stayed bent over the crate for a moment, catching her breath. She stood up slowly, pulling her shorts back into place, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips.

"Thank you, Sergeant," she said sweetly, walking past him toward the door. She felt his gaze burning into her back, heavy and confused. He had used her, but she had claimed his focus.

An hour later, the air was thick with steam in the shower block. Corporal Lee Min-seok was leaning against the tiled wall, waiting for his turn under the spray. He was the charming one, the playful one. Natty intended to break that composure.

"Corporal," she purred, stepping into the mist.

He grinned, pushing off the wall. "Natty-ssi. I heard you've been busy. You're quite the motivation for the squad."

"I'm just doing my patriotic duty," she teased, closing the distance between them. "But I heard you like to play games, Oppa. Are you good at them?"

"I'm the best," he challenged, his eyes flicking down to her body, clad only in a damp towel she had grabbed on the way in.

"Good." She dropped the towel.

Lee’s eyes widened, raking over her golden-tan skin, glistening with moisture. Natty moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, stepping into him. She pushed him back until he sat on the wooden bench in the center of the room. She straddled his lap, facing him, but didn't let him enter her yet.

She began to move. It was a slow, agonizing grind, her hips rolling in deep, languid circles. She rubbed her slick folds against his hardened cock through his uniform pants, teasing him with the heat of her cunt but denying him the friction he craved.

"You're a tease," he hissed, his hands gripping her waist, trying to pull her down.

"Ah, ah, ah," she scolded, tapping his nose with a wet finger. "Patience. A good dancer knows you have to warm up the music."

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his face, then pulled away just as he tried to capture a nipple in his mouth. She giggled, a breathy, naughty sound. She flexed her hips, bouncing lightly, just enough to drive him mad.

"Please, Natty," he groaned, his playful facade slipping. "Stop teasing. I need to be inside you."

"You want it?" she whispered in his ear, her tongue tracing the shell. "Then beg for it, Corporal."

"I'm begging," he gasped, his hips jerking up involuntarily. "Fuck me. Ride me. Please."

"Good boy."

She stood up just long enough to unbutton his pants and free his straining erection. Then she sank down onto him, impaling herself in one smooth motion. She threw her head back, a moan tearing from her throat. He filled her perfectly.

She rode him with a rhythmic, hypnotic precision. She used her core muscles to clench around him, milking him with every rise and fall. She looked him in the eye, her gaze sultry and mocking.

"Is this what you wanted?" she gasped, her voice laced with laughter. "Is this how you imagined the idol Natty would feel?"

"You're tight… you're amazing," he babbled, his head thrown back against the wall.

She spun around, turning into reverse cowgirl, bracing her hands on his knees. She slammed her ass down onto him, the wet, slapping sound echoing off the tiles. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her hair plastered to her neck with sweat.

"Come on, Oppa," she taunted. "Fuck me back. Don't let the idol do all the work."

He gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and started to thrust upward, meeting her movements. It was a wild, sweaty dance, a battle for control. When he came, he let out a loud cry, his body arching off the bench. Natty milked him for every drop, her own orgasm fluttering around him, a sweet, teasing release.

She climbed off him, leaving him panting and wrecked on the bench. "Clean up, Oppa," she said, blowing him a kiss. "You're a mess."

By late afternoon, the sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the training field. Private Choi Hyun-woo was in the gym, attacking a punching bag with the ferocity of a man trying to kill something. He was the loudmouth, the arrogant one who loved to humiliate. Natty intended to feed that fire until it burned him.

"Choi," she called out, leaning against the doorframe.

He stopped, breathing hard, and turned to face her. He wiped sweat from his eyes with his forearm, glaring at her. "What do you want?"

"I heard you like to talk," she said, walking into the room, the scent of rubber and sweat filling her nose. "I heard you like to call us names. Foreign sluts. Cumdumps."

He smirked, leaning against the bag. "Yeah. So? It's the truth."

"Prove it," she challenged, stepping right into his personal space. She grabbed his tank top and pulled him down to her level. "Do your worst. Call me everything you want. But I bet you're all talk. I bet you can't handle a real slut."

Choi’s eyes flashed. He grabbed her by the throat, not squeezing, just claiming her. He shoved her back against the padded wall of the gym. "You think you can handle me? You think you're tough?"

"I don't think," she whispered, her hand sliding down to cup his cock through his shorts. "I know."

He snarled, yanking her shorts down and lifting her leg up. He entered her roughly, no prep, no gentleness. Natty cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"Is that the best you can do?" she gasped, goading him. "Call me a whore, Choi. Tell me what I am."

"You're a dirty little Thai whore," he spat, thrusting into her with punishing force. "You're just a hole for us to use. A cheap toy."

"Yes!" she screamed, her head hitting the padded wall with every thrust. "I'm a cheap toy! Use me! Fill me up!"

He slapped her across the face, a sharp stinging blow that made her see stars. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into it, her body convulsing around his cock. "Hit me again! Make me feel it!"

The sex was violent and messy. He choked her lightly, cutting off her air, making her lightheaded. She trash-talked him right back, calling him pathetic, begging him to go deeper, mixing Thai curses with Korean filth. It was a clash of egos, a battle fought with sweat and spit and cum.

When he finally emptied himself inside her, he collapsed against her, his chest heaving. Natty held him tight, her legs wrapped around his waist, a triumphant smirk on her face despite the red mark on her cheek.

"Who's the toy now, Oppa?" she whispered.

He pulled away, looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. He had tried to humiliate her, but she had taken his shame and worn it like a crown.

There was only one left. The mountain.

Private Jang Soo-bin was outside by the truck, washing the hood with a hose. The water ran over his massive arms, glistening in the fading light. He was a brute, a silent giant. Natty walked up to him, the sun painting her skin in gold.

"Jang," she said.

He turned, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance—flushed, sweaty, smelling of sex and musk.

"I need you," she said, her voice dropping to a growl. "I need someone who won't break."

Jang looked around nervously. "Captain will be back."

"Fuck the Captain," she repeated, her mantra of the day. She walked up to him and grabbed his belt, pulling him toward her. "Right here. Right now."

She didn't wait for permission. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and kissed him hard, biting his lip. Jang growled, a sound like a bear waking up, and caught her. He carried her to the hood of the truck and laid her back on the warm metal.

He was enormous. When he freed himself, Natty’s eyes widened. He was thick, veiny, a weapon of mass destruction. She felt a thrill of genuine fear mixed with anticipation.

"Manhandle me," she commanded. "Don't be gentle."

Jang didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed her ankles and spread her wide, folding her in half. He slammed into her, and Natty screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed through the camp. He stretched her to the limit, hitting places she didn't know existed.

She became a wild thing beneath him. She clawed at his back, she bit his shoulder, she urged him on with inarticulate cries. He moved her like she weighed nothing, flipping her onto her stomach, lifting her hips to drive deeper. Natty's body bent into impossible positions, her dancer's flexibility tested to the absolute limit. She was impaled, filled, possessed.

"More!" she shrieked, sweat dripping down her face. "Break me, Jang!"

He roared, a sound that shook the ground, and slammed into her one last time. She felt him explode inside her, a hot flood that triggered her own violent orgasm. Her vision whited out, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her, obliterating everything else.

* * *

Dinner in the mess hall was a study in conquest.

Natty walked in, feeling like a queen returning from war. Her body was sore, aching in places she didn't know she had, but she felt alive. Electric. She took her seat at the long table, and the conversation died instantly.

The squad stared at her. They didn't look at her with the casual lust of the day before. They looked at her with reverence. With addiction. They looked at her like she was a goddess who had descended to earth and graced them with her presence.

Private Park dropped his spoon. "You're… a goddess," he whispered, his voice trembling.

"Incredible," Corporal Lee muttered, unable to take his eyes off her. "She's absolutely incredible."

Even Sergeant Kim, the stoic, couldn't meet her gaze. He just stared at his plate, his face flushed a deep red.

Private Choi, the loudmouth, was strangely silent, watching her with a mix of fear and respect. And Jang, the brute, looked at her with a possessiveness that was almost terrifying.

Natty picked up her fork, a smirk playing on her lips. She had tamed them. She had turned the hunters into the hunted.

At the head of the table, Captain Kang Dae-hyun watched the scene unfold. He saw the change in his men. He saw the worship. He saw the defeat.

He stood up, the scraping of his chair silencing the room. He walked around the table, stopping behind Natty’s chair. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin.

"Well," Kang said, his voice booming with a confidence that sounded slightly hollow. "It seems the squad is quite taken with our special recruit."

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "I suppose it's my turn to see if the rumors are true. Tonight, Natty. I want to see if this 'new you' is worth all the fuss."

Natty looked up at him, her eyes dark and unreadable. She smiled, a smile that was all teeth and no warmth.

"I look forward to it, Captain," she whispered, her voice dripping with honeyed poison. "I'm going to rock your world."

Chapter 7

The door to the Captain’s quarters clicked shut, sealing them in. The room smelled of stale air and old authority, but Natty walked in as if she owned the floor. She didn't fidget. She didn't look at the floor. She swayed her hips, the golden skin of her legs catching the warm light, her dog tags jingling a soft, seductive rhythm against her chest.

Captain Kang Dae-hyun sat at his desk, a bottle of soju half-empty in front of him. He didn't turn immediately. He took a slow sip, his eyes tracking her in the reflection of the dark window.

"So," he said, his voice low and laced with a dangerous curiosity. "The squad is… buzzing."

Natty stopped in the center of the room, striking a pose that accentuated the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. "Are they, Captain?"

He turned his chair around, leaning back to study her. "They say you were busy today. Very busy. They say you fucked the entire squad while I was stuck in meetings." He stood up, walking toward her, his boots heavy on the floor. "They say you weren't the scared little girl I had in this bed last night. They say you were an animal."

Natty smiled, a slow, curving of her lips that promised everything and nothing. She stepped closer, invading his space, placing a hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating, steady and slow.

"They are right, Captain," she purred, her Thai accent thickening the words into honey. "I was busy. But you know why? Because of you."

Kang raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Last night," she whispered, her hand trailing down his uniform, tracing the muscles of his abdomen. "You broke me. You took away the nervousness. You showed me what I am." She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shimmering with feigned adoration. "You unlocked the real Natty. The men… they were just lucky enough to see the pieces you left behind."

Kang scoffed, but she saw the preening in his posture. He liked this. He needed this.

"Come on," he sneered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It’s true," she insisted, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Sergeant Kim? He was rough, yes. Efficient. But he was cold. Just a machine using a hole. It felt like nothing."

She stepped closer, pressing her body against his. "Corporal Lee? He wanted to play games. He wanted to tease. But he didn't have the power to take what he wanted. He was a boy playing at being a man."

She felt Kang’s breath hitch.

"And Private Choi?" She laughed, a dismissive, musical sound. "He likes to talk. He likes to slap and pretend he's strong. But when I squeezed him… he crumbled. He was weak, Captain. So weak."

She looked up at him, her gaze locking onto his, fierce and intense. "And Jang… big, stupid Jang. He has size, yes. But he has no skill. No rhythm. He just pushed and grunted like an animal in a barn."

She ran her hand down to his belt, her fingers dancing over the buckle. "They were all just… practice. Warm-ups. Shadows of the man who truly owns me."

Kang’s ego was swelling, she could see it in his eyes, in the way his chest puffed out. He was buying it, swallowing the lie whole because it tasted delicious.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his hand coming up to grip her chin, tilting her face up. "And what do you want from me now, little slut?"

"I have a gift for you, Captain," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "Something I didn't give them. Something I was saving."

She pulled back and pushed him gently toward the bed. "Sit."

He sat. Natty began to move.

She started with a slow, grinding rhythm, her hips swaying like she was on stage, but the music was the heavy beating of his heart. She straddled his lap, not sitting down, but hovering, teasing him with the heat radiating from her core. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her perky tits against his chest, feeling the rough fabric of his uniform against her sensitive nipples.

"Only you," she breathed in his ear, grinding her hips down against the hardness growing in his lap. "Only you are big enough. Only you are strong enough."

She slid down his body, dragging her breasts over his chest and stomach until she was on her knees between his legs. She unbuckled his belt with agonizing slowness, her eyes never leaving his. She freed his cock, thick and angry, already weeping with need.

"Look at this," she cooed, wrapping her hand around the base. "So much bigger than the others. So much prettier."

She leaned forward and took him into her mouth. It wasn't the rushed, efficient blowjob from the shed. This was worship. She used her tongue like an artist, tracing the veins, swirling around the head, taking him deep into her throat and humming so that the vibrations drove him crazy.

"Fuck," Kang hissed, his head falling back, his hand tangling in her hair.

She worked him for a long time, bringing him to the edge and then backing off, keeping him in a state of agonizing pleasure. Drool coated her chin and his shaft, making the movement sloppy and wet. The sounds were obscene—*gluck, slurp, pop*—echoing in the quiet room.

She pulled away, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip. She reached up and pulled her dog tags over her head, then leaned forward, trapping his cock between the soft, mounds of her breasts.

"I want you to feel how soft I am," she whispered, pressing her tits together, engulfing him.

She moved her chest up and down, her golden skin sliding against him. The cold metal of the chain brushed against his shaft, a contrasting sensation to the heat of her flesh. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with lust, her mouth open in a silent moan.

"You like that, Captain? You like fucking my tits?"

"Yes," he groaned, his hips bucking upward. "Just like that."

She smiled, a wicked, secret smile. She had him. He was putty in her hands.

She pulled away and stood up, stripping off her clothes slowly, revealing her body inch by inch. She turned around, bending over the bed, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"I told you I had a gift," she said, reaching back to spread her ass cheeks, revealing the tight, puckered star of her asshole. "They didn't get this, Captain. They only got my cunt. This… this belongs to you."

Kang stared, his eyes wide. "You want me to take your ass?"

"I need you to take it," she moaned, wiggling her hips enticingly. "I need to feel you stretching me there. I need to be full of you. Please, Captain. Ruin my ass."

She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself on her hands and knees. Kang moved behind her, his hands gripping her hips possessively. He spat on her asshole, rubbing the slick moisture around with his thumb.

"Relax," he commanded, pressing the head of his cock against the tight ring of muscle.

Natty took a deep breath, forcing her body to yield. He pushed forward, the intrusion burning and intense. She cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, as the head popped inside.

"Yes!" she gasped. "More! Give me all of it!"

He didn't stop. He slid in deeper, inch by inch, stretching her open until he was buried to the hilt. Natty felt full, utterly possessed. It was a dirty, primal feeling, and she loved it.

Kang started to move, his thrusts slow and deep. He groaned at the tightness, the heat. "You're so tight," he grunted. "Like a vice."

"It’s all for you," she whimpered, pushing back against him. "Fuck me, Captain. Use my ass."

He picked up the pace, the sound of his hips slapping against her ass filling the room. Natty moaned, her head hanging down, her hair creating a curtain around her face. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a sharp, stinging burn that only added to the intensity.

"Turn over," he commanded suddenly. "I want to see your face."

Natty flipped onto her back, lifting her legs high, spreading them wide. Kang re-entered her, the angle allowing him to go even deeper. He hooked his arms under her knees, folding her in half, pounding into her ass with ruthless abandon.

"Who owns you?" he growled, his face flushed, sweat dripping onto her chest.

"You do, Captain! You own me!" she screamed, her fingernails digging into his biceps. "Only you!"

She watched his face, watched the ecstasy contort his features. She was giving him the performance of a lifetime, and he was eating it up. She was the idol, the star, and he was just another fan in the front row.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned.

"Cum inside me," she begged, her voice cracking. "Fill my ass with your cum. Please, Captain! I need it!"

With a final, guttural roar, Kang slammed into her and held himself there. Natty felt him pulse, hot and thick, filling her ass with his seed. The sensation triggered a rush of pleasure through her own body, a warm, tingling glow that made her toes curl.

He collapsed on top of her, his heavy weight pinning her to the mattress. He was breathing hard, his heart hammering against her chest. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

Natty lay still, feeling the sticky wetness between her cheeks, the soreness in her body. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his sweat-slicked back, playing the role of the devoted, satisfied lover.

"You were amazing," he mumbled into her neck, his voice sounding wrecked. "The best."

"I'm glad you liked it, Captain," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

She stared up at the ceiling, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. He thought he had conquered her. He thought he had broken her and remade her in his image. He thought she was his little Thai slut, bowing down to his power.

But as she felt his breathing even out into the rhythm of sleep, Natty knew the truth. She had wrapped him around her finger. She had taken his arrogance, his pride, and used it to make him her slave. He was addicted to her, and she was the dealer.

"Sweet dreams, Captain," she whispered into the dark. "You're going to need them."

Chapter 8

The boundaries of time dissolved, replaced by the rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the guttural symphony of masculine groans. The week ceased to be a series of days and became a blurred, feverish tapestry of sweat, semen, and golden skin. The barracks, once a sterile box of military order, transformed into a temple of debauchery, reeking of musk and lust.

Monday bled into Tuesday in a haze of endless orgasms. There was no downtime. Natty became the center of their gravity, a black hole that sucked in every ounce of their energy. She woke Private Park with her mouth on Tuesday morning, swallowing his morning wood down to the base before his eyes even opened. By breakfast, she had already taken two loads—one deep in her cunt, another painted across her tongue.

The days were a relentless gauntlet of pleasure. During a break in PT drills on Wednesday, she dragged Corporal Lee and Private Choi into the shade of the equipment shed. She didn't even take her shorts off; she just pulled the crotch aside and let them take turns fucking her against the hot metal siding, their dog tags clinking together as they sandwiched her between their sweat-slicked bodies. She made them beg for it, made them thank her for the privilege of using her holes, while the rest of the squad ran laps in the distance, unaware of the filth happening just yards away.

Nights were an endurance test. Thursday was a marathon. She started with Sergeant Kim in the showers, letting the hot water beat down on them as he drilled her against the tiles, rough and unforgiving. She moved to the bunks next, crawling under the thin wool blankets with Private Jang, her legs wrapping around his massive waist, milking him in the dark while his bunkmate slept—or pretended to—just inches away. She ended the night in the Captain’s chair, riding Kang’s face until her thighs quivered and her juices coated his mustache, marking him as hers.

The squad was dehydrated, sleep-deprived, and utterly drained. Their eyes were rimmed with red, their movements sluggish, but the moment they saw her, a spark of manic, desperate energy lit them up. They were addicted. They were junkies, and Natty was the drug. She walked through the camp with the swagger of a queen, her hips swaying, knowing that every man there was thinking about the wet heat between her legs, the way her throat felt around their cocks, the sheer, unadulterated filth she coaxed out of them.

By Friday evening, the tension in the mess hall was palpable, a thick electric current that hummed in the silence. They had tasted every part of her, sampled every hole, dominated and been dominated in turn. But they knew, as a primal unit, that it was the final night. The Last Supper of lust.

Natty stood up, the metal chair scraping loudly against the floor. The room went still. Six pairs of eyes locked onto her, hungry, terrified, worshipful.

"Tonight," she said, her voice a sultry purr that cut through the heavy air. "It's the last night of us together. Let's celebrate together. Our grand finale"

She didn't need to elaborate. The implication hung there, heavy and obscene. A collective shudder ran through the squad—a mix of exhaustion and pure, unfiltered anticipation. Captain Kang nodded slowly, his hand trembling as he reached for his water canteen.

* * *

The barracks was dark, illuminated only by the harsh yellow glow of the security lights outside, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. The air was already thick, smelling of stale sweat and the pheromones of six men ready to explode.

Natty stood in the center of the aisle, a vision of golden sin. She wore nothing but her dog tags, the metal resting cold against her flushed chest. She looked at them—her pack, her prey, her toys.

"Strip," she commanded. "Now. I want to see what I own."

The sound of zippers and belts hitting the floor was like a gunshot starting a race. Clothes were discarded with frantic urgency. Six cocks sprang free, hard and leaking, a forest of varying sizes, all throbbing with the singular need to be inside her.

They stood naked before her, vulnerable despite their strength. Natty walked the line, her fingers trailing over the heated skin of their chests, their stomachs, brushing lightly against the weeping heads of their cocks. She was inspecting her weaponry.

"Captain," she whispered, stopping in front of Kang. "On the bed."

Kang scrambled onto the thin mattress, the springs groaning under his weight. He lay back, his cock standing straight up, pulsing with his heartbeat.

Natty climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs. She didn't sink down on him immediately. Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her perky tits against his chest, her dog tags dangling in his face.

"You've been a good boy this week, Sir," she cooed, her Thai accent thickening the words into honey. "But tonight isn't about orders. It's about worship."

She reached behind her, grasping his cock and guiding it to her entrance. She sank down slowly, agonizingly, letting him feel every inch of her tight, wet heat. They both groaned in unison, a guttural sound of relief.

"Who else?" she gasped, looking over her shoulder.

"Sergeant. My ass."

Sergeant Kim moved instantly, positioning himself behind her on the narrow bunk. There was barely enough room, but that was the point. The claustrophobia only heightened the intensity. He spat on her tight asshole, working the saliva in with his thumb, stretching her, preparing her.

"Give it to me," Natty demanded, rocking her hips on the Captain’s lap.

Kim pushed forward, the head of his cock popping past the tight ring of muscle. Natty cried out, her back arching, her head thrown back. The sensation of being doubly penetrated—filled in both holes—was a shock to the system every time, a mix of burning stretch and overwhelming fullness.

"Yes!" she hissed. "Move!"

They found a rhythm, a messy, grinding syncopation. Kang thrust up into her cunt while Kim slammed into her ass. The bunk bed screamed in protest, the metal frame rattling against the wall.

"Choi. Park. My mouth."

The two privates climbed onto the bed, kneeling on either side of her head. Natty grabbed their cocks, pulling them to her mouth. She alternated between them, sucking one deep while jerking the other, her tongue swirling, her saliva dripping down their shafts. She was airtight, stuffed in every available hole, a vessel for their collective lust.

The room was a cacophony of sounds—the wet slap of flesh, the creak of the springs, the grunts and moans of men losing their minds, the gagging sounds of Natty’s throat being used.

"Look at you," she gasped, pulling her mouth off Choi’s cock for a second. "Look at how hungry you are. You animals."

She was the eye of the storm, the calm center of the chaos. While they were sweating, grunting, their muscles straining with effort, she focused on the sensations. The friction of the Captain’s cock against her G-spot, the thickness of the Sergeant stretching her ass, the weight of the cocks in her hands. She was a conductor, directing this orchestra of filth with her body.

She came first, a sudden, violent convulsion that ripped through her. Her walls clenched down on both men, milking them, her screams muffled by Private Park’s cock burying itself in her throat.

"Switch!" she cried out, shoving them away.

She was sweating profusely now, her golden skin glistening in the half-light. She was insatiable. She moved to the floor, the cold concrete shocking her heated skin.

"Jang. Lie down."

The giant obeyed, his massive cock lying flat against his stomach like a heavy pipe. Natty straddled him, facing away, reverse cowgirl. She lined him up with her asshole and sank down, taking him to the hilt. She leaned back, bracing her hands on his chest, and spread her legs wide.

"Park. Inside me. Now."

Private Park didn't hesitate. He crawled between her spread legs and drove his cock into her pussy.

The sensation was indescribable. Two cocks in her lower body, rubbing against each other through the thin membrane of her flesh. Natty threw her head back and howled, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. She was being stretched to her absolute limit, her body used as a playground for their depravity.

"Fuck me!" she screamed, her accent disappearing in her desperation. "Wreck me! Ruin my holes!"

They thrust up in tandem, a relentless pounding. The Corporal and Choi moved to the sides, grabbing her feet, lifting them up, spreading her even wider. They stroked their cocks over her, using her legs as leverage, their pre-cum dripping onto her stomach and tits.

"Look at that pussy," Choi groaned, watching Park’s cock disappear into her stretched cunt. "It's eating him alive."

"Choke me," Natty demanded, looking at Choi with wild eyes. "Someone choke me."

Corporal Lee’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her air. The lightheadedness mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, sending her into a trance-like state. She was floating, disconnected from everything except the sensation of being used.

They moved like a machine, switching positions fluidly. She was on her knees, taking a cock from behind while sucking two others. She was on her back, legs pinned behind her ears, taking a double-vaginal pounding that made her eyes roll back. She was bent over the edge of the bunk, getting her ass eaten while someone came on her face.

Hours passed. The squad was running on fumes, but their lust was a potent fuel. They came, and they stayed hard, unable to resist the sight of her—their golden goddess, covered in sweat and cum, begging for more.

Finally, the end approached. They were all gathered around her, standing over her as she lay on the floor, her body exhausted, trembling, but her eyes still burning with that dark, liberated fire.

"Cum on me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Paint me. Mark your territory."

It was a simultaneous eruption. The Captain groaned, aiming his cock at her tits. The Sergeant coated her stomach. The Privates sprayed her face, her hair, her open mouth. Rope after rope of hot, thick semen covered her, dripping down her skin, pooling in the hollow of her throat, mixing with the sweat that glistened on her body.

Natty lay there, breathing hard, her body a canvas of their devotion. She ran her fingers through the mess on her stomach, brought them to her mouth, and licked them clean.

"Good boys," she murmured, a satisfied, triumphant smile on her face. "My good, broken boys."

* * *

The morning light was cruel, a harsh intrusion into the sanctum of sin. It filtered through the blinds, illuminating the wreckage of the barracks—the discarded uniforms, the tangled sheets, the smell of dried sex hanging heavy in the air.

Natty woke up slowly, her body aching in ways she didn't know were possible. She was sticky, covered in dried fluids, her muscles screaming. But as she sat up, the mask slid back into place. The vixen, the succubus, the "pro Thai meat"—she packed those personas away in a box deep inside her mind and locked it shut.

She stood up and walked to the showers. She scrubbed herself until her skin was raw, until the water ran cold. She washed away the sweat, the cum, the smell of them. She washed away the week.

When she emerged, she was Natty again. The idol. The dancer. The perfectionist. She dressed in her uniform, pulling the fabric tight, checking her reflection in the mirror. Not a hair out of place. Not a hint of the debauchery that had consumed her for seven days.

She walked out to the courtyard. The squad was there, lined up in formation. They looked terrible. Dark circles under their eyes, uniforms disheveled, but there was a strange light in their eyes—a mix of adoration and heartbreak.

Captain Kang stepped forward as the transport van pulled up. He looked at her, and for a second, the arrogant commander was gone, replaced by a man who had experienced something he couldn't comprehend.

"Recruit Natty," he said, his voice hoarse. "We… we won't forget this. I won't forget this."

He wanted to say more. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted to confess his addiction. But he couldn't. He was the Captain.

She gave him the smile. The one she practiced for the cameras. Sweet, polite, distant. "Thank you for your service, Captain. And for… the hospitality."

She moved down the line. Private Park looked like he was going to cry. Corporal Lee gave her a shaky salute. Private Choi couldn't meet her eyes, his face flushing red as he remembered the things he’d done to her.

"I’ll see you around," she lied smoothly, giving them a little wave. "Look me up when you get leave."

They cheered weakly, a pathetic, desperate sound. They watched her like she was a ghost ascending to heaven.

Natty climbed into the back of the van. The engine roared to life, drowning out the sound of their goodbye.

As the van pulled away, turning onto the main road and leaving the camp gates behind, Natty didn't look back. She stared straight ahead, out the front windshield, watching the trees rush by.

Her heart was beating a steady, cold rhythm. The heat, the lust, the power—it was all gone, extinguished like a cigarette in the snow. The camp, the barracks, the men—they were becoming a memory, fading with every mile.

She touched her dog tags through the fabric of her shirt. Then, with a decisive motion, she unclasped them and shoved them deep into her pocket. She would throw them in the first trash bin she saw.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the clean, fresh air blowing through the vents. She was going home. She was going back to the lights, the music, the screaming fans. She was going back to being a star.

And as for the camp? As for the week?

*It never happened,* she told herself, the thought hard and final. *I was never here.*

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Where reality marges with wildest imaginations. All about K-Pop, BLACKPINK and Jisoo💜

[unholybacon355]

Flash 8: Vitamine D

Julie Han x M!Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: Is this messy? Yes. Is this unedited? Also yes. But I really wanted to do something for Julie's birthday so I think technically I'm still on time.

If you’d been in a cartoon, the moment you met Julie would have been when your eyes popped out and your jaw dropped to the floor—all because you’d just seen the most stunning woman you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d been on that cruise for a week, and you’d already started flirting with Julie a few days earlier. The first time you actually saw her was at the deck bar; it was your second night there, and you couldn’t help but invite her for a drink. She accepted with a flirtatious giggle, but little else happened that time.

So, little by little, you upped the ante until you invited her to dinner and then to dance at one of the many clubs on the ship. Everything was going spectacularly, perfectly in your opinion, and all that was left was to take it one step further.

By pure luck and thanks to the course they were sailing, the sun shone on your balcony most of the day. You took advantage of that to invite Julie to sunbathe and relax while they ordered some drinks and room service. Luckily for you, she accepted.

On the day the long-awaited date finally happened, Julie walked into your room wrapped in a big coat that made her look out of place. You were sailing on the Caribbean, so the norm was to wear light clothing, not a coat that covered you almost completely. When she took off the coat, you understood why she’d chosen it.

For that day, Julie had chosen the tiniest bikini she owned, a clear sign that she wanted something more with you. After all the dancing, dinners, and almost innocent flirting, it had been she who had taken the final big step. True, you invited her to your room. But it was she who arrived dressed like that.

The pieces covered little to nothing of her body. The top barely covered her nipples, squeezing Julie’s perfect, perky breasts. You were sure the bottom was so small that if she went swimming in that, it would surely slip into her pussy or at least expose a labia. In any case, the bikini was already wedged deep into her ass, as you could see when she turned around so you could see her full outfit.

“What do you think?” Julie asked, giving you a wide smile, with that sparkle in her eyes that drew you in more and more. She turned around again to make sure you didn’t miss a single detail of her outfit. It was impossible to do so when you had a goddess standing right in front of you.

With a confident stride, she walked toward the balcony. You watched, mouth agape, as her buttocks bounced with every step she took, setting a hypnotic rhythm for you.

You could say that from there on, things had gone well for you—or much more than well. The conversation had flowed thanks to the drinks they’d ordered and finally being able to be completely alone. The hours passed, and before you knew it, you were kissing. Right now, things were going even better for you—better than you’d ever imagined.

Julie was on the same beach chair where she’d been sunbathing all this time, except her bikini lay discarded on the floor. She was on all fours while you held her by the hips and thrust into her with all your strength. That perfect ass that had hypnotized you at first was now trembling with every new impact of your hips.

You weren't sure if the obscene noises they were making could be heard from the next room, but if so, one of your neighbors was surely getting a hard-on from Julie's delicious moans. She moaned shamelessly as your cock slid into her ass.

The same suntan lotion you’d rubbed onto her skin now served as lubricant for fucking her ass. Maybe you’d applied too much, which made her skin slippery. But it didn’t matter because, in fact, that made everything more pleasurable. You had to hold her tighter, thrust into her more fervently, fuck her with more passion.

“Oh yes, like that, just like that. Right there.” Julie managed to proclaim between moans when you shifted the angle slightly. She turned to look at you, and in her eyes you could see the flames of lust. You didn’t know if it was that, the tightness of her ass, or how much you’d enjoyed these days with her that made you feel as if you were falling in love.

Probably that wasn’t a good time to think about that. But what better time to think about love than while they were fucking like animals? There was probably no better occasion than that. Nothing could inspire more love than having a beautiful, fiery woman on all fours, taking your cock deep into her tight ass, while her moans formed a heavenly chorus.

“I’m gonna cum,” you declared, panting from the effort of keeping up the pace. “I can’t hold back any longer.”

“Mmmgghnn!! Cum in my ass, fill me with your cum.” It was a pleasant surprise to realize that not only were Julie’s actions obscene, but her words were too. That wasn’t the first dirty thing she’d said while they were fucking.

Since you had her permission—though you were actually sure you didn’t need it—you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure and surrendered to the climax. The orgasm hit you immediately, making your legs tremble as your cock exploded inside Julie.

As your semen filled her rectum to the brim, Julie came too. The juices from her pussy gushed out, splashing the chair they were fucking on, and her ass clenched tighter than ever. You kept unloading your balls inside her, clinging to her hips and growling like an animal. If anyone wasn’t complaining about all the noise they were making, it would be a miracle.

With your balls empty, you pulled your cock out of Julie’s ass, causing a bit of cum to leak out and making her moan again. To your pleasant surprise, once again, instead of lying down, Julie sat on the pool of vaginal juices she’d left behind, and before you could do anything, she took your cock into her mouth.

The sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips, even with her mouth full of your cock, made you think once again that the possibility of you falling in love was very real.

A/N: I really wrote this during dead times at work, so you cane expect nothing more from me until april 11.

[kangshxrtie]

PARTY NEXT DOOR 🪩 DANIELA AVANZINI

SOCIAL MEDIA AU AND WRITTEN

SYPNOSIS 🪩 daniela avanzini falls hard for a girl she dances with at a party. and if there’s one thing about daniela, it’s that once she wants something, she goes for it. now all she has to do is convince y/n she isn't some playgirl

PAIRING 🪩 DANIELA AVANZINI X FEM READER

STATUS 🪩 COMPLETED

🪩 PLAYLIST

TOP FLOOR SQUAD | ACTIVE CRASHOUTS

01 . the move?

02 . pregame

03 . white-out (written)

04 . put me on

05 . prove it

06 . gay

07 . can’t back down

08 . f**king freak

09 . hear me out

10 . euphoria (written)

11 . that's cook (written)

12 . mansion party (written)

13 . dream

14 . brokey

15 . blowing up

16 . something

17 . dani pulled

18 . a lil game

19 . love lore update

20 . the date (written)

21 . thrice????

22 . i got to bag it up

23 . i’m speaking

24 . dutch run

25 . study sesh

26 . last day

27 . 7-eleven

28 . when i see u

29 . rock climbing (written)

30 . 4lifers

31 . smut park (written)

32 . natty (written)

33 . tmb

34 . little trip (written)

35 . friendship garden

36 . why tf

37 . for attention

38 . kiss me thru the phone

39 . drive-by

40 . the enemy

41 . u up? (written)

42 . pool party (written)

43 . where dani go?

44 . RICKY

45 . just us (written)

46 . pulling up

47 . it's just us (written)

48 . come home

49 . ice cream

50 . eepover

51 . too much spinny (written)

52 . child before dating

53 . wild west party (written)

54 . pizza

55 . my girl..friend (written)

56 . mommy sophia

57 . slipping thru my fingers

58 . feels right (written)

59 . mami

60 . parking lot (written)

61 . missed uuuu

62 . lara's birthday (written)

63 . hangover

64 . white lies party (written)

65 . mommy? mamacita

66 . blocked

67 . mexican pizza (written)

68 . dream date

69 . drive-in (written)

70 . te amo (written)

[kpoplustzone]

Double Trouble - Wonyoung x Natty

OC x Wonyoung x Natty [16k words]

Natty’s soft moans floated through the dimly lit office room, each one slipping out between quickened breaths as she bounced in Park’s lap. Her short black hair clung in loose strands to her flushed cheeks, the tips brushing her bare shoulders with every rise and fall. Park’s large, calloused hands had claimed her—thick fingers pressing deep into the warm, perfect weight of her breasts, thumbs stroking lazily over her hardened peaks as if he were savoring every inch. The Old man’s grip was firm but not unkind, palms kneading with a possessive rhythm that matched the wet slap of her hips meeting his.

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