Chapter 2: TripleS Kaede & Jiyeon x male reader
(part of The TripleS Bond series but not a direct sequel)
tags: cheating, cowgirl, pool sex, creampie
The sun blazed overhead, turning the TripleS house pool into a shimmering oasis of crystal-clear water and glistening reflections. The air carried the faint scent of chlorine mixed with sunscreen and the sweet aroma of tropical flowers blooming along the patio edges.
Kaede had pulled Y/N into this gathering with a bright smile, her green top clinging to her damp skin after an earlier dip, the fabric outlining the gentle curve of her breasts while her white shorts rode high on her thighs. Her hair, already soaked, framed her ethereal face like a halo of dark silk.
Seoyeon lounged on a nearby lounge chair, her white blouse tied just beneath her breasts to expose the toned lines of her abs. The short white skirt barely covered her hips, shifting with every subtle movement to reveal smooth skin. She looked effortlessly classy, her posture relaxed yet commanding as she sipped from a glass of iced tea.
Lynn, the one they called Baby Shark, bounced lightly on her feet in her navy blue blouse and light blue shorts. The outfit gave her an adorable, almost playful energy, her cheeks flushed from the heat as she chatted animatedly with Soomin. Soomin’s light blue dress flowed down to her ankles, the material light enough to hint at the shape beneath it, and she kept glancing toward the pool with eager anticipation, ready to dive in and start her usual playful rivalry with Yeonji.
Yeonji stood near the edge of the water, her short pink top cropped high to expose her toned midriff. The dark blue shorts hugged her hips, the fabric stretching slightly as she shifted her weight. Hours in the studio had sculpted her stomach into defined lines that caught the sunlight perfectly. Jiyeon leaned against the pool railing in her red dress dotted with white, the hem stopping just above her knees and offering teasing glimpses of her thighs whenever a breeze lifted the fabric.
Y/N stepped onto the patio in his blue t-shirt and shorts, immediately drawing the group’s attention. The girls exchanged quick glances and smirks.
"Look who’s overdressed," Chaeyeon called out first, her voice light and teasing as she gestured at his outfit. "It’s a pool party, not a business meeting, Y/N."
Dahyun nodded, leaning forward on her elbows. "Yeah, take that shirt off already. Let’s see if all those gym hours actually paid off."
The others joined in, voices overlapping in playful challenge. Seoyeon raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smile. "Go on, Y/N. Don’t keep us waiting."
Y/N hesitated only a moment before pulling the blue t-shirt over his head. The fabric slid up, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the sharp definition of his abs. Sunlight highlighted every ridge and valley of muscle, the result of countless hours lifting weights. A chorus of whistles and applause erupted around the pool. Lynn clapped her hands together, eyes wide. "Whoa, Kaede’s boyfriend is ripped!"
Yeonji whistled low, her gaze traveling over his torso. "Okay, I’m impressed. Studio hours versus gym hours—looks like the gym wins today."
Jiyeon tilted her head, the red dress shifting to show more thigh. "Not bad at all. Kaede’s been holding out on us."
Soomin giggled, the hem of her long dress brushing the ground as she stepped closer. "You look like you could carry all of us into the pool at once."
Seoyeon gave a slow nod of approval, her tied blouse moving with the motion to flash another glimpse of her own abs. "Solid. Very solid."
The attention lingered, warm and appreciative. Y/N felt the eyes on him—some curious, some openly admiring. Chaeyeon and Dahyun moved in closer, their flirtation turning more direct. Chaeyeon reached out first, her fingers brushing lightly along his forearm, tracing the line of muscle there.
"These arms feel even better than they look," she murmured, leaning in so her breath brushed his ear. "Bet they could pin a girl down real easy."
Dahyun followed right after, her hand resting on his other bicep, squeezing gently. "Mmm, and this chest… Kaede must have fun with you. Tell us, does she get to ride these abs every night?"
They pressed closer, bodies warm from the sun, voices dropping into low, naughty whispers that only Y/N could hear. Chaeyeon’s fingers slid higher, almost grazing his side. "I bet you could make a girl scream without even trying hard. Want to prove it?"
Dahyun’s lips hovered near his neck, her tone playful yet edged with heat. "We won’t tell Kaede… unless you want us to."
The teasing continued, light touches and suggestive comments circling Y/N like a warm current. Lynn watched with wide eyes, half-shocked, half-curious, while Yeonji smirked and Jiyeon’s dress shifted again with another teasing flash of thigh. Soomin fanned herself dramatically, the light blue fabric of her dress fluttering. Seoyeon simply observed with a small, knowing smile, her own posture relaxed but attentive.
Inside the house, Kaede moved through the kitchen, preparing drinks for the entire group. She sliced fresh fruit, poured colorful mixes into tall glasses, and added ice that clinked softly. The task took time—measuring, stirring, arranging everything on a tray so everyone could enjoy the sunny afternoon together. Her green top still clung to her damp skin, white shorts riding up slightly as she reached for glasses on higher shelves. She hummed to herself, unaware of the escalating flirtation happening just outside by the pool.
Back on the patio, Chaeyeon’s hand lingered on Y/N’s shoulder, her thumb stroking slow circles. "You’re even hotter up close. Those veins on your arms are doing things to me."
Dahyun leaned in again, her chest brushing his side as she whispered, "If Kaede doesn’t hurry back, we might have to steal you for a quick dip… just the three of us."
The girls’ laughter mixed with the sound of water lapping at the pool edge. The sun continued to beat down, highlighting every glistening drop of sweat on Y/N’s exposed skin and every subtle shift in the members’ outfits. The atmosphere grew thicker with playful tension, each teasing comment and light touch adding another layer to the sunny gathering.
Kaede’s footsteps finally approached from inside the house, tray balanced in her hands as she neared the sliding door.
The poolside atmosphere thickened as more of the TripleS members circled closer to Y/N, their attention sharpening after his shirt came off. Sunlight bounced off the water and caught every curve of skin, every flash of fabric.
Jiyeon stood out immediately. Across the pool she leaned against the railing in that red dress dotted with white, the hem riding high enough to tease. She caught his eye and winked slowly, deliberately. A moment later she lifted the front of the dress with two fingers, just long enough to reveal the tight black safety shorts molded to her ass. The material clung like a second skin, outlining every firm line. She let the dress fall again and smirked, knowing exactly what she had shown.
Y/N tried to shake the image and focused on Chaeyeon instead. She had already stretched out on a lounge chair, her swimsuit top barely containing her large breasts. "My shoulders are killing me," she said, voice low and inviting. "Think those gym hands can help?"
He knelt beside her and placed his palms on her upper back. The first slow press drew a soft sigh from her. He worked methodically, thumbs digging into tight knots along her spine, fingers spreading wide over the warm skin. Every time he reached her shoulder blades his hands slid outward, brushing the outer swell of her breasts. Chaeyeon’s breath hitched. A quiet moan slipped past her lips when his fingertips grazed the side of one heavy breast again. The sound was small, but it grew more frequent the longer he worked. Her body softened under him, hips shifting slightly against the chair. After twenty minutes her muscles felt loose and her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat.
Chaeyeon sat up slowly, turned, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Her large breasts pressed hard against his bare chest, the thin swimsuit material doing little to hide their softness. "If Kaede wasn’t here right now I’d jump you in front of everyone," she whispered against his ear. "Come find me this week when we can be alone. I need to feel you inside me."
Before he could answer, Dahyun sprang up from the next chair. "Next!" she called, already lying face-down and tugging her top lower. Seoyeon and Sohyun moved closer too, waiting their turn.
Dahyun’s back was smooth and warm. Y/N’s hands glided over her, pressing firmly into the muscles along her ribs. She let out little gasps whenever his thumbs circled a tight spot. Seoyeon went next, her white blouse already untied so his palms could work directly on her toned abs and lower back. She stayed quiet but her breathing grew heavier with each pass of his hands.
Sohyun climbed onto the lounge chair last. Her thick ass filled the short skirt she wore, the fabric stretched tight. Y/N straddled her hips to get better leverage. As he leaned forward to reach her shoulders, his cock—already half-hard from the constant closeness—pressed against the curve of her ass. Sohyun noticed immediately. She wiggled back deliberately, grinding her thick cheeks against the growing bulge. Turning her head, she gave him a wicked grin. "Feels like someone’s enjoying the view," she murmured.
Y/N kept his hands moving, trying to stay focused, but the sight of the girls in swimsuits and short skirts, the sounds they made, the way their bodies responded, kept him throbbing. By the time he finished with Sohyun his erection strained visibly against his shorts.
Kaede stepped out onto the patio carrying the tray of drinks, but instead of handing them out she set it down and took Y/N’s hand. "Inside. Now," she said, voice tight with need. She led him through the sliding door into the kitchen, the door clicking shut behind them.
The moment they were alone she pushed him onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "I’ve been thinking about this cock since I woke up this morning" she breathed, already unbuttoning her white shorts. She shoved them down along with her panties and stepped out of them. Her green top stayed on, clinging to her damp skin. She climbed onto his lap, reached between them, and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. "Can’t believe you spent all day taking care of my girls. I’m so fucking wet for you, boyfriend."
She lowered herself slowly. The head of his cock parted her folds and she sank down inch by inch, her pussy stretching around him. A long moan escaped her as she took the full length. Once she was seated she started to ride, rolling her hips in steady circles before lifting and dropping again. Her hands gripped his shoulders for balance while her mouth found his, kissing him hard and messy. Every downward thrust made wet sounds fill the kitchen.
Outside by the pool the other members heard the first loud moan. Lynn’s eyes went wide. Yeonji smirked and glanced toward the house. Jiyeon bit her lip, the red dress shifting as she pressed her thighs together. Seoyeon’s cheeks flushed. Sohyun grinned and whispered something to Dahyun that made her laugh breathlessly. The sounds of Kaede riding Y/N grew louder—skin slapping, her voice crying out his name, the chair creaking under them.
Inside, Kaede broke the kiss only to moan again. "Fuck, you feel so good. Deeper—yes, just like that." She bounced faster, her breasts jiggling under the green top. Y/N’s hands gripped her waist, guiding her down harder each time. Her pussy clenched around him with every thrust, slick and hot.
Kaede leaned in close, forehead against his. "They can all hear me," she panted. "Let them hear how good you fuck me." She slammed down again, taking every inch, her moans echoing through the open window. The girls outside shifted restlessly, the tension from earlier massages and teasing now amplified by the unmistakable sounds of their leader getting railed in the kitchen.
Kaede kept riding, pace quickening, her voice growing hoarse from the constant loud moans. Y/N’s cock throbbed inside her, the wet heat of her pussy pulling him closer to the edge with every roll of her hips. The kitchen filled with the scent of sex and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin while outside the poolside group listened, every girl affected in her own way by the raw sounds coming from inside the house.
The poolside tension only grew thicker as Kaede’s cries carried through the open windows. Every moan from inside the kitchen made the remaining girls shift restlessly on their lounge chairs. Seoyeon leaned forward, biting her lip. “God, she sounds like she’s getting destroyed in there.” Sohyun grinned and fanned herself. “That’s our leader. She’s not holding anything back.” Lynn’s cheeks flushed pink while Yooyeon pressed her thighs together, eyes flicking toward the house. Soomin kept glancing at the door, her light blue dress riding higher on her thighs. Jiyeon stayed quiet but her breathing had turned shallow, the red dress clinging to her skin as she watched the window like she could see through it.
Inside, Kaede rode Y/N harder, her hips snapping down with wet, filthy sounds. Her green top stuck to her body, nipples stiff against the damp fabric. She braced her hands on his shoulders and slammed herself onto his cock again and again. “Fuck—fuck, right there,” she gasped. Her pussy clenched tight around him, slick and hot, every thrust making her moan louder. The chair creaked under their combined weight.
Outside the girls started calling out encouragement. “Make him fill you up, unnie!” Sohyun shouted. “We can hear everything!” Yeonji added with a wicked laugh. Chaeyeon cupped her own breasts through her swimsuit, squeezing. “Don’t stop, Kaede! Ride that cock!”
Kaede threw her head back, voice cracking. “Yesss, I fucking love youuu!!” Her whole body shook as the orgasm ripped through her. Her pussy pulsed and fluttered around Y/N’s length, milking him. She kept bouncing through it, desperate, until she finally slowed, panting against his neck. “Please,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Fill me up. Cum inside me, boyfriend. I want it all.”
Y/N gripped her waist and thrust up hard, burying himself deep. Hot spurts flooded her, thick and heavy. Kaede moaned again at the feeling, grinding down to take every drop. They stayed locked together until his cock finally softened inside her. She kissed him slow and deep, then carefully lifted off. Cum dripped down her inner thighs as she stood. “I need to clean up,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Don’t keep the girls waiting too long.” She headed upstairs, leaving Y/N to catch his breath.
He cleaned himself in the downstairs bathroom, wiping away the evidence of their quick fuck. His cock still twitched with aftershocks, but he tucked it away and stepped back outside. The sun had started to dip lower, casting golden light across the pool. Yooyeon, Lynn, and Soomin were still waiting, all of them giving him knowing looks.
“Sounded like Kaede really enjoyed those hands,” Yooyeon teased as he approached. Lynn bounced on her feet, eyes sparkling. “We heard everything. Every single moan.” Soomin fanned her face with one hand. “My turn next. I want the full treatment.”
Y/N worked through the remaining massages one by one. Yooyeon lay face-down first, her toned body relaxing under his palms. He pressed deep into her shoulders and lower back, thumbs circling tight spots until she sighed and melted. Lynn went next, giggling at first then going quiet as his strong hands worked her thighs and hips. Soomin’s light blue dress was already hiked up when she climbed onto the lounge. He straddled her hips the same way he had with Sohyun earlier, fingers gliding over her smooth skin. Every girl teased him about the kitchen noises, making his face heat up. “You made her scream so loud,” Lynn whispered. “Bet you’re still hard under those shorts.”
By the time the last massage finished the sun was low and the other girls started heading inside to shower and change. Jiyeon stayed behind. She had been quiet for the last hour, but her eyes never left Y/N. The red dress clung to her curves, the hem barely covering the black safety shorts underneath. She waited until the sliding door closed behind the others, then walked straight to him.
Jiyeon grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Her lips were soft but demanding, tongue sliding against his. When she pulled back her eyes were dark with need. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me all day,” she said, voice low. “Am I not pretty enough for you, Y/N? Are my boobs not as big as Chaeyeon or Sohyun unnie’s? Or do you just not want to fuck me?”
Y/N panicked, hands coming up in a placating gesture. “No—no, Jiyeon, that’s not it at all. Your eyes are gorgeous, and your lips… they’re perfect. You’re stunning.”
She wasn’t listening. Her expression turned frustrated and she shoved him hard. Y/N stumbled backward and fell into the pool with a splash. Jiyeon didn’t hesitate—she jumped in after him, dress floating around her as she swam straight for him. He tried to back away but she caught him at the far end where the water was shallower. Her hands found his shoulders and she climbed onto his lap, straddling him right there against the pool wall.
Water lapped around their waists. Jiyeon kissed him again, harder this time, teeth grazing his lower lip. One of her hands slipped between them and found his cock through the wet shorts. She rubbed firmly, feeling it twitch and harden under her palm. “I need to feel you, Y/N,” she breathed against his mouth. “I can’t take the teasing anymore. Watching you with everyone else… hearing Kaede scream… I’m soaked.”
Her fingers worked faster, stroking him through the fabric until he was fully hard again. Y/N groaned, hands gripping her waist. The last of his resistance crumbled. “Fine, you needy slut,” he muttered. “But you better be quiet. If Kaede hears us I’m a dead man.”
He spun them around so Jiyeon’s back pressed against the pool wall. His hands moved quickly, shoving his shorts down and letting them float away. Then he reached under her red dress, fingers hooking into the black safety shorts and panties together. He yanked them down her legs and let them drift off in the water. Jiyeon’s pussy was bare and slick, the cool water doing nothing to hide how wet she already was.
Y/N lined himself up and pushed inside in one smooth thrust. Jiyeon’s head fell back against the tiles, a loud moan tearing from her throat. “Ahh—fuck, yes!” Her tight walls stretched around his cock, hot and pulsing. He started moving immediately, hips snapping forward, water splashing with every thrust. Jiyeon wrapped her arms around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t hold back. I’ve been waiting all day for this cock.” Her moans grew louder with every stroke—high, needy sounds that echoed across the empty pool area. “Oh god, Y/N—right there—yes, yes, yes!” Her pussy clenched around him, slick and greedy.
He kissed her to muffle some of the noise, but she kept breaking away to moan again. “So deep—fuck, you’re stretching me so good. I can feel every inch.” Her ballerina flexibility showed when he hooked one arm under her left thigh and lifted it high, resting her leg over his shoulder. The new angle let him drive even deeper. Jiyeon cried out, voice cracking. “Ahhh—yes! Just like that! Don’t stop!”
Water sloshed around them as he fucked her hard against the wall. Her red dress floated up, exposing her stomach and the place where his cock disappeared inside her. Jiyeon’s moans turned constant and desperate. “Y/N—oh fuck—I’m so close already. Your cock feels so good. Pound me harder—please!”
He obliged, thrusting deep and fast. Every time he bottomed out she let out another broken moan. “Yes—yes—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Her pussy fluttered and tightened, orgasm building fast. She clung to him, leg still hooked over his shoulder, body trembling. “I’m gonna cum—I’m gonna cum on your cock!”
Jiyeon’s whole body shook as she came, a long, loud moan echoing across the pool. Her walls pulsed and squeezed, milking him. Y/N kept thrusting through it, chasing his own release. She kept moaning even after the peak, voice hoarse. “Don’t stop—keep fucking me—fill me up too. I want your cum inside me.”
He drove into her a few more times before burying himself deep and cumming hard. Thick spurts pumped into her tight pussy while Jiyeon moaned through it, kissing him messily. They stayed locked together in the water, breathing hard, her leg still draped over his shoulder.
Jiyeon finally lowered her leg and rested her forehead against his. “That was worth every second of waiting,” she whispered, voice still shaky. “We should do this again. Soon.” She kissed him one more time, slow and lingering, before they both started looking for their floating clothes in the pool.
Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! 💖
The story is heating up, and I can't wait to share what happens next. If you are loving this journey and want to support my writing, please consider checking out my Ko-fi commissions in my bio! ☕✨
Want to help shape my future projects? Become a monthly subscriber today! You will get an exclusive invite to my private Discord server, where you can chat with awesome readers and vote on which celebs I write about next. See you in the next chapter!
I will hopefully start posting on AO3 tomorrow. I actually had my account suspended untill the 17th because some crybabies reported my Under1* content.
But yeah I'll be back on there tomorrow with a couple new smuts I have ready and have been waiting to post.
HIIII! Could you please do a oneshot for wonyoung where we noncon the attitude out of her? Maybe a public sex to humiliate her or filming us nonconing her and threatening to post it would make her a good girl to us OR can be both🙈
I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM!
Teaching Her A Lesson
TW: NON-CON | Don't Like It, Don't Read It.
Wonyoung × M!Reader
She thought she could walk all over me. That little brat, with her perfect skin and that smug, idol smile she'd flash at the cameras, then turn around and give me nothing but attitude in private. Late for schedules. Talking back during rehearsals. Rolling her eyes when I told her to fix her posture.
Today, she learns who really controls her career.
I called her into the studio after the others left. Told her we needed to "discuss her contract violations." She came in wearing that off-white sleeveless blouse with the little black polka dots, a short pleated skirt, white sneakers. Innocent. Untouchable.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Wonyoung?" I said, leaning against the mixing desk. The door was locked. Soundproof room. No cameras in here. "You think your fucking face means you can do whatever you want?"
She crossed her arms. "I'm the most popular member. The company needs me."
That was the wrong thing to say.
I crossed the room in three steps. Grabbed her jaw with one hand, squeezing her cheeks until her lips puckered. Her eyes went wide—finally, some fear. Good.
"You're nothing without me. I built you. I can destroy you."
Before she could retort, I shoved her backward. She stumbled, hit the edge of the desk. I was on her instantly, pressing my body against hers, one hand sliding up her thigh under that skirt. She gasped, tried to push me away.
"Let go of me!"
"Shut up."
My hand found the waistband of her white panties. I didn't bother with gentleness—I shoved my fingers past the fabric, straight into her cunt. She was dry. Tight. Unprepared. Her whole body tensed, a choked cry escaping her throat.
"Please—"
I pushed deeper. Two fingers, then three, stretching her open. She whimpered, clawing at my shoulders, but I just pressed harder, using my other hand to palm her small tits through the blouse. The fabric was thin enough that I could feel the outline of her bra, the hard nub of her nipple beneath.
"Look at you," I hissed into her ear. "So fucking tight. This is what happens when you act like a brat."
I twisted my fingers inside her, watched her face contort in pain. A tear slipped down her cheek. Beautiful.
I pulled my hand out, wet with her reluctant slick, and shoved my fingers into her mouth. "Taste yourself. You're gonna learn to love it."
She gagged, but I held her jaw shut, forcing her to suck her own fluids off my knuckles. When I finally let go, she was panting, her lipstick smeared, that perfect idol composure shattered.
"On your knees."
She shook her head, sobbing now. "I'm sorry, I'll be good—"
"Too late for that."
I grabbed a fistful of her hair—that silky, expensive hair the stylists spent hours on—and yanked her down. She hit her knees hard on the wooden floor. I unzipped my pants, pulled out my cock, already hard from the sight of her broken expression.
"Open."
She didn't. So I slapped her. Hard. Across the face. Her head snapped to the side, and she cried out, a loud, ugly sob.
"I said open your fucking mouth, Wonyoung."
She opened. I shoved my cock all the way down her throat, not giving her a second to adjust. She gagged, her throat convulsing around me, tears streaming down her face. I held her head, fucking her mouth with brutal, deep strokes, each one making her choke and sputter.
"Take it. Take all of it. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Attention?"
She couldn't answer. Couldn't do anything but drool and gag and take it. I came down her throat without warning, pumping thick ropes of cum straight into her stomach. She swallowed reflexively, coughing, but I didn't let her pull away until I was empty.
I pulled out, watched her collapse forward, gasping for air, her blouse stained with drool and tears.
"Get up."
She tried. Her legs were shaking. I grabbed her by the waist, hoisted her up, and carried her to the leather couch in the corner. She was limp, exhausted, but I wasn't done.
I flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her skirt up around her waist, and tore her panties off. Her ass was pale, perfect, untouched. Not for long.
"Spread your legs."
"No more, please—"
I slapped her ass cheek, hard, leaving a red handprint. "Spread. Them."
She sobbed but did as she was told. I positioned myself behind her, lined up my cock with her pussy—still tight, still dry—and pushed in. She screamed. A raw, guttural sound of pure pain.
"Fuck, you're so tight," I groaned, forcing myself deeper. Her walls clenched against me, trying to expel the intrusion, but I just kept pushing. "Take it. Take all of it."
I fucked her in that position, prone bone, her body pressed flat against the couch, my weight on top of her. Each thrust drove her deeper into the leather. I reached under her, found her hard nipples through the blouse, pinched and twisted them until she cried out.
"I'm going to destroy this cunt. By the time I'm done, you won't be able to walk straight."
I pulled out, flipped her onto her back. Her legs dangled over the edge of the couch. I grabbed her ankles, lifted them straight up, spreading her wide—the hang ten position. Her pussy was red, swollen, glistening with her pain-induced wetness. I slammed back in, deeper this time, angling up to hit that spot that made her scream.
"Please, please, it hurts—"
"Good."
I fucked her missionary, brutal and fast, watching her tits bounce under that polka-dot blouse, her head thrown back, tears streaming into her hair. I leaned down, bit her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. She whimpered, and I licked the spot, then moved to her ear, nibbling the lobe, alternating between soft bites and harsh thrusts.
"Look at me."
She refused. I slapped her again, this time across the breasts. She yelped, and I slapped the other one, watching her nipples harden despite the pain.
"Look at me when I'm fucking you."
She opened her eyes. Red-rimmed, glassy, broken. Good.
I lifted her legs higher, folding her nearly in half, shifting into the piledriver position. Her ass was in the air, her pussy angled perfectly upward. I drove into her with deep, punishing strokes, watching my cock disappear into her abused cunt over and over.
"Such a good little idol now, aren't you? Taking your manager's cock like a proper slut."
She couldn't speak. Just moaned, a broken, pathetic sound.
I pulled out, flipped her over again, onto her stomach. Raised her hips so her ass was up. The oyster position—legs together, pussy exposed from behind. I shoved my cock back in, this time aiming higher. For her ass.
"No, no, no, please, not there—"
I didn't stop. I pushed into her tight asshole, the dry resistance making me groan. She screamed—a high, piercing sound—and I covered her mouth with my hand, muffling her cries.
"Shh, shh, you'll wake the whole building."
I fucked her ass slowly at first, letting her feel every inch of the stretch, the burn. Then faster, harder, deep penetration that made her whole body convulse with each thrust. I could feel her pussy clenching beneath, desperate for release, but I wasn't giving her any.
I came inside her ass, hot and thick, then pulled out and watched my cum leak out of her stretched hole. She was trembling, face-down, her blouse soaked, her hair a mess, her makeup ruined.
I grabbed her by the hair, pulled her up, sat her on my lap. She was limp, pliant. I wrapped her legs around my waist, entered her pussy from below, fucking her slow and deep while she cried into my shoulder.
"This is what you are now," I whispered, kissing her forehead, then biting down on her lip. "My little slut. Say it."
"I—I'm your—"
"Say it."
"I'm your little slut."
"Good girl."
I stood up, carrying her, my cock still buried inside her. Walking her around the room, each step making her moan as I bounced her on my dick. She clung to me, her nails digging into my back, her legs wrapped around my waist.
I sat her back down, spread her legs wide as she could go—the spread eagle position. Her arms stretched out, held down by my hands. I fucked her again, slow and deep, watching her face, the way her eyes rolled back, the way her mouth hung open in a silent scream.
"Cum for me."
"I can't—"
"Cum for me, or I start over."
Her body betrayed her. Her back arched, her pussy clamped down around me, and she came—a violent, painful orgasm that shook her entire frame. I followed, emptying myself inside her one last time.
I collapsed on top of her, staying inside, feeling her twitch around me. Her breathing was ragged, her body covered in sweat and marks and bruises.
I pulled out slowly, stood up, zipped my pants. She lay there, unable to move, her skirt hiked up, her blouse torn, a mess of cum and sweat and tears.
"Clean yourself up," I said, heading for the door. "We have a schedule at 7am tomorrow. Don't be late."
I didn't look back. I didn't need to. She'd learned her lesson. And if she forgot, I'd be happy to remind her.
She tried to be good. For three days, she was perfect. On time. Polite. Submissive. She'd look at me with those big, wet eyes, and I'd think, finally. She gets it.
But idols are creatures of habit. And Wonyoung was a brat at her core.
It started small. A muttered complaint backstage. A late arrival to rehearsal. Rolling her eyes when I gave her directions during a photoshoot. By the end of the week, she was back to her old self—snapping at stylists, ignoring my calls, acting like the queen of the world.
She forgot who owned her.
I waited until after the fan signing event. The venue was packed, hundreds of fans screaming her name, holding up phones, recording every moment. She smiled, waved, did her little heart-shaped hand gesture. The perfect idol.
I texted her: Stay after. We need to talk.
She didn't respond. But I saw her glance at her phone, saw the flash of annoyance cross her face. She knew what was coming. She thought she could handle it.
She was wrong.
The venue emptied. Security cleared the area. The streets outside were still busy—late-night Seoul, fans lingering, a few stragglers hoping for another glimpse of their idols.
I found her in the back hallway, purse in hand, trying to leave.
"Going somewhere?"
"Home," she said, not meeting my eyes. "I'm tired."
"You're not tired. You're disobedient."
She huffed, rolled her eyes—that fucking eye roll—and turned to walk away. I grabbed her arm, yanked her back. She stumbled, her heels clicking against the tile.
"Let go of me!"
"Shut up."
I dragged her toward the back exit. She struggled, digging her heels in, but I was stronger. I pushed open the door and shoved her into the alley behind the venue.
The street was visible from here. A few fans were still gathered at the corner, maybe twenty meters away. Their heads turned. Phones came up.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, panic in her voice. "People are watching!"
"Good."
I slammed her against the brick wall. The rough surface scraped her bare arms, tore at her blouse. She was wearing a different outfit today—a fitted white crop top and high-waisted jeans, her midriff exposed. Her hair was down, styled in soft waves.
I grabbed her throat.
Her eyes went wide, genuine fear flooding them. I squeezed, feeling her windpipe compress under my palm. She gasped, clawed at my hand, but I squeezed harder.
"You think you can act like a brat after everything I taught you?" I hissed, my face inches from hers. "You think I won't remind you who you belong to?"
She tried to speak, but only a choked wheeze came out. Her face was turning red. The fans on the street were filming now, phones pointed at us, their voices a distant murmur of shock and excitement.
I let go. She collapsed, gasping, coughing, tears streaming down her face.
"On your knees."
She shook her head, still trying to catch her breath. I grabbed her hair, forced her down. The concrete was cold against her jeans. The sound of camera shutters filled the air.
"Look at them," I said, tilting her chin toward the crowd. "Look at your fans. They're watching. They're filming. Do you want them to see what a slut you are?"
"Please, not here—"
I backhanded her across the face. Hard. Her head snapped to the side, blood dripping from her split lip. The crowd gasped. More phones. More filming.
"Take off your jeans."
"No—"
I hit her again. And again. Each blow made her cry out, made her flinch, made her curl into herself. By the time I stopped, her face was swollen, bruised, her lip busted, her eye blackening. She was sobbing openly, her perfect idol image shattered in front of dozens of cameras.
"Take. Off. Your. Jeans."
She did. Shaking, crying, she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her thighs. Her white panties were visible, a small damp patch already forming. The crowd was getting closer, forming a semi-circle around us, phones held high.
I pulled out the dildo from my bag. Black, eight inches, veined and realistic. Her eyes went wide when she saw it.
"You know what this is."
She shook her head frantically. "No, please, not in front of—"
I grabbed her jaw, forced her mouth open, and shoved the dildo down her throat. She gagged, choked, drool spilling down her chin. The crowd murmured, a few people gasping, but no one stopped filming. No one intervened.
I fucked her face with the silicone cock, watching her struggle, her eyes streaming tears, her mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. When I pulled it out, she gasped for air, coughing and sputtering.
"Now, for your cunt."
I pushed her onto her back, spread her legs. The concrete was cold against her bare skin. I pressed the tip of the dildo against her panties, feeling the wetness underneath.
"Look at how wet you are. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mouth doesn't."
I shoved the dildo inside her, past her panties, into her bare cunt. She screamed—a raw, loud, public scream that echoed off the buildings. The crowd shifted, phones capturing every angle.
I fucked her with it, hard and fast, watching her tits bounce under the crop top, watching her face contort in pain and humiliation. Her legs kicked, tried to close, but I pinned them open with my knees.
"Your fans are watching, Wonyoung. Wave to them."
She couldn't. She was too busy crying, moaning, her body betraying her as the dildo hit her deepest spots. I pulled it out, dripping with her slick, and shoved it in her mouth.
"Clean it."
She did, sobbing, tasting herself.
I reached into my bag again. Pulled out the anal beads—a string of silicone balls, progressively larger, attached to a loop at the end. Her eyes went wide with fresh terror.
"Please, no, I can't—"
"You can. You will."
I flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her panties down to her ankles. Her ass was pale, perfect, trembling. I pressed the first bead against her tight hole, pushed it in. She whimpered, her body tensing.
"Relax, or it'll hurt worse."
She tried. She failed. I pushed the second bead in, then the third. Each one made her cry out, her body shaking, her fists clenched against the concrete. The crowd was silent now, just the sound of cameras and her sobs.
By the time the last bead was in, she was a mess—tears, drool, sweat, blood from her lip. I pulled the beads out slowly, one by one, watching her ass clench and release, watching her shudder with each pop.
I stood up, unzipped my pants. My cock was hard, aching. I pulled her up by the hair, pushed her against the wall, spread her legs.
"Time for the real thing."
I entered her from behind, her pussy soaked from the dildo, her body exhausted and broken. She moaned—a pathetic, broken sound—as I slid inside her, deeper and deeper, until I was buried to the hilt.
"Feel that? That's your owner. That's who you belong to."
I fucked her against the wall, in full view of the street, the crowd growing larger, phones recording every second. She was limp, pliant, just taking it, her face pressed against the brick, her moans muffled.
I grabbed her throat again, squeezed. Not enough to kill, but enough to make her see stars. She choked, her body convulsing around my cock, and I fucked her harder, faster, deeper.
"Look at them. Look at your fans watching you get fucked like the whore you are."
She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Her eyes rolled back, her body going limp, and I felt her consciousness slip away. She went slack in my arms, passed out from the strangulation and the fucking.
I didn't stop.
I fucked her unconscious body, using her like a doll, her legs dangling, her head lolling back. The crowd was dead silent now, just the sound of my hips slapping against her thighs, my grunts, her limp body taking every thrust.
I came inside her. Deep. Hot. Thick. Pumping my seed into her womb, filling her with my cum. Breeding her. Marking her from the inside.
I pulled out, let her slide to the ground. She lay there, half-naked, unconscious, cum leaking out of her pussy, her face bruised, her body marked. The cameras kept rolling.
I crouched down, grabbed her chin, lifted her face. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, barely conscious.
"Remember this," I whispered. "Remember what happens when you're a brat. Remember that your fans saw everything. Remember that you belong to me."
She tried to speak, but only a weak moan escaped her lips.
I stood up, zipped my pants, and walked away. The crowd parted for me, phones still recording, faces stunned and silent.
Behind me, Wonyoung lay on the cold concrete, broken, used, finally understanding her place.
And if she forgot, I'd be back. I'd always be back.
Can you write Yujin noncon with her being taken advantage of by Rei's grandpa while Yujin visits Rei's grandparents' house when they are on vacation.
Rei's grandpa manipulates Yujin telling her he will rape his granddaughter Rei if she doesn't obey him. So Yujin reluctantly has sex with him and throws herself at him every time he threatens to fuck Rei during their vacation period.
Enjoy! 😀
Grandfather's Grip
TW: NON-CON | Don't Like It, Don't Read It.
An Yujin × M!Reader
The summer heat clung to An Yujin's skin as she stepped through the front door of Rei's grandparents' house, a quaint traditional Korean home nestled in the countryside. Rei had been so excited to bring her groupmates here during their brief vacation, but one by one the others had made excuses—Liz had a schedule, Gaeul wanted to rest, Leeseo and Wonyoung had family commitments. So it was just Yujin and Rei, here for a few days of relaxation.
Rei had gone to the bathroom the moment they arrived, leaving Yujin alone in the living room with her grandfather—a stout man in his late sixties with sharp eyes that seemed to see too much.
"You're the leader, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and calm. "The one they call the chief."
Yujin smiled politely. "Yes, sir. I try to take care of the members."
He nodded slowly, his gaze traveling down her body in a way that made her skin prickle. She was wearing a loose summer dress—nothing provocative, just a simple floral thing that fell to her knees. But the way he looked at her made her feel naked.
"You're very pretty," he said. "Rei never mentioned that."
Before Yujin could respond, he stepped closer. "You know," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Rei is very precious to me. My only granddaughter. I would do anything to protect her."
Yujin nodded, confused. "Of course, sir."
"Anything." The word hung in the air. "And I would also do anything if someone hurt her. If someone disobeyed me." He pulled out his phone, showing her a photo—Rei, sleeping in her childhood bedroom, a camera angle from inside the closet. "I have cameras everywhere. I know everything that happens in this house. If you don't cooperate with me, I'll make sure Rei suffers. I'll fuck her myself, right here, and make you watch."
Yujin's blood ran cold. "You're insane."
"Maybe." He smiled. "But you're going to do exactly what I say, or Rei will pay the price. Now, get on your knees."
Yujin's hands trembled as she lowered herself onto the tatami mat. Her mind raced—she could scream, she could run, she could call the police. But the threat against Rei, the cameras, the look in his eyes—it all paralyzed her.
"Good girl," he said, stepping in front of her. "Open your mouth."
She hesitated, and he reached down, grabbing her jaw roughly. His fingers pried her lips apart, and he shoved two fingers into her mouth. They tasted of salt and tobacco, and she gagged as he pushed deeper, curling them against her tongue.
"That's it," he murmured. "Suck them. Show me you know how to obey."
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she sucked his fingers, tasting her own saliva and his skin. He pulled them out slowly, wiping them on her cheek.
"Now stand up. Bend over the arm of that chair."
The wooden arm of the old chair was smooth and worn. Yujin bent over, her dress riding up her thighs. He grabbed the hem and yanked it up, exposing her white panties. He didn't bother taking them off—just pulled them aside, his fingers finding her cunt.
"Already wet," he noted, his voice mocking. "You're a natural slut, aren't you?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His fingers pushed into her pussy without warning, two at once, then three. She gasped, gripping the chair's fabric. He pumped them in and out, his thumb pressing against her clit. Then he pulled out his fingers, wet with her, and shoved them into her ass.
"No—!" she cried out.
"Quiet," he hissed, his other hand clamping over her mouth. His fingers worked her asshole, stretching her roughly. She whimpered into his palm, tears streaming down her face.
He removed his hand from her mouth and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. "On your knees again. I want to taste you."
He pushed her down onto the floor and knelt behind her, spreading her legs wide. She felt his tongue—rough, insistent—licking from her pussy to her asshole. He ate her out like a starving man, his tongue probing both holes, his teeth grazing her labia. She shuddered, a mix of revulsion and unwanted pleasure coiling in her belly.
"I said taste you," he growled, flipping her onto her back. "Now I'm going to eat your pussy properly. Don't you dare close your legs."
He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue fucking her cunt while his fingers worked her ass. She choked back a sob as he bit her clit—sharp, punishing—then soothed it with his tongue. He was rough, methodical, taking his time
After what felt like an eternity, he stood up. "Bend over my lap."
She obeyed, lying across his thighs, her ass in the air. His hand came down hard—smack—on her left cheek. Then the right. Again and again, each slap echoing in the quiet room. Her skin turned pink, then red, and she cried out with each blow.
He paused, running his fingers over the welts. "Beautiful," he whispered, then bit her ass cheek, his teeth sinking into the flesh. She yelped, and he bit again, nibbling along the curve of her ass, leaving marks.
He slapped her pussy, hard. She screamed. "That's for thinking you could refuse me."
He slapped her again, then again, each strike making her jerk. Her cunt was burning, her ass on fire, her mind blank with pain and humiliation.
"Get up," he ordered. "Time for the real fun."
He led her to the bedroom, where he had set up a camera on a tripod, pointing at the bed. "Smile for the camera. You're going to be a star."
He pushed her onto the bed, face down. "Prone bone. I want to feel you squirm."
He positioned himself behind her, his cock—hard, thick, uncut—pressing against her pussy. He entered her in one brutal thrust, no warning, no lubrication beyond her own wetness. She screamed into the pillow as he fucked her, his hips slapping against her spanked ass, his hands gripping her hips.
"Look at me," he said, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. "Look at the camera."
He kept fucking her, deeper, harder, his pace relentless. She could feel every inch of him, stretching her, filling her. He reached around and pinched her clit, making her gasp.
"Come for me," he ordered. "Come on camera, or I'll make Rei watch this later."
Her body betrayed her. The combination of pain, humiliation, and his relentless pounding sent her over the edge. She came, shuddering, her pussy clenching around him.
"Good whore," he said, pulling out. "Now on your knees. I'm not done."
He grabbed a dildo from the drawer—a thick, veined silicone cock—and shoved it into her pussy. "Keep it in. Now the anal beads."
He held up a string of graduated beads, each one larger than the last. He pushed the first one into her ass, then the second, then the third. She gasped as they stretched her, one by one, until all six were inside. He left the string dangling from her asshole.
"Now the vibrator," he said, picking up a bullet vibe. He turned it on high and pressed it against her clit, holding it there. "Suck my cock while I play with you."
He stood in front of her, his cock at her lips. She opened her mouth, and he fucked her face, his hands gripping her hair, while the vibrator buzzed against her clit and the beads shifted inside her ass with every movement.
He came in her mouth without warning, hot and bitter, and she swallowed because she knew she had to.
"Full nelson," he said, pulling her up. He locked his arms around her neck, his hands gripping her shoulders, and entered her from behind, his cock sliding into her pussy in this new, deeper angle. "I'm going to fuck you like this until I'm ready to cum again."
He fucked her standing, her body trapped in his hold, his biceps pressed against her tits. She couldn't move, couldn't escape. The camera captured every angle.
He came again, this time pulling out and shooting his cum across her back.
He set up the dildo on a suction cup, placing it on the floor. "Ride it. I want to watch."
She lowered herself onto the dildo, her pussy stretching around it, while he watched, his hand lazily stroking his cock. He turned on a larger vibrator and pressed it against her ass, the vibrations making her moan despite herself.
"Faster," he ordered. "Or I'll wake Rei up and make her watch."
Yujin rode the dildo, her body moving on its own, tears streaming down her face. The vibrator buzzed against her asshole, the anal beads still inside her, the dildo fucking her pussy.
He came again, jerking himself onto her tits.
He pulled the beads out of her ass, one by one, each pop making her whimper. Then he pulled the dildo out of her pussy. He threw her onto the bed, spread her legs, and fucked her again—this time slower, more deliberate, looking into her eyes.
"You're going to come back tomorrow," he said. "And every day until your vacation ends. And you're going to tell Rei you had a wonderful time. Understand?"
She nodded, her voice gone.
He came inside her this time, filling her with his cum.
The camera kept recording as he pulled out, as he wiped himself with a towel, as he looked at her broken body on the bed.
"Clean yourself up," he said. "Rei will be back from the bathroom soon. Remember—one word, and I'll make sure you watch me fuck her until she bleeds."
Yujin lay there, cum dripping from her pussy, her ass sore, her face swollen from crying. She heard the toilet flush down the hall.
The first thing I notice is the way she's standing at the edge of the pool, that pink cropped camisole clinging to her small tits, white ruffle trim bouncing with every nervous breath. The dark denim shorts hug her hips, showing off the curve of her ass. She's been avoiding my calls all day, and I can see the guilt written all over her pretty face. That's cute. That's really fucking cute.
"Yeonji," I say, my voice low, controlled. "Come here."
She hesitates, her eyes darting to the side, and that tiny rebellion makes my blood heat. The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity.
I cross the patio in three long strides, grab her by the wrist, and yank her toward me. She stumbles, letting out a soft gasp, and I drag her through the back door, through the living room, straight to the bedroom. She knows what's coming. I can feel her trembling under my grip.
"Please," she whispers. "I didn't mean to—"
"Shut up."
I toss her onto the bed. She lands with a bounce, her shorts riding up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. I'm on her before she can scramble away, my knee pressing into the mattress between her legs, my hand wrapping around her throat. Not hard enough to cut off air. Just enough to remind her who owns her.
"Did you think you could ignore me?" I growl, my thumb pressing into the soft hollow of her collarbone. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Tears well in her eyes. Good. I love that look—the fear, the submission, the knowledge that she's completely at my mercy.
I rip the camisole down, the fabric tearing, her small tits spilling out. I don't bother with the bow. I just grab her left tit, squeezing hard, kneading the soft flesh until she whimpers. My other hand shoves up her shorts, past the waistband of her panties, finding her pussy already wet. Fucking slut. She's always wet for me, even when she's scared.
"Look at you," I mutter, sliding two fingers inside her cunt without warning. She arches her back, a strangled cry escaping her lips. "Soaking my fingers. You love this, don't you? You love being used."
I fuck her with my fingers, hard and fast, the wet sounds filling the room. Her legs start to shake, her thighs quivering as I curl my fingers, pressing against that spot that makes her see stars. She's close—I can feel her clenching around me—but I pull out before she can come. Not yet. I'm not done with her.
I flip her over, shoving her face into the mattress. Her shorts and panties come off in one rough yank, leaving her bare, her ass in the air. I spread her cheeks with both hands, exposing her tight little hole, and I spit on it. She shudders, and I press my thumb against her asshole, pushing in slow, watching her body tense.
"Please," she gasps, her voice muffled by the sheets. "It hurts—"
"I know."
I work my thumb deeper, stretching her, while my other hand reaches around to finger her pussy from behind. Two fingers in her cunt, thumb in her ass, and she's shaking, her legs giving out, her whole body trembling. I press down on her lower back, keeping her pinned, and I fuck her with both hands until she's sobbing, drooling into the mattress.
The first orgasm hits her like a wave. She cries out, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her asshole tightening around my thumb. I don't stop. I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her, until she's begging me to stop.
"You don't get to tell me to stop," I say, pulling my fingers out and shoving them into her mouth. "Suck."
She does. She licks my fingers clean, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with a cold satisfaction. I pull my hand away, grab her by the hair, and drag her to the edge of the bed. I sit down, pulling her over my lap, her bare ass in the air.
The first spank lands hard, and she yelps. The second leaves a red handprint. The third makes her sob. I spank her until her ass is bright red, hot to the touch, and she's crying into the carpet. I don't stop until I'm satisfied, and then I reach for my belt.
The buckle clinks as I slide it out of the loops. She hears it, and she starts begging, pleading, but I ignore her. I fold the belt in half, the leather heavy in my hand, and I bring it down across her ass.
The crack echoes through the room. A red line appears on her skin. She screams.
I whip her again. And again. And again. Each strike leaves a mark, a welt, a reminder of who she belongs to. By the time I'm done, her ass is a mess of red and purple stripes, and she's weeping, her body limp over my lap.
"Get up," I say.
She can't. Her legs are too weak, her body too broken. So I grab her by the waist, haul her up, and carry her to the pool. She's limp in my arms, her head lolling, her body covered in sweat and marks. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.
I step into the water, the cold shocking her awake. She squirms, trying to push away, but I hold her tight. I walk deeper, until the water reaches my chest, and then I dunk her.
She thrashes, her arms flailing, bubbles rising. I hold her under for five seconds before pulling her up. She gasps, coughing, choking on water. I wait for her to catch her breath, and then I dunk her again.
This time, I hold her longer. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Her movements grow weaker, her struggles fading. When I pull her up, she's barely conscious, her eyes fluttering, her lips blue.
I drag her to the edge of the pool, my body pressing her against the tile. The water laps at her waist, and I spread her legs, positioning myself between them. I shove my cock into her pussy, and she moans, a weak, pathetic sound that makes me harder.
I fuck her in the water, my hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to cut off her air. She gasps, her eyes rolling back, her legs wrapping around my waist. The water sloshes around us, and I pound into her, using her, taking what's mine.
"You're nothing," I hiss in her ear. "You're nothing without me. I made you. I own you. And if you ever try to leave me, I'll destroy you. I'll leak every video, every photo, every dirty little secret you've ever told me. You'll be ruined. Your career, your life, everything."
She's crying, her tears mixing with the pool water. Her body is shaking, convulsing, as another orgasm rips through her. She comes on my cock, her pussy clenching, and I keep fucking her, using her pleasure against her.
I carry her back to the bedroom, her body limp and wet, and I lay her on the bed. She's half-conscious, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. I take her again, this time from behind, my hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back as I fuck her ass. She's too weak to resist, too broken to do anything but take it.
I come inside her, filling her, marking her. And when I'm done, I roll off, leaving her there, a crumpled mess on the sheets.
She's not moving. Her breathing is shallow, her body covered in bruises and welts. I reach for the small bottle of pills in my pocket, the ones I slipped into her drink earlier. They're already in her system, making her pliant, compliant, easy to use.
I lean over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," I whisper. "You know that, right? I do this because I love you. Because you're mine."
She doesn't respond. She can't. But that's fine. She'll learn. She always does.
With the members having a secret meeting with VIPs to sign another contract to get out of ADOR.
Just to get drugged, filmed & have their virginity taken away.
Enjoy!
Downfall Of NewJeans
TW: NON-CON | Don't Like It, Don't Read It.
NewJeans × M!Reader
Five little birds in their pressed blazers and expensive skirts, trying to look like they belong in a boardroom. They think they're negotiating a better contract. They think they're escaping the clutches of ADOR. They don't know they're walking into a slaughterhouse.
Minji leads the way, all business, her chin held high. She's the oldest, the leader, the one who thinks she has to protect the others. I watch her sit down, smoothing her skirt, her eyes scanning the room. She finds me, and she smiles. A professional smile. A rehearsed smile. It makes my cock twitch.
Hanni is next. She's got fire in her eyes. She doesn't trust us. Smart girl. She sits with her legs crossed, her arms folded, her body language screaming defiance. I'm going to enjoy breaking that defiance.
Danielle is sweet, nervous, playing with her hair. She smiles at everyone, trying to be polite, trying to make a good impression. She's the one who will cry the prettiest.
Haerin is quiet. She sits down without a word, her eyes fixed on the table. She's the observer. The one who watches. I'll make sure she sees everything.
And then there's Hyein. The youngest. Barely eighteen. She's wearing a white blouse and a gray skirt, looking like a schoolgirl on a field trip. She's nervous, her hands trembling, her eyes wide. She's the one I want the most.
"Welcome," I say, my voice smooth, practiced. "Thank you for coming. We're very excited about the possibility of working with you."
Minji nods, launching into her prepared speech. Something about creative freedom, about wanting to grow as artists. I let her talk. I let her believe she's in control. My associates are already moving, positioning themselves behind the girls. The cameras are rolling. The doors are locked.
The champagne is poured. Hyein takes a sip, her eyes brightening. Danielle takes two sips, and I watch her pupils dilate. The GHB is fast-acting. Within minutes, Danielle's head is drooping, her eyes glazing over. Haerin blinks, confused, touching her face. Hyein giggles, then slumps forward.
"What's happening?" Minji asks, her voice sharp. She stands up. "What did you give us?"
I don't answer. I just watch as Hanni lunges for the door. One of my associates grabs her by the hair, slamming her face into the wall. She crumples, blood pouring from her nose. Minji tries to run, but I catch her by the waist, my arm locking around her throat. I squeeze, just enough to cut off her air, feeling her struggles weaken.
"Shh," I whisper in her ear. "It's going to be a long night."
I drag her to the table, shoving her face-down onto the polished mahogany. Her skirt is yanked up, her panties torn off. I spread her legs, exposing her cunt to the cameras. She's already wet. Fucking slut. They're always wet.
"Look at the camera, Minji," I say, grabbing her chin, forcing her head up. "Tell them who you belong to."
She spits at me. I slap her across the face, hard enough to split her lip. Blood smears across the table.
"I said, tell them."
"I belong to you," she whispers, tears streaming down her face.
"Louder."
"I BELONG TO YOU!"
I shove two fingers into her pussy, rough and dry. She screams, her body arching. I fuck her with my fingers, stretching her, while my other hand wraps around her throat. I squeeze, her eyes rolling back, her breath coming in gasps.
My associates are busy with the others. Hanni is on the floor, getting beaten. One of them is stomping on her back, while another is yanking her hair, forcing her head back. He pulls down his pants and shoves his cock into her mouth. She bites down, and he punches her in the face. Her head snaps back, blood pouring from her split lip.
"Fucking bitch," he growls, slapping her again. "Open your mouth."
She spits blood at him. He laughs, grabs her by the jaw, and forces her mouth open. He fucks her face, gagging her, choking her, until she's barely conscious.
Danielle is out cold on the table. I leave Minji for a moment—her body is limp, her legs shaking—and I go to Danielle. I part her legs, burying my face between her thighs. Her pussy is soft, warm, completely unresponsive. I eat her out anyway, licking, sucking, biting her clit, leaving marks on her inner thighs. I flip her over, grab her ass, and eat her out from behind, tongue fucking her asshole while she lies there, unconscious.
Haerin is the quiet one. She's been kneeling on the floor, watching, her eyes glassy. I walk over to her, grab her chin, force her to look at me. "You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"
She nods.
"Open your mouth."
She does. I shove three fingers in, fucking her mouth, making her gag. She doesn't struggle. She just takes it. I pull my fingers out, wet with her saliva, and shove them up her ass. She whimpers, but doesn't move. I finger her ass, stretching her, while my other hand fingers her pussy. She's so tight, so perfect.
"Please," she whispers. "Please stop."
I don't stop. I keep fingering her, feeling her body tense, feeling her orgasm build. She comes on my fingers, her body convulsing, and I keep fucking her through it, overstimulating her until she's sobbing.
"Good girl," I say, pulling my fingers out. "Now suck them clean."
She does. She licks my fingers, her own juices coating her tongue, and I watch her with cold satisfaction.
Hyein is next. She's still on the table, her body limp, her eyes half-closed. I grab her by the ankles, dragging her to the edge. Her skirt is hiked up, her white panties visible. I rip them off, exposing her bare cunt. She's tight, untouched, perfect.
I spread her legs wide, my associate shoving a camera in her face. "Look at the camera, Hyein. Tell them who you belong to."
She's crying too hard to speak. I slap her across the face. Her head snaps to the side. "Tell them."
"I... I belong to you," she whispers.
"Louder."
"I BELONG TO YOU!"
I push my cock into her pussy, slowly, watching her face contort in pain. She screams, a raw, primal sound that echoes off the glass walls. I fuck her, hard and fast, my hips slapping against her ass. She's crying, begging, but I don't care. I wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze. Her eyes roll back. Her body goes limp. I keep fucking her, even as she loses consciousness.
I come inside her, filling her with my cum. I pull out, and one of the other guys takes my place, fucking her mouth while she's out.
We take turns with them. All five of them. We pass them around like toys. Minji gets fucked in every hole, twice. Hanni gets beaten until she can't stand, then fucked in the ass while she's unconscious. Danielle gets used like a doll, her body bent and twisted into positions. Haerin gets double penetrated, her mouth, pussy, and ass all filled at once. Hyein, the youngest, gets passed around last. I make sure I'm the one who takes her first. I want to feel her break.
By the time we're done, the room is a mess. Blood, cum, tears, sweat. The five of them are scattered across the floor, bruised, broken, drugged, half-dead.
I pick up the camera, reviewing the footage. Every angle. Every scream. Every violation. Perfect.
I walk over to Minji, who is curled up in a fetal position, her body covered in bruises and bite marks. I kneel down, brushing her hair out of her face. "You did well," I whisper. "Welcome to the agency."
Her eyes are open, but she's not seeing anything. She's gone. Broken. Exactly how I want her.
The champagne bottles are empty now, scattered across the floor amidst shattered glass and torn fabric. The air is thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and cum. The five of them are barely conscious, their bodies arranged on the long mahogany table like a feast for predators. I look at my associates, eight of us in total, and I know we're not done yet.
Minji is on her back, her legs spread wide, her pussy swollen and bruised from the first round. I grab her by the hair, dragging her to the edge of the table. "You think that was it?" I whisper, my voice low and venomous. "We're just getting started."
One of my associates shoves his cock into her mouth, forcing her head down. Another positions himself between her legs, pushing his dick into her pussy without preparation. She screams around the cock in her throat, her body jerking. A third man climbs onto the table, kneeling behind her, spreading her ass cheeks. He spits on her asshole, rubs it with his thumb, then rams his cock inside.
Double penetration. Pussy and ass, filled at the same time. Minji's eyes roll back, her body convulsing, her screams muffled. The man in her mouth grips her hair, fucking her throat, while the other two fuck her in rhythm, their hips slapping against her bruised flesh. I watch her face contort in agony, tears and snot streaming down her cheeks.
"Harder," I command.
They obey. They pound into her, their balls slapping against her skin. The man in her ass reaches around, grabbing her tits, pinching her nipples until they bleed. She's crying, choking, her body limp. They don't stop. They keep fucking her, using her, breaking her.
Hanni is on the floor, facedown, her arms pinned behind her back by one of my associates. Her ass is in the air, her pussy and asshole exposed. Two men take positions behind her, one fucking her pussy, the other her ass. They spit on her holes, using her dry, the friction tearing her skin. She screams into the carpet, her nails scratching at the floor.
"Look at me," I say, grabbing her chin, forcing her head up. "I want to see your face when they break you."
She glares at me, defiant even now. I slap her across the face, once, twice, three times. Her nose bursts, blood spraying across the floor. I grab her hair and slam her face into the carpet, grinding her cheek into the fibers.
"Fucking bitch," I spit. "You'll learn."
The men behind her pick up the pace, fucking her harder, deeper. One of them reaches around, shoving his fingers into her mouth, gagging her. She bites down, and he punches her in the back of the head. Her body goes limp, but they keep fucking her, using her unconscious body like a doll.
Danielle is still out cold from the GHB. We flip her onto her stomach, her ass in the air. Two men take her, one in her pussy, one in her ass. She doesn't react. She just lies there, her body jerking with each thrust. A third man straddles her face, shoving his cock into her mouth, fucking her throat. She gags, her body convulsing, but she doesn't wake up.
"Film this," I say, pointing to the cameras. "I want every angle."
The cameras zoom in, capturing every detail. The way her ass ripples with each thrust. The way her mouth stretches around the cock. The way her pussy lips are swollen and red. The way cum drips down her thighs.
Haerin is on her knees, her hands tied behind her back. Three men surround her. One fucks her mouth, one fucks her pussy from behind, and one fucks her ass. She's crying silently, her body trembling, her eyes glassy. She's already broken. She doesn't fight. She just takes it.
"Look at the camera," I say, grabbing her chin. "Tell them how much you love it."
She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. I slap her, hard. "Tell them."
"I love it," she whispers, her voice hollow.
"Louder."
"I LOVE IT!"
The men fuck her harder, faster, their grunts filling the room. She comes, her body convulsing, but they don't stop. They keep fucking her, overstimulating her, making her scream.
Hyein is the youngest, the smallest, the most fragile. She's curled up in a corner, her body covered in bruises and bite marks. She's crying, her sobs echoing off the walls. I walk over to her, grabbing her by the ankle, dragging her across the floor. She screams, clawing at the carpet, leaving bloody streaks from her broken nails.
"Please," she begs. "Please, no more."
I don't answer. I throw her onto the table, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy is raw, her asshole bloody. I grab her by the throat, squeezing until her eyes bulge.
"You're my favorite," I whisper. "You're going to take all of us."
I shove my cock into her pussy, dry and brutal. She screams, a high-pitched, animalistic sound that makes my cock harder. I fuck her, hard and fast, my hips slamming into her. One of my associates grabs her head, shoving his cock into her mouth. Another positions himself behind her, pushing into her ass. She's filled in every hole, her body stretched and broken.
"Double penetration," I grunt, fucking her faster. "Triple. All of you."
Two more men crowd around, one shoving his cock into her mouth alongside the first, both of them fucking her throat. She gags, choking, her face turning purple. I squeeze her throat harder, cutting off her air, and I feel her pussy tighten around my cock. She's about to pass out.
"Don't stop," I command.
We don't stop. We fuck her until she's unconscious, then we keep fucking her. We use her body like a toy, passing her around, filling her holes with cum. When she wakes up, screaming, we start again.
The room is chaos. Eight men, five girls. Every hole filled, every body used. The cameras capture everything. The screams. The tears. The blood. The cum.
Minji is on the table, her body twisted, her legs in the air. She's being double penetrated again, this time by two different men. Her mouth is filled with a cock, her hands pinned down. She's crying, but no sound comes out. Her voice is gone.
Hanni is on the floor, her face in a puddle of cum. She's being fucked in the ass, her pussy filled with a fist. One of my associates is fisting her, his hand buried in her cunt while another man fucks her ass. She's screaming, her body convulsing, her mind broken.
Danielle is still unconscious. We flip her over, fuck her pussy, fuck her ass, fuck her mouth. We use her like a ragdoll, her body limp, her eyes closed. We take turns, filling her with cum, then starting again.
Haerin is on her back, her legs spread wide. Two men fuck her pussy and ass while a third fucks her mouth. She's given up. She just lies there, her eyes empty, her body taking the abuse.
Hyein is in my arms, her body limp, her head lolling. I fuck her pussy while another man fucks her ass. Her mouth is filled with a third cock. She's barely conscious, her breathing shallow. I lean in, biting her neck, drawing blood.
"You're mine," I whisper. "All of you. Forever."
I come inside her, filling her with my cum. The other men do the same, covering her body in layers of semen. When we're done, we leave them on the table, broken and bleeding.
I pick up the camera, reviewing the footage. Every scream. Every tear. Every violation.
Perfect.
"Clean them up," I say, my voice cold. "Dress them. We have a contract to sign."
The PUREFLOW tour was the peak of their careers a sold-out show in Incheon, a river of lightsticks, and the roar of fifty thousand voices. Backstage, the five members of LE SSERAFIM glowed with sweat and adrenaline. An exclusive VIP after-party was the reward, a chance to toast their most dedicated fans. The lounge was lavish, filled with bouquets and champagne.
The drinks were poured. Yunjin raised her glass first, her bright smile lighting up the room. Sakura laughed politely. Chaewon watched the five chosen winners, her leader instincts prickling, but the champagne was smooth and cold, and the men seemed harmless. Kazuha sipped daintily. Eunchae, the youngest, giggled nervously.
The drug hit them all within seconds.
It was tasteless, colorless, and powerful. Yunjin's smile froze. Her glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the marble floor. Sakura's legs buckled. Chaewon grabbed the table, knocking over flowers. Kazuha collapsed gracefully onto a plush sofa. Eunchae whimpered, reaching for her unnies as her vision swam.
The men locked the door. Cameras and phones came out, red recording lights blinking in the dim room. The masks of friendly obsession fell away, revealing the raw, gluttonous hunger beneath.
"The show's not over, girls," the tallest one said, grabbing Eunchae by her hair and dragging her across the floor. "Now the real fucking PUREFLOW begins."
Chaewon was the first to feel the full weight of their savagery. She was dragged over a man's lap, her jeans ripped down to her ankles. Her bare ass was exposed, pale and trembling in the cold air.
"The leader needs discipline," the man growled, raising his hand.
The first slap echoed through the room like a gunshot. Chaewon screamed. Red palm prints bloomed across her white skin. He spanked her over and over, his heavy palm ringing against her buttocks, turning them raw and crimson. She begged, but he didn't stop. When her ass was throbbing and bruised, he forced two thick fingers into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as he hooked his digits into her cheek, pulling her jaw open. Drool dripped down her chin.
"You're going to take my cock like the good leader you are."
He threw her onto the floor, flipping her onto her back. Her legs were forced wide open. He knelt between them, his massive cock pressing against her tight, completely dry hole.
"No… please… it hurts…" she sobbed.
He didn't listen. He shoved his entire length into her in one brutal, tearing stroke. Chaewon's scream was a raw, agonized shriek that filled the room. Screaming. Her body arched violently, her breasts bouncing with each deep, punishing thrust. He fucked her hard, his balls slapping against her reddened ass. She cried uncontrollably, tears mixing with the mascara smeared across her face.
Her body betrayed her. An unwanted orgasm wracked her, making her legs kick and shake uncontrollably. She climaxed on his cock, her pussy dripping onto the floor while he continued to pound her ass without mercy.
Sakura was thrown onto a makeup couch, her face shoved into the cushions. Her stage outfit was torn away, revealing her smooth, pale skin. A man knelt behind her, running his rough hands over her round, perfect ass.
"The face of the group. Let's see how tight that Japanese ass really is."
He spanked her hard, his heavy palm ringing against her buttocks. She yelped, her body jolting with each blow. He grabbed her hips, pressing his erection against her tight entrance. He pushed in without warning. The pain was searing, her ring of muscle tearing as he forced his way inside. She bit into the cushion, muffling her agony.
The man leaned over her, wrapping his thick hand around her throat. He squeezed, cutting off the air to her windpipe.
"Look at me when I fuck you," he hissed.
He turned her head, forcing her terrified eyes to meet his as he choked her and rammed his cock into her ass over and over, bottoming out in her guts. Her vision blurred. Her struggles weakened. Her body went limp in his grip, her eyes rolling back as she slipped into blissful darkness.
He didn't stop.
He pulled her up by the waist, lifting her dead weight off the couch. He fucked her while carrying her around the room, bouncing her limp body on his rigid shaft. Her head lolled back, mouth wide open, as he used her unconscious form like a lifeless fucktoy. He grunted, unloading his thick cum deep inside her ruined ass before dropping her onto the floor.
Yunjin was a fighter. When the drugs hit, she was the last to fall, and the men had to drag her down. She bit one of them, drawing blood. They beat her for it, slapping her face until her lip split and she tasted copper. Her stage outfit was ripped to shreds.
A camera was shoved directly into her face. "Smile for the fans, Yunjin! You're a star!" The red light blinked, capturing every tear, every bruise.
A man pushed her to her knees. He grabbed her breasts, pinching her nipples until she shrieked. He leaned down, licking the sweat and tears from her neck. Then he bit her shoulder, hard, sinking his teeth into her flesh until purple marks bloomed on her skin.
"You taste so good," he muttered, nibbling on her earlobe.
Another man grabbed her arms, wrenching them back behind her shoulders in a brutal full nelson. He forced her body forward. The first man knelt in front of her, shoving his thick cock into her mouth, fucking her throat until she gagged and choked on his length.
The man behind her spread her ass cheeks, pressing his cock against her tight hole. She tried to scream around the dick in her throat.
He speared her. His long, thick shaft stretched her rectum wide, splitting her open.
Her legs shook violently. Spit and drool dripped from her chin. The camera zoomed in on her face—the utter humiliation, the pain. An unwanted orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clenching around nothing while her ass was brutally filled. She sobbed uncontrollably. They kept her in that full nelson, passing her between them, fucking her ass while the camera never stopped rolling.
Kazuha was bent into a mating press, her graceful ballerina legs forced back to her shoulders, her ass completely exposed and vulnerable.
"Such flexibility. It would be a waste not to use it."
A man leaned over her, biting her nipples, sucking them roughly. She was crying, her elegant voice reduced to desperate, broken pleas.
"Please… I'm begging you… I'll do anything…"
The man pressing her down ignored her. He slid his cock inside her ass. The pain was blinding, absolute. She felt like she was being split in half, her tight channel torn open. He didn't care. He fucked her with long, deep, powerful strokes, his full weight crushing her into the mat.
An unwanted orgasm shuddered through her violated body. Her legs shook, bound by his weight. He grunted, pumping his thick sperm deep into her sphincter, filling her completely before pulling out and watching his cum drip from her gaping hole.
Eunchae, the youngest, was saved for last. They gathered around her, a circle of hungry predators. She was curled up on the floor, crying, begging for her mother.
"Don't worry, maknae. We'll make you feel good."
They laid her on a dressing table, pinning her down. One man shoved three fingers into her tight, untouched asshole without warning. She screamed, a high-pitched, terrified sound that tore through the room.
"So tight! She's a real virgin back here!"
He stretched her roughly, fingering her while another man shoved his cock into her mouth, muffling her cries.
When they judged her loose enough, a man grabbed her arms, wrenching them behind her back in a brutal full nelson. He lifted her slightly, positioning himself. She was crying, sobbing uncontrollably.
"No, no, no, please… it hurts…"
He pushed. Her body arched, her back bowing as his thick cock invaded her rear passage, splitting her young, untouched hole open. The pain was too immense, too overwhelming. Her eyes rolled back, her body going slack as she passed out in his arms.
"She fainted. Perfect. Fuck the doll."
The men took turns on her unconscious body, using her as a lifeless vessel for their lust. They rolled her limp form over, pulling her legs apart, and fucked her ass while she was completely out. They pulled out, cumming on her face, her breasts, her ruined cunt. Others took her dead weight, pounding her raw ass until her legs shook in involuntary spasms.
The aftermath was a tableau of broken idols. Cum dripped from their violated asses onto the expensive carpet. The cameras stopped recording. The men zipped up their pants, exchanging phone files with satisfied grins.
"The best VIP package ever."
On the floor, Yunjin's legs were still shaking from another forced climax. Chaewon was curled in a fetal position, whimpering softly. Sakura lay sprawled unconscious across the arm of the couch, her asshole gaping and leaking. Kazuha was face-down, her body bruised and used. Eunchae was being wiped down with a towel by one of the men, her young body ravaged completely, her mind lost somewhere in the darkness.
The PUREFLOW tour merchandise glowed softly over the carnage. The fans left, their phones full of memories, leaving the five members of LE SSERAFIM broken and bleeding on the floor, their bodies destroyed by the brutal anal gangbang they never consented to.
I lock onto her the second she steps off the escalator. That stupid “I ♥ HOME” hoodie—like she’s advertising how fucking naive she is. The ponytail bounces with every step, that doll hair tie mocking me, begging to be yanked. I blend into the crowd, keeping just enough distance. She stops at a kiosk selling phone charms, fingers tracing over cheap plastic. I’m already hard.
She moves deeper into the mall, past a food court where the smell of grease makes my stomach churn. I watch her from behind a pillar as she checks her phone, oblivious. The fabric of those striped shorts hugs her ass just right. My cock twitches. Soon.
She takes a detour toward the less crowded wing—the one with the overpriced furniture store and the hallway to employee-only areas. Stupid girl. Doesn’t she know malls are built like traps? Dead ends everywhere. I quicken my pace, closing the gap.
“Excuse me.” My voice is calm, friendly. She turns, a polite smile already forming. “I think you dropped this?” I hold out a dummy earring I palmed earlier.
Her brow furrows. “Oh, I don’t think that’s mine… but thanks.” She’s too trusting. I step closer, into her space.
“Are you sure? Bang Jeemin?” I let her name slide off my tongue like candy. Her eyes widen.
“How do you know my name?”
My hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist. “I know everything about you, baby. Every post. Every photo. Every place you like to shop.” I twist her arm behind her back and shove her toward the employee hallway. The door swings shut behind us.
She struggles, but I’m bigger. I slam her against the concrete wall, my forearm across her throat. “Scream and I’ll break your jaw. Nod if you understand.” She nods, tears welling.
I shove my hand under her hoodie, pinching her nipple through her bra. She gasps, and I squeeze harder. “Been dreaming about these tits. Fucking perfect.” I pull her bra down, exposing her. I lean in and bite her nipple—hard. She whimpers.
“Shh, shh. You love this. You just don’t know it yet.” My fingers slide down, hiking her shorts up. I shove my hand inside her panties. She’s already wet. Traitor body. I push two fingers into her pussy without warning. Her back arches, a choked sob escaping.
“That’s it. Take it.” I pump into her, my thumb circling her clit. Her legs start shaking. I add a third finger, stretching her. “Gonna cum for me? Yeah, you are.” She convulses, first orgasm ripping through her. I don’t stop. I pull out and shove those same fingers into her mouth. She gags.
“Taste yourself.” I hold her jaw, forcing her to suck. Then I yank her shorts down fully, spin her around, and bend her over my knee. My palm comes down on her bare ass—crack. A red handprint blooms. Crack, crack. She’s sobbing now, but I don’t care. My fingers find her asshole, pushing in dry. She screams into her own hand.
I pull her up and throw her onto a stacked display of cardboard boxes. She lands on her back. I’m on her in seconds, ripping my jeans open. My cock springs out, thick and leaking. I line up with her cunt and slam in. No foreplay. No mercy.
Her mouth opens in a silent scream. I grab her throat and squeeze. “Look at me. Look at who’s fucking you.” Her vision blurs. I thrust harder, deeper, the sound of wet skin filling the hallway. I wrap her legs over my shoulders—missionary. Then I lift her, still inside her, carrying her as I walk. She bobs on my cock with every step, half-conscious.
I lower her onto a loading dock bench, flipping her onto her stomach. Full nelson—I hook my arms under hers, locking behind her head, fucking up into her from below. Her legs dangle, shaking violently. I shift again, lifting her legs up by her ankles—piledriver. Her ass is in the air, her head on the floor. Gravity forces me deeper. She gurgles.
Second orgasm hits her, then third—I feel her clench and pulse around me. Her eyes roll back. I don’t stop. I slap her face. “Stay with me. You’re gonna take every drop.”
I pound into her until I feel my own release building. I pull out just long enough to shove my fingers back into her pussy, then inside her ass, then back to her pussy—multitasking her holes. She’s a mess. Drool, tears, cum leaking out of her.
I flip her onto her back one last time, mount her, and fuck her raw until I’m spilling deep inside her. “Breed you. Fucking breed you full.” I press my weight down, my hand back on her throat. I squeeze until her struggling stops, until she goes limp.
I check her pulse. Still there. Good.
I pull a heavy-duty body bag from my backpack—I came prepared. I roll her inside, zip it up to her neck. Her head lolls, unconscious. I drag her out the service exit, into the parking garage.
But I’m not done. Not yet. I want her seen.
I drive her to the rooftop of a nearby abandoned building. I set up a chair, tie her to it, hogtied—wrists bound to ankles behind her back. Her hoodie is pulled up, shorts gone. Just her bra and panties, torn. I position her facing the skyline. A display.
I take photos. Then I wait for her to wake up.
I watch her eyelids flutter. The drug is wearing off, but she's still groggy, still trying to piece together what happened. Her wrists strain against the zip ties binding her ankles to her wrists behind the chair. The position forces her chest forward, her tits spilling out of the torn bra. A strand of drool hangs from her lips.
I step into her line of sight. Her eyes focus, then widen with horror. She tries to scream, but her throat is raw—only a raspy croak comes out.
"Welcome back, baby girl."
I circle behind her. My hand grabs her ponytail, yanking her head back. I press my cock against her cheek, slapping it across her face. "You missed the first round. But don't worry. I saved the best for last."
I walk to the front of the chair, grab her jaw, and force my cock past her lips. She gags instantly, tears streaming. I don't slow down. I fuck her throat, her nose pressed against my pelvis, her muffled chokes filling the empty rooftop. I hold her there until she starts turning blue, then pull out just enough for her to gasp air before shoving back in.
"No swallowing," I growl, pulling out fully. I stroke myself over her face, painting her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes with ropes of cum. She sputters, some of it dripping into her mouth anyway.
I wipe my cock on her hair and walk away. Leave her there, blind and sticky, for ten minutes. The sun is setting. The city lights flicker on below us. No one can see us up here. No one hears her pathetic whimpers.
I come back with a length of rope. I cut the zip ties and force her onto her hands and knees on the gravel roof. The sharp stones dig into her palms. I tie her wrists together, then loop the rope around her ankles, pulling them back until her feet are bound to her wrists—arched back, her cunt exposed to the sky.
I kneel behind her and spread her ass cheeks. I spit on her asshole, then shove my thumb in without warning. She screams, full-throated this time. I work my thumb in and out, then add a second finger, stretching her. Her whole body trembles.
"Never had anything in here, have you? Fucking tight." I pull my fingers out and replace them with my cock. I press the head against her asshole and push. She screams again, her body trying to buck away, but the ropes hold her in place. I force my way in inch by inch, feeling her sphincter fight me, then give.
"Fuck, yes." I grab her hips and start fucking her ass. Slow at first, then faster, harder. The sound of my pelvis slapping against her is obscene. She's crying, drooling onto the gravel. I reach around and find her clit, rubbing rough circles while I pound into her ass.
Her legs start shaking. That traitor body of hers responding again. "Yeah, cum on my cock. Cum from getting your asshole destroyed." She does—a violent, shuddering orgasm that makes her go limp. I keep fucking her through it.
I pull out and flip her onto her back. She's barely conscious. I lift her legs onto my shoulders and line up with her pussy, still slick with my cum from earlier. I slam in. She gags, a broken sound. I grab her throat with both hands this time and squeeze.
"What's my name?" I hiss.
She can't answer. Her eyes are rolling back. I squeeze harder, feeling her windpipe compress under my thumbs. Her hands flutter weakly against my wrists. I fuck her faster, deeper, wilder—her body convulsing beneath me. I release her throat just long enough for a breath, then clamp down again.
I feel her pussy clamp around me—unconscious orgasm. Her body keeps milking me even as she slips away. I roar and empty myself into her, pumping load after load deep into her womb.
I fall forward, catching myself on my elbows, breathing hard. She's out cold. Again.
I sit back and look at her. Bruises forming on her neck. Cum leaking out of both holes. Her doll hair tie still intact, the plastic doll face smiling up at the sky.
I pull her body off the chair and drag her to the edge of the rooftop. Below, the parking lot of a convenience store. I can see people walking in and out.
I pull out my phone and dial 911, muffling my voice with my hand.
"Some girl on the rooftop of the old Meridian Building. Looks like she's been attacked. Hurry."
I hang up. I won't be here when they arrive. But I'll be watching from the crowd. I always do.
I drag her back from the edge, just enough so she'll be found but not seen from the street. I untie her wrists, leave her spread-eagled on the gravel, naked, cum-covered, unconscious.
I take one last picture of her lying in the sunset. Then I disappear down the fire escape.
The beach was empty now. The PD had called wrap an hour ago, and the rest of the crew had packed up the lighting rigs and monitors, loading everything into the vans. I'd volunteered to do a final sweep of the location, making sure nothing was left behind. A stupid excuse, but nobody questioned it.
She was still there.
Enami Asa sat on a fallen palm log near the waterline, scrolling through her phone. Her white cropped blouse was loose on one shoulder, the lace trim brushing against her collarbone. Her cutoff shorts rode high on her thighs, and I could see the curve of her hip where the side tie of her top hung undone. Red sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. Pearl earrings. Layered chokers that clung to her slender throat. And that navel piercing—a tiny silver barbell catching the last orange glow of sunset.
"Hey," I called out, my voice casual. "You need a ride back?"
She looked up, smiled. "Oh, I was just waiting for my manager. He said he'd be here soon."
"They already left," I said, stepping closer. "I think they assumed you went with the others."
Her eyes widened slightly. "What? No, I told them I'd be right behind—"
"They're gone." I was right in front of her now, close enough to smell her perfume. Something floral and sweet. "I can take you back to the hotel. My car's just over the dune."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, thank you. Let me just grab my bag."
I watched her bend over to pick up a small tote, the shorts tightening across her ass. My cock was already hardening in my jeans. She straightened up, and I reached out, my hand landing on her shoulder.
"Let me help you."
Before she could react, I slid my hand down her arm, fingers brushing against her breast through the thin fabric. She flinched, stepping back.
"What are you—"
I grabbed her wrist, yanked her against me. My other hand went straight to her shorts, palm pressing against the crotch. The denim was soft, worn. I could feel the heat of her pussy through it.
"Don't move," I whispered. "Don't make a sound."
"Let go of me!" She tried to pull away, but I was bigger, stronger. I pushed her backward until her spine hit the palm log. Then I forced her down onto it, face-first. Her shorts were tight, but I worked my hand inside the waistband, fingers sliding down over her smooth mound. She was shaved—completely bare. I found her slit, pressed two fingers against it.
"Please, stop—" Her voice cracked.
I ignored her. I rubbed her pussy with my palm, grinding my fingers against her clit. Her body trembled, hips jerking involuntarily. I kept rubbing, feeling the slick heat start to build.
"No," she whimpered. "No, no, no—"
I pulled my hand out of her shorts, grabbed her by the hair, and flipped her over onto her back. She stared up at me, eyes wide with terror. Red sunglasses fell off her head. I pinned her down by the shoulders, my weight holding her in place. Then I slipped my hand back into her shorts, this time thrusting two fingers inside her cunt.
She gasped, back arching. Her pussy was tight, hot, wet despite the fear. I curled my fingers, pressing upward inside her. She cried out, trying to close her legs, but I forced them apart with my knee.
"You like that, don't you?" I rasped. "Your body does."
"Fuck you—" She swung a hand at my face. I caught it, twisted her arm, and flipped her onto her stomach again. She was prone now, face pressed into the sand. I yanked her shorts down to her knees. Her bare ass was pale in the fading light. I kicked her legs apart, positioned myself behind her, and drove my cock into her pussy in one brutal thrust.
She screamed. A raw, animal sound that cut through the beach quiet. I didn't care. I grabbed her hips and started fucking her, fast and hard. Prone bone—her face in the sand, ass up, my body covering hers. I reached under her to pinch her nipples through the blouse. She sobbed, tried to crawl forward, but I held her down by the back of her neck.
"Please—please don't—"
I kept thrusting. Deep, punishing strokes that made her entire body shake. Her legs started trembling. I could feel her pussy clenching around my cock, trying to reject me, but I just fucked her harder. Minutes passed. She went limp, sobbing into the sand. I came inside her, a hot pulse of cum flooding her cunt, then pulled out.
She lay there, barely breathing.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket, switched on the camera, and filmed her—shorts around her knees, blouse torn, sand stuck to her tear-streaked face. Then I noticed the clear body bag in the back of my car. It was meant for equipment, but it would work perfectly.
I dragged her up, shoved her limp body into the translucent plastic. She was dazed, barely conscious. I zipped it up to her chin. Her face was visible through the material, eyes half-closed, mouth open. She was still alive, but barely aware.
I hoisted her over my shoulder—the body bag crinkling—and started walking along the beach. People were still around, a few couples in the distance. Nobody paid attention to a staff member carrying a large clear bag. They probably thought it was beach cleanup gear. I walked past a group of teenagers, and one of them pointed, laughed. I waved casually.
Her face pressed against the plastic, tears still leaking from her closed eyes.
I found a secluded spot behind a rock formation, near the water. I set the bag down, unzipped it, and pulled her out. She was naked now—shorts and panties gone from the struggle. Her blouse was torn open, breasts exposed. I laid her on the sand, spread her legs, and started filming again with one hand while fingering her pussy with the other. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed.
"Mmm... wha—" She tried to lift her head. I shoved two fingers into her mouth. She gagged, drool running down her chin.
"Look at the camera," I said. "Show them how you take it."
I pulled my fingers out of her mouth and shoved them back into her cunt. Then into her ass. She whimpered, too weak to fight. I fingered all three holes in turn, filming every moment. Her legs shook. Her pussy was dripping with my cum and her own arousal. I pushed three fingers into her pussy, stretching her, and she cried out—a broken, high-pitched moan.
Then I wrapped my hand around her throat.
Her eyes went wide. I squeezed, cutting off her air. Her hands clawed at my arm, but I held firm. Her face turned red, then purple. Her legs kicked, spasming. I held for ten seconds, twenty, until her struggles faded and her eyes rolled back. She went unconscious.
I let go. She lay still.
I climbed over her, positioning my cock at her entrance. Then I dropped my full weight onto her—mating press. Her legs folded up, knees near her ears. I thrust into her cunt in one deep stroke, and her body jerked even in unconsciousness. I fucked her like that, grinding my hips against hers, my chest pressing her breasts flat. When she didn't respond, I slapped her face. Hard. Her head snapped to the side. I slapped again. She moaned, starting to come back.
"Wake up," I growled. "You don't get to pass out."
I flipped her over, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her arms back—full nelson. Her face was in the sand again, but now my arms were locked behind her head, forcing her chest up. I drove into her from behind, my cock sliding into her cunt again. She screamed into the sand. I kept fucking her, then pulled out and shoved my cock into her ass. She shrieked, a long, agonized sound.
"Please—no—not there—"
I fucked her ass, deep and slow, watching the stretch. Then I pulled out, lifted her up—carry sex. My arms under her knees, her back against my chest, her legs spread open. I bounced her on my cock as I walked along the shoreline. Her head lolled, tears and drool mixing on her chin. Her breasts bounced with every step. I fucked her while walking, the water lapping at our feet.
Then I turned her around, facing me, and lifted her—standing sex. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her back against a palm tree. I thrust upward into her cunt, her body bouncing against the bark. She sobbed, fingers digging into my shoulders. Her pussy convulsed around me. She came—a weak, shuddering orgasm. Then another. Her legs shook uncontrollably.
I set her down, bent her over a rock—piledriver. Her hips high, her shoulders on the ground, her legs pointing up. I stood over her, my cock angled down into her pussy from above. I fucked her like that, deep, gravity-assisted thrusts that made her scream. Slapped her ass. Spanked her until her cheeks were red. Bit her inner thigh. Nibbled her labia. She cried, moaned, begged.
I pulled out, dragged her onto my lap—bent over lap, ass up. I spanked her again, then fingered her asshole while I slapped her cunt. She writhed, crying. I pushed my cock into her mouth. She gagged, unable to breathe. I held her head down, suffocating her on my cock. Her throat convulsed. I came again, shooting cum down her throat. She swallowed, choked, swallowed more.
I pushed her off, flipped her onto her back one last time. Her pussy was gaping, red, coated with cum. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. I mounted her again—mating press—and fucked her with deep, brutal thrusts. Her legs kicked, toes curling. She screamed, a raw, ragged sound. Her body convulsed in orgasm after orgasm. I grabbed her throat again, squeezed until her vision blurred.
"Breed you," I hissed. "Fill you up."
I came inside her pussy for a second time, pumping cum deep into her womb. Then I collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.
She was still. The beach was quiet. The camera was still recording.
I got up, zipped her back into the body bag, and carried her to my car.
The morning sun filtered through the studio blinds, casting long shadows across the white backdrop. I set up my lighting equipment, checking each strobe with practiced efficiency. The ADAR 19' Summer Collection shoot was scheduled for ten, and I had everything prepared—including the special "refreshments" I'd laced with a fast-acting sedative in the cooler.
They arrived together, all five of them, laughing and chatting in their vibrant athletic wear. Yeji led the group, her loose black crop top riding up as she adjusted the yellow dry bag on her shoulder. Her red leggings hugged every curve of her hips and thighs. Yuna bounced beside her, that bright orange shirt barely covering her midriff, black leggings tight enough to see the outline of her pussy lips. Lia hung back, gray shirt loose but her mint leggings painted on like a second skin. Ryujin's white crop top showed off her toned stomach, magenta leggings emphasizing her muscular thighs. Chaeryeong's fuchsia shirt contrasted perfectly with her black leggings.
"Good morning, ladies," I said, my voice warm and professional. "Water and electrolyte drinks are in the cooler. Help yourselves while I finish setting up."
They did exactly as I hoped. Within fifteen minutes, all five had drank from the bottles I'd prepared. The sedative would take effect in about thirty—fast-acting, disorienting, leaving them conscious but helpless, unable to move or scream properly. I'd used it before.
The first signs appeared during the initial shots. Yeji stumbled slightly while posing against the white wall. "I feel dizzy," she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"Maybe you should sit down," I suggested, guiding her to a folding chair. Her legs gave out before she reached it, and I caught her, my hands gripping her waist. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. "It's okay," I whispered in her ear. "Just relax."
Behind me, Yuna had collapsed onto a prop couch, her head lolling to the side. Lia was leaning against the backdrop, sliding down slowly. Ryujin tried to reach for her phone but her fingers wouldn't cooperate. Chaeryeong was already unconscious on the floor.
I locked the studio door.
Yeji was the most alert, still fighting the drug. I dragged her to the center of the room, laying her on the padded floor where we'd been shooting. Her eyes were wide, terrified, but her body wouldn't obey her commands. She could only watch as I knelt beside her.
"Please," she whispered, the word slurred. "Don't..."
I ignored her. My hands found her waist, sliding up under her crop top. Her skin was warm, smooth. I pushed the shirt up, exposing her breasts. She wore no bra—the fabric of the crop top had been enough for the shoot. Her nipples were already hard, but not from arousal. From fear.
I pinched them, rolling the stiff peaks between my fingers. A whimper escaped her lips. "Such perfect tits," I muttered, leaning down to suck one into my mouth. I bit down gently at first, then harder, until she cried out—a weak, pathetic sound that barely reached the ceiling.
My other hand slid down her stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of her red leggings. They were high-waisted, tight, but I ripped them open with a single strong pull. The fabric tore from crotch to hip, exposing her black thong. I tore that too, revealing her bare pussy. She was shaved, clean, the lips slightly parted.
"Look at that," I said, pressing two fingers against her slit. She was dry, but I didn't care. I pushed inside, feeling the tight resistance of her virgin-tight cunt. She screamed, a raw, broken sound that turned into sobbing. "Shut up," I growled, shoving my fingers deeper. Three fingers now, stretching her. She bucked helplessly, tears streaming down her face.
I pulled my fingers out, wet with her blood from the tearing, and brought them to her mouth. "Suck," I commanded. She refused, turning her head away. I grabbed her jaw, forcing it open, and shoved my fingers into her mouth. She gagged as I tasted her own blood and juices on her tongue. "You will fucking take it."
Yuna was next. I left Yeji sprawled on the floor, cum dripping from her gaping hole, and moved to the couch. Yuna was half-conscious, moaning softly. I stripped off her orange shirt, revealing her small, firm breasts. Her black leggings came off easily—I simply pulled them down, along with her pink lace underwear.
I positioned her on her stomach, lifting her hips into the air. Her ass was perfect, round and tight. I spread her cheeks, exposing her pink asshole. "You like that, don't you?" I said, spitting on my index finger and pressing it against her anus. She whimpered as I pushed in, one knuckle, two, then the whole finger. Her sphincter clenched around me. "Tight little ass."
I worked a second finger in, scissoring them to stretch her out. She was crying now, tears soaking the couch cushion. "Please... please stop..." Her voice was barely a whisper.
I pulled my fingers out and replaced them with the tip of my cock. I had already freed it from my jeans—thick, hard, veined. I pressed against her asshole, and she screamed as I pushed in. The head popped past the ring of muscle, and she screamed louder, her body convulsing. I forced myself deeper, inch by inch, until I was buried to the hilt in her rectum. Her sobs filled the room.
I fucked her ass slow at first, then faster, harder, my balls slapping against her pussy. I reached around and grabbed her tits, twisting her nipples viciously. She screamed into the cushion. I came deep inside her, my cum flooding her bowels, then pulled out and watched some of it leak from her stretched hole.
Lia had managed to crawl toward the door. I grabbed her ankle and dragged her back, her mint leggings scraping against the floor. She was crying, begging, her hands reaching for the door that was meters away. I flipped her onto her back, ripped her leggings and underwear off in one motion, and spread her legs wide.
"Please, I'll do anything, just let me go—"
"You'll do anything anyway," I said, positioning myself between her thighs. Her pussy was wet—from fear, from the drug, I didn't care. I slammed into her in one thrust, no warning, no preparation. Her back arched, a guttural scream tearing from her throat.
I fucked her missionary style, my hands around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her vision go dark at the edges. She clawed at my wrists, but her strength was gone. I throttled her, releasing just before she blacked out, then squeezing again. Her moans turned to gurgles. I came inside her, then pulled out and slapped her face, hard, leaving a red mark across her cheek.
Ryujin was fighting back. She'd managed to push herself to her knees, her body trembling. I approached her, and she swung a weak punch that I caught easily. "Bitch," I snarled, twisting her arm behind her back. I forced her onto her stomach, then climbed onto her, straddling her thighs. I pulled her white crop top over her head, using it to tie her hands behind her back with the sleeves.
Her magenta leggings were tight, but I had scissors. I cut them off her, slicing through the fabric from ankle to waist, then tore her panties away. She was sobbing, cursing me, her body shaking with rage and fear.
I spread her legs and entered her from behind, prone bone position. My chest pressed against her back, my mouth at her ear. "You're going to take every inch," I hissed, thrusting deep. She screamed into the floor, her fists clenched. I bit her shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and licked the wound. Her cries were muffled by the carpet.
I fucked her for what felt like hours, pounding into her cunt until she was raw, then pulling out and shoving my cock into her mouth. She gagged, choked, but I held her head down, forcing her to take it. I came on her face, painting her cheeks and lips with cum.
Chaeryeong was still unconscious. Good. I wanted her last.
I dragged her to the center of the room, laying her next to Yeji, who was barely conscious, legs still shaking from the multiple orgasms I'd forced on her. Chaeryeong's fuchsia shirt was bright against her pale skin. I stripped it off, then her black leggings, then her white thong. She was beautiful, completely vulnerable.
I took out the anal beads from my bag—a string of ten silicone beads, each larger than the last. I lubed them up and pressed the first against her asshole. She stirred, moaning, as I pushed it in. One by one, I fed the beads into her rectum, watching her unconscious body twitch and react. When all ten were inside, I pulled them out slowly, watching her hole clench and release.
Then I took out the dildo—a massive, veined silicone cock, nearly twelve inches. I lubed that too, and pressed it against her pussy. She whimpered as I pushed it in, her cunt stretching to accommodate the fake cock. I fucked her with it, slow at first, then harder, until she started to wake, her eyes fluttering open, a scream caught in her throat.
"Good morning," I said, still working the dildo in and out. "You've missed a lot."
She tried to push me away, but her arms were like noodles. I grabbed her throat with one hand, squeezing, while the other continued to fuck her with the dildo. Her oxygen cut off, she bucked and twitched, then went limp again. I didn't stop. I used the dildo until she came—an unconscious orgasm, her body shaking against her will.
Now for the real fun.
I stacked them. One on top of another, like a pile of helpless flesh. Yeji on the bottom, then Lia, then Ryujin, then Yuna, then Chaeryeong on top. Their legs were spread, their holes exposed. I took photos—hundreds of photos. Close-ups of their faces, their tears, their gaping cunts and asses, the cum dripping from their bodies. Each flash illuminated their humiliation.
"These are going to be very popular," I said, holding up the camera. "Imagine your fans seeing these. Imagine your parents. Your boyfriends. You'll do whatever I say, won't you?"
They cried, begged, promised anything.
I wasn't done.
I grabbed Yeji, pulling her off the pile. Her legs were shaking so badly she couldn't stand, so I lifted her—carry sex style, her legs wrapped around my waist, my cock inside her as I held her up. I fucked her while walking around the studio, each step driving me deeper into her. She clung to me, sobbing into my shoulder, her nails digging into my back. I bit her neck, sucked bruises into her skin, and came inside her again.
Then I put her on her knees and took the belt from my pants. I wrapped it around her throat, pulling tight. "Suck my cock," I ordered. She couldn't breathe, but she opened her mouth, and I shoved my dick down her throat. I fucked her face, strangling her with the belt, until she went limp. I let go, and she gasped, coughed, vomited on the floor.
I bent Lia over my lap, her bare ass in the air. I spanked her—hard, relentless slaps that turned her pale skin bright red. She screamed with every blow, her legs kicking. I grabbed her thighs and spread them, spanking her pussy too, making her cunt clench and spasm. Then I bit her ass cheeks, nibbled the skin, left teeth marks.
I fucked her after that, piledriver position—her legs over my shoulders, her body folded almost in half, my cock driving straight down into her womb. She came, and came again, her eyes rolling back, her screams turning to hoarse whimpers.
Ryujin got the full nelson. I locked my arms around hers, pulling them behind her head, and fucked her standing up, her body bent forward, my cock ramming into her from behind. Her legs shook, buckled, but I held her up, my weight driving her down onto my shaft. I came deep, then released her, and she collapsed in a heap.
Yuna got the standing sex treatment against the wall. I pinned her there, her legs spread, my cock inside her pussy, my hand around her throat. I strangled her slowly, watching her face turn red, her eyes bulge, then released just as she was about to pass out. I did it again, and again, each time pounding her harder, until she lost consciousness for real. I kept fucking her unconscious body until I came.
Chaeryeong was last. I tied her hands with the belt, looped it around her neck, and fucked her prone bone again, but this time with my full weight on her, strangling her slowly with the belt as I fucked. She struggled, clawed at the belt, but I was stronger. I came inside her, then rolled her over and fucked her face until she choked on my cum.
I looked around the studio. Five broken bodies, covered in cum, bruises, blood. The camera had captured everything. I had the leverage I needed—blackmail that would keep them coming back, keep them silent, keep them obedient.
I packed my equipment, unplugged the lights, and left them there, unconscious or barely conscious, on the floor of the photoshoot set.
I’d been watching her for months. Not in some casual, passing way—I mean watching. Learning her habits, her routines, the way she moved through the world like she owned it. Yuqi. The Chinese member of I-DLE. Platinum blonde hair cascading past her shoulders, that sharp jawline, those eyes that could cut glass when she was angry. But tonight, those eyes would be wet and pleading.
The schedule had me driving her back to her solo practice studio after a late recording session. She trusted me. Of course she did. I’d been with the group for two years, always professional, always helpful. That trust was a weapon, and I’d been sharpening it every day.
She climbed into the passenger seat wearing that blue sleeveless bodysuit, the fabric clinging to every curve of her torso. The light-wash denim shorts sat high on her hips, frayed at the edges, showing off her long legs. She smelled like perfume and sweat from the studio, a combination that made my cock harden behind my slacks.
“Thanks for driving me, oppa,” she said, her voice still carrying that slight Chinese accent despite years in Korea. She smiled, casual and bright, completely unaware of what was coming.
I nodded, keeping my voice steady. “No problem. You worked hard today.”
The drive was fifteen minutes of small talk about choreography and vocal runs. She laughed at something I said about the recording engineer’s bad jokes. I memorized the sound of her laugh, knowing I’d hear it turn into something else soon.
When we pulled into the underground parking of her building, she reached for the door handle. I grabbed her wrist.
“Wait.”
She turned, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer with words. I leaned across the center console and crushed my mouth against hers. Her body went rigid for half a second before her hands came up to push at my chest. But I was stronger, bigger. I forced her head back against the headrest, my tongue forcing past her lips. She tasted like the mint gum she’d been chewing. Her muffled protests were sweet against my mouth.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Fear was starting to bloom in those dark eyes.
“Yuqi,” I said, my voice low, “you’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Understand?”
“What—no, stop, I—let me go!” Her voice cracked on the last word.
I slapped her. Open palm across her cheek, hard enough to snap her head to the side. Her hand flew to her face, tears already welling.
“I said understand?”
She nodded, shaking, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
I dragged her out of the car by her arm, her heels scraping against the concrete. The practice studio was on the fourth floor, but I took her to a private room I’d prepared—a storage space I’d cleared out, soundproofed, with a cheap mattress on the floor and a desk against the wall. I’d been planning this for weeks.
She stumbled when I shoved her inside, catching herself on the desk. The door clicked shut behind us, and I locked it.
“Please,” she whispered, turning to face me with wide, wet eyes. “Don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.”
I laughed. “You won’t tell anyone? Sweetheart, you’re not leaving this room until I’m done with you. And then you’ll be too broken to tell anyone.”
I stepped forward and grabbed the front of her bodysuit, bunching the fabric in my fists. She gasped as I yanked her toward me. My other hand found the curve of her ass through her shorts, squeezing hard, digging my fingers into the flesh until she whimpered.
“These shorts,” I said, hooking my thumbs into the waistband. “They’re coming off.”
“No, please—” Her protest died as I spun her around and bent her over the desk. One hand pinned her between her shoulders while the other tore at the denim. The buttons popped, the zipper screamed, and I ripped the shorts down her legs. The fabric inside her panties was soft, pink, thin. I could see the outline of her cunt through the cotton.
“Look at you,” I muttered, dragging a finger along the damp fabric. “Already wet. You’re a slut, aren’t you? Pretending to be innocent.”
“I’m not—ah!” She cried out as I spanked her bare ass, my palm connecting with her right cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. I spanked her again, and again, watching her skin turn pink under my hand. Her legs trembled.
I ripped her panties next. The fabric tore easily, and I pushed the shreds aside to expose her completely. Her pussy was slick, glistening in the dim light. I pushed a finger inside her without warning, and she screamed—not entirely pain, not entirely pleasure. A choked sound of betrayal.
“That’s it,” I said, working my finger in and out. “Get used to it. There’s more coming.”
I added a second finger, stretching her, and used my thumb to rub her clit. Her hips bucked involuntarily, trying to escape and press into my hand at the same time. Her sobs were mixed with small moans now, her body betraying her mind.
“You like that, don’t you?” I leaned over her, my mouth against her ear. “Tell me you like it.”
“I… I hate you…” she gasped.
I laughed and pulled my fingers out, then shoved them into her mouth. She gagged as I pushed past her lips, tasting herself on my skin.
“Suck,” I ordered.
She hesitated, tears streaming, but when I pressed harder she closed her lips around my fingers and sucked. Her tongue moved reluctantly, cleaning her own juices. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
I pulled my fingers out and grabbed her arm, dragging her to the chair against the wall. I sat down and pulled her over my lap, her stomach against my thighs, her ass presented to me. She struggled, but I held her down with one hand on her lower back while the other delivered another round of spanks.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Each hit made her yelp and squirm. Her legs kicked behind her, but I kept her pinned. Her skin was warm under my palm, pink and tender.
“Please, stop,” she begged, her voice muffled against the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for whatever I did…”
“You didn’t do anything,” I said, landing another slap. “This is just what happens to pretty girls who trust the wrong people.”
She cried openly now, hiccuping sobs that racked her body. I kept spanking until her entire ass was a flushed red. Then I reached between her legs from behind, my fingers finding her wet cunt again. I pushed two fingers into her pussy while my thumb pressed against her asshole.
“No—not there—please,” she whimpered.
I ignored her. My thumb pushed into her tight ass, working slowly, feeling her sphincter resist and then give. She cried out, a high-pitched wail that made my cock ache in my pants. I fucked her pussy with my fingers while stretching her asshole with my thumb, alternating between them until she was loose enough.
“You’re taking it so well,” I murmured. “Such a good little idol.”
I pulled my fingers out and flipped her off my lap onto her back on the floor. Before she could scramble away, I was on top of her, pinning her arms above her head with one hand. My other hand ripped the bodysuit down her front, exposing her breasts. They were perfect—full, firm, with dark nipples already hard from fear and arousal.
I lowered my mouth to her chest and bit down on her nipple. She screamed, arching her back, trying to throw me off. I sucked hard, drawing the nipple into my mouth, then bit down again, harder. Her scream turned into a sob.
“Your tits are amazing,” I said, switching to the other one. I licked and bit, leaving teeth marks on her skin. Her body shuddered under me.
I pulled her up by her hair and dragged her across the room to the small bathroom attached to the storage space. She stumbled, naked from the waist down, her bodysuit hanging off her shoulders. I shoved her into the tub—an old claw-foot thing I’d found—and turned on the water. Cold at first, making her gasp, then hot as the temperature adjusted.
“Get in,” I said, pushing her down. She sat in the tub, water rising around her, her platinum hair darkening as it got wet. I stripped off my own clothes, watching her eyes dart away from my cock. It was hard, thick, veins visible.
“Look at it,” I commanded. “You’re going to take it soon. Look at what’s going to ruin you.”
She shook her head, but her eyes flickered to my cock and then away. A tear mixed with the bathwater.
I climbed into the tub, water splashing over the edges. I knelt between her legs, spreading them wide. Her pussy was right there, pink and wet, waiting. I positioned myself and thrust into her without warning.
Her scream echoed off the tile walls. I buried myself to the hilt in one stroke, her tight walls clenching around me. I didn’t give her time to adjust—I started fucking her immediately, hard and fast, the water sloshing around us with every thrust.
“Fuck, Yuqi, you feel so good,” I grunted, gripping her hips. “So tight. Such a perfect little cunt.”
She was crying, moaning, her hands gripping the edges of the tub. Her head fell back, and I watched her throat move as she swallowed her own screams.
I reached down and found her clit, rubbing it in circles while I fucked her. Her moans changed pitch, becoming higher, more broken. Her legs started shaking.
“No—I can’t—I’m gonna—”
“Cum,” I ordered. “Cum on my cock.”
Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her body convulsing, her pussy tightening around me. I kept fucking her through it, drawing out every spasm, watching her face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. Tears and bathwater ran down her cheeks.
I pulled out of her and dragged her out of the tub, water dripping onto the floor. She was weak, barely standing, her legs trembling. I led her to the small balcony that overlooked the empty alley below. The railing was cold metal.
“Bend over,” I said.
She obeyed without argument, her hands gripping the railing, her back arched. Her ass was still red from the spanking, and I could see my cum starting to drip down her thigh. I lined up behind her and pushed into her pussy again, this time from behind. She moaned, a broken sound that made me harder.
I fucked her standing, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto my cock with every thrust. The metal railing rattled with the force of our fucking. Her platinum hair was plastered to her back and shoulders, wet and dark.
I reached around and found her clit again, rubbing as I fucked her. Her body was wrecked, but it still responded. Her moans became rhythmic, matching my pace. She was close again.
“Cum for me again,” I hissed.
She did, a shuddering orgasm that made her knees buckle. I held her upright, kept fucking her, pushed her into a third orgasm that seemed to tear through her. She screamed into the night air.
I pulled out and spun her around, lifting her by her thighs. Her legs wrapped around my waist automatically, her back against the railing. I drove into her again, carrying her weight, fucking her in the air. Her nails dug into my shoulders, drawing blood.
I carried her to the mattress and threw her down. She landed on her stomach, and before she could move, I was on top of her, pushing her legs apart with my knees. Prone bone. My cock slid into her from behind, and I ground against her ass, deep and rough.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Please, no more…”
“One more,” I said. “One more and I’ll be done.”
I fucked her slow and deep, every stroke hitting the deepest part of her. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her legs shook uncontrollably. I leaned forward and bit her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.
She cried out, but it was weaker now, almost resigned. Her body had given up fighting. I kept going, building toward my own release. I grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto her knees, still fucking her from behind, and wrapped my hand around her throat—not choking, just holding. Claiming.
“I’m going to fill you up,” I said. “Every drop. And you’re going to take it.”
Her only response was a choked sob.
I came inside her, my cock pulsing, emptying myself into her cunt. My orgasm seemed to last forever, wave after wave. She whimpered with each spurt.
I stayed inside her for a long moment, catching my breath. Then I pulled out, watching my cum leak out of her onto the mattress. She collapsed onto her stomach, her face buried in the sheets, her body shaking with silent sobs.
I stood up, got dressed, and looked down at her. The blue bodysuit was torn, her shorts in shreds, her hair a tangled mess. Bruises and bite marks covered her skin.
“You’ll go back to the dorm tomorrow,” I said, my voice flat. “You’ll tell everyone you had a rough night and lost your phone. You won’t say a word about this. Because if you do, I’ll make sure the next time is worse. And there will be a next time, Yuqi. There will be many next times.”
She didn’t answer. Just kept crying.
I left her there, broken on the mattress, and locked the door behind me.
The next day at rehearsal, she showed up in long sleeves and high-waisted pants, dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t look at me. When the other members asked if she was okay, she said she hadn’t slept well.
I smiled and handed her a bottle of water.
She took it without meeting my eyes.
Her hand was shaking.
The days after that first night were a careful game. I watched her from a distance, noting every flinch, every avoidance of my gaze. She started wearing longer sleeves, higher collars, and dark circles bloomed under her eyes like bruises. The other members noticed—Soyeon asked if she was sick, Minnie brought her vitamins, Shuhua wrapped her in hugs. Yuqi smiled through all of it, said she was just tired from practice.
But I saw the truth. I saw the way her hands trembled when I walked past. The way her breath caught when I spoke to her directly. The way she started staying later at the studio, alone, as if she could hide from me in the work.
That was a mistake. That was exactly what I wanted.
I gave her a week. A week of silence, of watching, of letting the fear settle into her bones. I knew exactly what she was thinking: Maybe it was a one-time thing. Maybe he’ll stop. Maybe if I pretend it didn’t happen, it will go away.
I let her believe that. It made the next time so much sweeter.
Thursday evening, after the others had gone home, I found her in the practice room. She was alone, stretching on the floor, her body bent into a forward fold. Her leggings were black, tight, hugging the curve of her ass. A loose white tank top hung off her shoulder, revealing the edge of a bruise I’d left—a bite mark that had faded to yellow.
I knocked on the doorframe. She looked up, and her face went pale.
“Yuqi,” I said, my voice calm, friendly. “Can we talk?”
She sat up slowly, hugging her knees to her chest. “I… I’m busy.”
“It’ll only take a minute.” I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. I didn’t lock it. Not yet. That was part of the game. “I wanted to apologize.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“For what I did. It was wrong. I was out of line.” I kept my expression soft, regretful. “I’ve been thinking about it all week. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. I need you to know I’m sorry.”
She stared at me, searching for the lie. But I’d rehearsed this. I’d practiced the tone, the slight crack in my voice, the way I looked at the floor like I was ashamed.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” I continued. “But I wanted to… make it up to you somehow. Let me drive you home tonight. Or buy you dinner. Something to show you I’m not a monster.”
She shook her head slowly, but her lips parted. She was considering it. The hope in her eyes was almost painful to watch—that desperate human need to believe that people can change.
“I don’t want to be alone with you,” she said, but her voice was weak.
“I understand. We can meet somewhere public. Your choice.” I held up my hands, palms open. “I just want to try.”
She bit her lip. A long silence stretched between us. I waited, patient as a spider.
“There’s a café near the Han River,” she said finally. “We could talk there.”
Perfect.
“Tonight?” I asked.
She nodded, still hesitant. “Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” I smiled, warm and grateful, and left without another word.
I arrived at the café early. I ordered a coffee, sat at a table by the window, and watched the river flow under the bridge. In my jacket pocket, I had a small vial of clear liquid—an odorless, tasteless sedative I’d procured from a contact in the underground. Enough to knock her out for several hours without causing permanent damage. I’d also brought a compact camera, small enough to fit in my palm, and a bag of toys: anal beads, a vibrator, a silicone dildo, and a roll of medical tape.
She showed up at eight-fifteen, wearing a oversized hoodie and jeans, her platinum hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked nervous, glancing around the café before spotting me. She sat down across the table, keeping her hands in her lap.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, pushing a cup of tea toward her. “I ordered you a chamomile. Hope that’s okay.”
She looked at the cup, suspicious. “I didn’t see you order it.”
“I asked the barista when I saw you walking up.” I smiled. “It’s sealed. See? Still has the lid on.”
She lifted the lid, sniffed it, then took a tentative sip. The sedative was in the cup—I’d slipped it in while she was walking through the door, pretending to stir my own coffee. She took another sip, then another.
We talked for twenty minutes. I let her vent, let her cry a little, let her tell me how scared she’d been. I nodded along, said all the right things, played the role of the repentant abuser. All the while, I watched her eyelids grow heavy, her words start to slur.
“I think… I think I need to go home,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m really tired all of a sudden.”
“Let me drive you,” I offered.
She shook her head, but her movements were sluggish. “No… I can call a taxi…”
“You can barely stand. Come on, I’ll take you.” I stood up, rounded the table, and helped her to her feet. She leaned against me, her body warm and limp, her head drooping toward my shoulder.
“I don’t feel good,” she mumbled.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”
I led her out of the café, supporting her weight. No one paid attention—just a couple helping their drunk girlfriend. I guided her to my car, buckled her into the passenger seat, and drove not to her dorm, but to the storage room. The same room. The same mattress.
She was unconscious by the time I carried her inside.
I laid her on the mattress, spread her limbs, and taped her wrists and ankles to the rusted bed frame. She stirred once, moaning, but didn’t wake. Her head lolled to the side, her breathing slow and deep.
I set up the camera on a tripod, aiming it at the bed. The red light blinked to life. Then I undressed her slowly, savoring the process. The hoodie came off first, revealing her tank top underneath. The jeans followed, and I peeled off her leggings, leaving her in a pair of black lace panties and a simple bra.
I left those on. For now.
From my bag, I pulled out the anal beads—a string of silicone spheres, graduated in size, attached to a small ring at the end. I lubed them generously, then spread her legs apart. Her pussy was hidden behind the lace, but her asshole was bare. I pushed the first bead against it, watching her face even in unconsciousness. Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t wake.
The first bead slid in easily. The second was tighter. The third made her body twitch. I worked slowly, methodically, inserting each bead until all seven were inside her, the ring resting against her skin. Her ass was stretched around them, a faint quiver in her muscles.
Next, the vibrator. I pulled her panties aside, revealing her cunt—already slick from the stimulation, even in her drugged state. I turned the vibrator on low and pressed it against her clit. Her hips jerked involuntarily. I held it there, watching her body respond without her mind’s consent.
I took the dildo—a realistic one, seven inches, veined—and lubed it as well. Then I replaced the vibrator with the dildo, pushing it slowly into her pussy. She was tight, but wet enough to accept it. I buried it to the hilt, then used medical tape to strap it in place, so it wouldn’t slip out.
Now she was filled from both ends. The anal beads pulsed inside her ass. The dildo stretched her cunt. I turned the vibrator back on and taped it directly to her clit, then turned the speed to medium.
Her body began to move. Even unconscious, she was grinding against the mattress, her hips rolling, her mouth falling open. A soft moan escaped her lips—involuntary, animal, pure instinct.
I watched for ten minutes, filming everything. Her thighs glistened with her own wetness. The dildo moved in and out slightly with each roll of her hips. The anal beads stayed buried, but her sphincter clenched around them rhythmically.
Then I decided it was time to wake her.
I poured a bottle of cold water over her face. She gasped, her eyes flying open, disoriented and terrified. She tried to move, but the tape held her wrists and ankles spread wide.
“What—what did you do?” Her voice was hoarse, panicked. She looked down at herself, saw the dildo strapped between her legs, the vibrator buzzing against her clit, the ring of the anal beads peeking out from her ass. “No, no, no—get them out!”
“You look beautiful like this,” I said, standing over her, already naked, my cock hard. “All filled up. Ready for me.”
“Please, I thought you said you were sorry—I thought you wanted to make it right—”
“I lied.” I climbed onto the mattress, straddling her chest. My cock hovered inches from her face. “I’m not sorry. I’m never going to be sorry. And you’re never going to be free of me, Yuqi. This is your life now.”
Tears streamed down her temples, into her platinum hair. She shook her head, but her body kept betraying her—hips still twitching against the vibrator, her pussy clenching around the dildo.
“You’re already so close,” I observed, glancing at the camera. “Cum for me. Cum on camera.”
“No—I won’t—”
I reached down and turned the vibrator to high. Her entire body arched, a scream tearing from her throat. The orgasm ripped through her, violent and uncontrollable, her legs shaking, her cunt spasming around the dildo. She sobbed through it, her face twisted in humiliation.
“Good girl.” I pulled the vibrator off her clit and removed the dildo. Her pussy gaped slightly, creamy with her release. “Now for the real thing.”
I untaped her ankles but left her wrists bound above her head. Then I folded her in half, lifting her legs over her shoulders, her ass raised in the air. Piledriver position. Her cunt and ass were presented directly above my face, but I didn’t waste time on foreplay.
I gripped her hips and lined my cock up with her pussy—but instead, I pushed against her asshole, where the anal beads still sat. I pulled the ring slowly, drawing the beads out one by one. She whimpered with each sphere that popped free.
“You’re going to take my cock in your ass,” I said. “And you’re going to take it deep.”
“I can’t—it hurts—please, not there—”
I ignored her. The last bead came out with a wet pop, leaving her ass stretched and quivering. I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance and pushed.
She screamed. A raw, broken sound that filled the room. Her ass was tight, even after the beads, and my cock was thick. I forced my way in inch by inch, her sphincter resisting, then surrendering. She cried the whole time, her legs shaking against my shoulders.
When I was fully inside her, I paused, letting her feel the fullness, the invasion. Then I started to fuck her. Slow at first, then faster, pounding into her ass while her body bounced helplessly on the mattress. Her tears soaked the sheets beneath her.
“Look at the camera,” I commanded. “Look at what a good little whore you are.”
She turned her head, her eyes meeting the lens. Her mouth was open, gasping, drool mixed with tears on her chin. I kept fucking her, deeper, harder, until her voice broke and her words turned to incoherent sobbing.
I came in her ass, my cum hot and thick, pumping into her while she shuddered beneath me. I stayed inside her, feeling her clench around me, then pulled out slowly. A stream of white leaked from her abused hole.
I flipped her onto her back, her wrists still taped above her head. I knelt between her spread legs, then leaned forward, pressing her thighs against her chest, my weight crushing her into the mattress. Mating press. My cock lined up with her pussy.
“Look at me,” I said.
She did. Her eyes were glassy, distant, as if she’d retreated somewhere inside herself.
“I said look at me.” I slapped her. Her head snapped to the side, but she looked back. “You’re going to feel this one.”
I drove into her cunt with a single brutal thrust. She gasped, a choked sound, and her hands fisted in the tape. I fucked her with my full weight on her, grinding my hips against hers, my balls slapping against her ass with every stroke. The position let me go impossibly deep, and I could feel her cervix against the head of my cock.
“You’re so tight,” I grunted. “So perfect. This pussy belongs to me now.”
She couldn’t speak. Only small, animal sounds escaped her throat—whimpers, moans, cries. I wrapped my hand around her throat and squeezed.
“Say it. Say ‘my pussy belongs to you.’”
Her airway narrowed. She gasped, her face flushing. “I… can’t…”
I squeezed harder. Her vision blurred at the edges. “Say it.”
“My pussy… belongs… to you…” The words came out strangled, barely audible.
I loosened my grip, letting her breathe, but kept fucking her. Then I tightened again, watching her eyes roll back. I squeezed harder, harder, until her body went limp beneath me.
She was unconscious.
I kept fucking her. Her body was lax, unresponsive, but my cock still slid in and out of her wet cunt. I came inside her again, my release mixing with hers, and only then did I pull out and release her throat.
I untaped her wrists and ankles, then arranged her body on the mattress, positioning her on her side, her legs curled slightly. I wiped the tears and drool from her face, brushed her platinum hair out of her eyes. She looked almost peaceful.
I turned off the camera and packed my toys. Before I left, I wrote a note on the back of a receipt and placed it on her stomach.
“See you tomorrow at rehearsal. Wear something pretty.”
She woke two hours later, alone, sore, and empty. The note was still on her stomach. She read it, and her hands started shaking.
But she showed up to rehearsal the next day.
She wore a skirt.
And she didn’t tell anyone.
The Manager's Account – Final Chapter
The days after that night were different. Yuqi wore a skirt to rehearsal, as I'd instructed, but she moved like a ghost. Her eyes were hollow, her smile mechanical. The other members noticed—how could they not?—but they attributed it to exhaustion, to the pressures of comeback preparations.
I watched her from my usual position, leaning against the studio wall. She caught my gaze once, twice, three times. Each time, she looked away first. Each time, her hands trembled a little more.
The camera memory card sat in my pocket, full of footage I'd watched every night since. Her unconscious body, spread and filled. Her waking terror. Her tears. The way her ass had clenched around my cock. The way her cunt had gripped me in the mating press.
I wanted more.
I wanted the final act.
I waited three days. Three days of letting her believe she'd survived the worst. Three days of watching her almost relax, almost convince herself it was over.
Then I approached her after practice, when the others were gathering their things.
"Yuqi," I said softly, pulling her aside. "I need to talk to you about something important. The company is considering a solo project for you. A digital single."
Her eyes flickered with something—hope? Fear? Both.
"I have the proposal in my office. We can go over it together." I smiled, warm and professional. "This could be big for you."
She hesitated. I saw the war in her eyes—the desperate need to believe this was real, that her career wasn't over, that she could still have a future.
"Can Minnie come with me?" she asked.
"No. This is confidential." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "If you want this opportunity, you come alone. Tonight. Nine o'clock."
I turned and walked away before she could argue.
She showed up at nine-fifteen. I was waiting in my office, the door unlocked, the lights dim. She stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and a oversized sweater, her platinum hair loose around her shoulders. She looked fragile. Breakable.
"Close the door," I said.
She did.
"Sit."
She sat in the chair across from my desk, her hands clasped in her lap. I slid a folder across the desk—filled with blank papers, but she didn't know that.
"Before we discuss this," I said, "I want to apologize again. For everything."
She looked down. "You said that last time."
"I mean it this time. I've been seeing a therapist. I know I have problems." I kept my voice soft, regretful. "I want to get help. I want to be better."
She looked up, and for a moment, I saw it—that flicker of hope again. It made me hard.
"I brought you something," I said, reaching into my drawer. "A peace offering."
I pulled out a small box, wrapped in brown paper. She took it hesitantly, unwrapped it, and found a silver bracelet inside—delicate, with a small charm shaped like a wolf. Her eyes welled with tears.
"I know it's not enough," I said. "But I want to try."
She put the bracelet on. It looked beautiful against her skin.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome. Now—" I stood up, walking around the desk. "Let me get you some water. You look dehydrated."
I handed her a bottle—already opened, already laced with sedative. She drank without suspicion, trusting the gesture, the apology, the bracelet.
Within ten minutes, her eyes were heavy. Within fifteen, she was slumped in the chair, unconscious.
I smiled, picked her up, and carried her to the storage room one last time.
I laid her on the mattress, her limbs limp, her breathing slow and deep. I undressed her carefully, almost tenderly, folding her clothes and setting them aside. She lay naked before me, pale and perfect, the bruise marks from previous sessions faded to yellow and green.
I bound her wrists with rope this time, tying them to the bed frame above her head. Her ankles followed, spread wide, secured to opposite corners of the frame. She was completely exposed. Completely vulnerable.
I set up three cameras—one on a tripod facing the bed, one handheld, one mounted on the wall for a wide shot. I wanted every angle. Every moment. Every detail preserved forever.
From my bag, I pulled out the toys: the anal beads, the vibrator, the dildo. But this time, I had something else—a leather strap, which I wrapped around her throat loosely, not tight enough to constrict, but tight enough to remind her what was coming.
Then I turned on the cameras and waited for her to wake.
She came to slowly, her eyelids fluttering, her mind struggling to surface from the drug-induced fog. When she realized her position—naked, bound, spread—her body went rigid.
"No," she breathed. "No, no, no—"
"Shh," I said, stroking her hair. "It's okay. It's going to be over soon."
"Please—please don't—I'll do anything—I won't tell anyone—please—"
"I know you won't." I smiled down at her. "Because after tonight, you won't be able to."
Her eyes widened with understanding. She started struggling against the ropes, her wrists twisting, her legs kicking. But the knots were tight, and the sedative still dulled her muscles.
"Please—please, I have a family—my parents—the group—"
"You should have thought about that before you trusted me." I picked up the handheld camera, zooming in on her face, capturing the tears streaming down her temples. "Look at the camera. Tell me your name."
"Fuck you."
I slapped her. Hard. Her head snapped to the side, blood welling at the corner of her mouth.
"Tell me your name."
"Yuqi," she sobbed. "Song Yuqi."
"Good girl. Now tell me what you are."
She shook her head, crying. I slapped her again.
"I'm—I'm your slut," she whispered, the words she'd been trained to say. "I'm your whore. I'm your property."
"That's right." I zoomed out, capturing her naked, bound body. "And what do whores deserve?"
She couldn't say it. I didn't expect her to. I set the camera down and picked up the anal beads.
I lubed the beads generously, then pressed the first one against her asshole. She whimpered, her hips trying to twist away, but the ropes held her in place. I pushed it in, then the second, the third, working slowly, deliberately, watching her face contort with each intrusion.
"Seven beads," I said, counting them out loud. "One for each time I've taken you."
"Please stop—"
I pushed the fourth bead in. She cried out.
By the seventh, she was sobbing openly, her ass stretched around the base, the ring resting against her skin. I taped the vibrator to her clit, turned it on low, and watched her body betray her once again—her hips beginning to roll, her pussy growing wet.
"Your body loves this," I said. "Even when your mind hates it. You're a whore down to your cells."
She turned her head away, but I grabbed her chin, forcing her to face the camera.
"Watch. Watch yourself become nothing."
I removed the beads, one by one, each pop of her sphincter making her gasp. Then I lined my cock up with her ass and pushed inside her in a single brutal thrust.
She screamed.
I fucked her ass hard, gripping her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. Her cries filled the room, hoarse and broken, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The power, the control, the utter possession—it was intoxicating.
I came inside her ass, my cum hot and thick, and stayed buried in her as I reached for the dildo.
I pulled out of her ass and flipped her onto her stomach, then lifted her hips into the air, her ass presented to me. I strapped the dildo to a pillow, then positioned it beneath her, pressing it against her pussy.
"Take it," I commanded.
"I can't—"
I shoved her down onto the dildo. It sank into her cunt to the hilt. She screamed into the mattress.
Then I lined my cock up with her ass again and pushed inside her, filling both her holes at once. The sensation was overwhelming—her pussy clenched around silicone, her ass gripped my flesh, and I fucked her with both, alternating thrusts, a rhythm of violation.
She was incoherent now, babbling in Korean, begging, pleading, praying to gods I didn't believe in. I fucked her through it, my balls slapping against the dildo's base, her body rocking forward with each thrust.
I came again, this time in her pussy, pulling the dildo out of her ass and replacing it with my cock, filling her with cum, then switching back, a continuous assault.
I flipped her onto her back, pressed her thighs to her chest, and entered her pussy in the mating press. My weight crushed her into the mattress, my chest against hers, my face inches from her face.
"Look at me," I said.
She did. Her eyes were red, swollen, barely focusing.
"This is the last time," I said. "Do you understand?"
She nodded weakly.
"Good." I started fucking her, slow and deep, each stroke hitting her cervix. She moaned with each thrust, unable to stop her body's response, even now.
Then I wrapped my hand around her throat.
I squeezed gently at first, just enough to restrict her airflow. Her eyes widened, panic flaring.
"Shh," I whispered. "It's okay. Just relax."
I squeezed harder. Her hands clawed at the ropes, her legs kicked against the mattress. Her face turned red, then purple, her eyes bulging.
I kept fucking her.
Her body convulsed beneath me, her pussy clenching around my cock, and I felt her orgasm rip through her—involuntary, desperate, the last pleasure her body would ever know.
I squeezed harder.
Her struggles weakened. Her vision blurred. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out—her vocal cords couldn't vibrate without air.
I came inside her as her eyes rolled back.
Her body went limp.
I held the pressure for another thirty seconds, watching her face, watching the life drain from her eyes. Then I released my grip and pulled out of her.
She didn't move.
I checked her pulse. Nothing.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her lips, cold and still.
"Goodbye, Yuqi."
I untied her limp body, arranged her on the mattress in a peaceful position, her hands folded over her chest. I dressed her carefully—jeans, sweater, the silver bracelet still on her wrist. I cleaned her face, combed her hair, made her look like she was sleeping.
I packed the cameras, the toys, the ropes. I wiped down every surface, removed every trace of my presence. The storage room was clean.
I left her there, alone in the dark.
The next morning, when she didn't show up for practice, the members called her phone. No answer. They called her parents. No one had seen her.
Three days later, a security guard found her body in the storage room. The police ruled it a suicide—she'd left no note, but they found evidence of depression in her search history, her private journal entries. The bracelet on her wrist was engraved with a wolf, which they interpreted as a symbol of loneliness.
The footage is still on my hard drive, encrypted and hidden. I watch it sometimes, on nights when I need to remember the feeling of absolute power.
I still work for the company. I still manage artists. I still smile at the new trainees, offer them rides home, buy them drinks.
You stand there, breathing hard through your nose, looking down at the woman you thought you'd marry.
Minjeong—Winter, the name that used to taste sweet in your mouth—is tied to a chair in the middle of your apartment. Her wrists are bound behind the wooden backrest with zip ties, the plastic biting into that pale, flawless skin she always took such pride in. Her ankles are lashed to the chair legs, spread just wide enough that her little black dress has ridden up her thighs, exposing the lacy edge of something red underneath.
She's crying. Not the pretty kind of crying either—the kind where a single tear traces a perfect line down a porcelain cheek. No, this is ugly crying: mascara streaking, nose running, mouth stretched into a trembling, snotty grimace. Her shoulders shake. Her chest heaves. The little silver necklace you bought her for your one-year anniversary—a dainty thing with a tiny star pendant—glints under the overhead light with every sob.
You feel nothing.
"You can't do this," she chokes out, her voice cracking mid-sentence. "Please. Please, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
You don't answer. Not right away. Instead, you walk over to the kitchen counter, where her phone still sits, screen-up, the evidence glowing like a neon sign. Minho's messages. Your best friend since middle school. The guy who stood next to you at your father's funeral. The guy who helped you move into this apartment.
Can't stop thinking about last night. That thing you did with your tongue… fuck.
When can I see you again? Need to feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock.
You're his girlfriend but you're my slut. Say it.
And she had said it. Right there in the chat log. I'm your slut, Minho.
You read the messages out loud now, your voice flat, almost clinical. Each word lands like a slap. Winter flinches with every syllable, her crying ratcheting up a notch, her bound hands twisting uselessly behind her.
"Stop," she begs. "Please stop reading them."
"A whore doesn't get to make requests," you say, and the word whore drops from your mouth like a stone into still water.
Winter's face crumples. She's always been beautiful—everyone said so. The kind of beautiful that made strangers stop and stare on the street. That heart-shaped face, those full lips, those big brown eyes that could shift from innocent to sultry in half a blink. Her hair is honey-brown, usually silky and styled, but now it's a mess, plastered to her tear-wet cheeks. Her body is the kind men fantasize about: slim but curved, small breasts that sit high and perky, a waist you could span with two hands, hips that flare just enough to make every dress look sinful.
You used to worship that body. You used to kiss every inch of it like it was sacred.
Now you look at it and see a thing to be used.
"You've been fucking him for four months," you say, stepping closer. Four months of lies. Four months of her coming home late, smelling of someone else's cologne. Four months of her brushing off your concerns, telling you you're paranoid, telling you she loves you. Four months of you feeling like you were losing your mind.
Winter sobs harder. "It was a mistake. It didn't mean anything. I love you—"
The slap comes before you even register you've swung.
Your palm connects with her left cheek, the sound cracking through the apartment like a gunshot. Winter's head snaps to the side, her hair whipping across her face, and for a long, suspended moment there's only silence—her crying momentarily stunned into nothing, your own breathing ragged in your ears.
Then she whimpers, a tiny, broken sound, and you watch the red bloom across her cheekbone.
"I told you," you say, crouching down so your face is level with hers. Your voice is low, almost conversational. "A whore doesn't get to speak unless spoken to."
Winter stares at you, her eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed. There's fear there—real fear—and something else too. Something flickering behind the tears. Confusion, maybe. Or the first spark of something she doesn't want to name.
You reach out and take her chin between your thumb and forefinger, gripping hard enough to make her wince. You turn her face toward you, examining the slap mark like it's a piece of art you've just created.
"You're going to listen now," you tell her. "You're going to listen, and you're going to do exactly what I say, and maybe—maybe—by the time I'm done with you, you'll understand what happens to lying little sluts who think they can betray me."
Winter's lower lip trembles. A fresh tear spills over and rolls down to your thumb.
"I'm going to give you what Minho couldn't," you continue, releasing her chin and standing up straight. You look down at her from your full height, watching her shrink under your gaze. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name. I'm going to use every hole in that cheating body of yours until you can't walk straight. And you're going to take it. You're going to take all of it, and you're going to thank me afterward."
"This is crazy," Winter whispers, shaking her head frantically. "You're not like this. You're not—you're a good person—"
"Good person?" You laugh, and the sound is ugly, hollow, nothing like the laugh she used to coax out of you. "A good person who trusted you. A good person who gave you everything. And what did you do with it, Minjeong? What did you do with my trust?"
She has no answer for that. Of course she doesn't.
You reach down and grab the hem of her little black dress—the one she wore on your double date with Mina and Minho, the one she thought made her look innocent—and you pull. Hard. The fabric tears with a harsh ripping sound, and Winter gasps, her body jerking against the restraints. You keep pulling until the dress is a ruined mess around her waist, leaving her top half bare except for a red lace bra.
"Minho buy you this?" you ask, fingers hooking under one of the straps. "Did you wear it for him?"
Winter shakes her head, but the flush spreading down her neck tells a different story.
"Don't lie to me." You snap the strap with one sharp tug, then the other. The bra goes slack, and you pull it away, tossing it somewhere behind you. "I'll know if you lie. And you really, really don't want to lie to me right now."
Her breasts are exactly as you remember them—small and firm, with pale brown nipples that are already tightening in the cool air of the apartment. They sit high on her chest, the kind of breasts that don't need a bra but look devastating in one anyway. You've kissed those nipples a hundred times. You've cupped those breasts in your hands and told her she was perfect.
Now you look at them and feel nothing but cold satisfaction at the way she shivers under your gaze.
"Please," Winter whispers, her voice barely audible. "Please, I'm sorry—"
"What did I say about speaking?" Your hand closes around her throat—not squeezing, just holding, a promise of pressure. "What did I tell you, Winter?"
Her mouth opens, then closes. She shakes her head, tears still streaming, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts that make her chest rise and fall in a way that would be mesmerizing if you weren't so focused on the terror in her eyes.
"Good girl," you murmur, and something flickers in her expression at those words—something complicated and unwilling. "You can learn. That's good. Because I have a lot to teach you tonight."
You release her throat and step back, taking your time as you circle the chair. She's trembling now, a full-body shiver that makes the zip ties creak against the wood. When you're behind her, you lean down close to her ear, close enough that your breath ghosts over her skin.
"Here's what's going to happen." Your voice is soft, almost gentle, and that seems to scare her more than the yelling ever did. "I'm going to untie you from this chair. You're not going to run. You're not going to scream. You're not going to fight. Because if you do any of those things, I'll make sure every single one of those screenshots gets sent to your parents, your coworkers, your friends. Everyone who thinks you're such a sweet, innocent girl. Do you understand?"
Winter makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a whimper, but she nods.
"Words," you say sharply. "Use your words."
"I understand." Her voice is hoarse, wrecked by crying. "I understand. I'll—I'll do whatever you want. Just please, please don't—"
"Don't what? Don't hurt you?" You come back around to face her, and you smile—a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, Winter. Not the way you think. I'm going to do something much worse."
You pull a small knife from your pocket—a folding blade you've had for years, nothing special, but the way Winter's eyes lock onto it makes it seem like a weapon of war. She goes rigid, her breathing stopping entirely for one long, suspended second.
You cut the zip ties on her ankles first. Then, carefully, you cut the ones binding her wrists. The plastic falls away, and Winter slumps forward, her body sagging with relief even as she keeps trembling. There are red marks on her skin where the restraints dug in. You'll add more marks before the night is over.
"Stand up," you command.
She does. Her legs are unsteady, and she stumbles, catching herself on the arm of the chair. Her ruined dress hangs around her hips, and her naked torso is covered in goosebumps, her nipples hard points that she instinctively tries to cover with her arms.
"Don't." Your voice is sharp enough to freeze her mid-motion. "Don't you dare cover yourself. You didn't cover yourself for Minho, did you? You didn't hide your body from him. So you don't get to hide it from me."
Winter's arms drop to her sides. The humiliation is written all over her face—in the deep flush spreading across her chest, in the way she can't meet your eyes, in the quiver of her jaw. But there's something else there too, something she's fighting to suppress. A flicker of heat in her gaze. A quickening of her breath that isn't just fear.
You've known her long enough to recognize it. Winter has always had a submissive streak, a secret desire to be told what to do, to be overpowered, to be taken. You explored it a little during your relationship—light bondage, some playful dominance—but she always shied away from admitting how much she wanted it.
Tonight, you're going to drag that desire out of her whether she likes it or not.
"Take off the rest of your dress," you say.
Winter's hands move to her waist, fumbling with the torn fabric. She pushes it down over her hips, letting it pool at her feet. Now she's standing in nothing but a pair of red lace panties—the matching set, you assume, to the bra you already removed. They're skimpy, barely-there things, the kind of underwear she never wore for you until recently. You always wondered who she was dressing up for.
Now you know.
"Those too," you say, nodding at the panties.
A shudder runs through her, but she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down. The lace slides over her thighs, past her knees, and she steps out of them with the nervous grace of a gazelle. She's completely naked now, her body on full display in the harsh apartment light.
You take a moment to look at her. Really look.
Winter's body is a fucking masterpiece even now, even knowing what she's done. Her skin is fair and smooth, almost luminous under the overhead light, with a small mole just below her left rib that you used to kiss in the mornings. Her waist dips inward, an elegant curve that flares out to hips that have always driven you crazy. Her legs are long and toned from years of dance training, thighs that can grip with surprising strength.
And between those thighs—the part of her that's been betraying you for four months.
She keeps herself waxed clean, a habit she started last year. The mound of her cunt is bare and smooth, the lips just barely visible from where you're standing, a hint of pink nestled between her legs. You can't see much from this angle, but you will. You'll see everything before the night is through.
"On your knees," you say.
Winter hesitates—just for a second, just long enough for her defiance to register—and you see something flash in her eyes. The old Winter, the one who argued with you about everything, the one who could never just submit. But she's fighting herself as much as she's fighting you, and after that brief moment of resistance, she sinks down.
Her knees hit the hardwood floor with a soft thud, and she winces. The position puts her at eye level with your crotch, and she stares straight ahead, her jaw tight, her breath coming in shallow little gasps.
"Look at me," you say.
Slowly, reluctantly, she tilts her head back. Her eyes are still wet, her mascara still a mess, but underneath all that, there's something else. Something that looks almost like anticipation.
"You're going to be my little pet tonight," you tell her. "You're going to crawl when I tell you to crawl. You're going to beg when I tell you to beg. You're going to take my cock in every single hole your cheating body has, and you're going to thank me for the privilege. Do you understand?"
Winter's throat works as she swallows. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
She stares at you, lost. You let the silence stretch, watching her fumble for the right answer, watching the realization slowly dawn.
"Yes… sir?" she tries.
You backhand her across the other cheek.
The slap is harder this time, snapping her head to the side, and she cries out—a sharp, shocked sound. Her hand flies to her face, cupping the new mark, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
"Wrong," you say calmly. "Try again."
Winter is sobbing openly now, her shoulders shaking, her body curled inward like she's trying to make herself as small as possible. "I don't—I don't know what you want—"
"You had a name for Minho, didn't you? When he was balls-deep in this tight little cunt, what did you call him?"
Her face goes pale, then red. The question hangs in the air, ugly and demanding, and you watch her struggle with it. She doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to admit it. But she's naked on her knees in your apartment, and she knows—she knows—that lying will only make things worse.
"Daddy," she whispers, barely audible. "I called him daddy."
Something hot and sharp twists in your gut. Jealousy. Rage. A sick, possessive arousal that you don't want to name.
"Then that's what you'll call me," you say, and your voice comes out rougher than you intended. "Now. Try again."
"Yes, daddy." The words are barely a breath, but she says them, and her eyes squeeze shut like she can't bear to see your reaction.
"Good girl." You reach down and pat her head, threading your fingers through her messy hair. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Winter shakes her head, still not opening her eyes.
"Now," you say, unbuckling your belt with your free hand, "you're going to show me what that pretty little mouth can do besides lie."
Her eyes fly open at the sound of your zipper.
She watches, transfixed, as you pull your pants and boxers down just far enough to free your cock. You're already half-hard—have been since you first tied her to that chair, if you're being honest—and the sight of your erection makes her breath catch in her throat.
She's seen it before, of course. Hundreds of times. But never like this. Never with fear and shame and something darker swirling in her expression.
"Open your mouth," you command.
Winter hesitates. One last flicker of resistance. One last attempt to hold onto whatever dignity she has left.
Then she parts her lips.
They're the same lips you've kissed a thousand times—full and soft, the lower one slightly plumper than the upper. The lips that whispered I love you in the dark. The lips that wrapped around Minho's cock while you were at work.
You guide yourself to her mouth, rubbing the head of your dick against her bottom lip. A smear of pre-cum glistens on her skin, and she flinches at the contact but doesn't pull away.
"Tongue," you say.
She sticks it out—that small pink tongue you used to find adorable—and you tap the head of your cock against it. Once. Twice. A string of saliva and pre-cum connects you for a moment before breaking.
"Look at you," you murmur, almost to yourself. "On your knees for me. Tongue out. Ready to worship my cock. This is where you belong, isn't it, Winter?"
She makes a small sound—not quite a yes, not quite a no—and you take that as permission to push forward.
The first inch slides past her lips, and the wet heat of her mouth closes around you like a memory. She's always been good at this—eager and attentive, knowing exactly how to use her tongue—but tonight she's hesitant, her movements slow and uncertain. You don't care. This isn't about her pleasure. This isn't about making love. This is about ownership.
"More," you growl, fisting your hand in her hair. "Take more."
You push deeper, and Winter gags, her throat convulsing around the tip of your cock. The sound is wet and desperate, and her hands fly up to brace against your thighs. But she doesn't push you away. She doesn't bite down. She just kneels there, tears streaming down her face, and lets you use her mouth like a toy.
"Fuck," you breathe, pulling back just enough to let her gasp for air before pushing in again. "This mouth. This fucking mouth. You used it to kiss me goodbye every morning. You used it to tell me you loved me. And the whole time, the whole fucking time, you were using it to suck Minho's dick."
Winter makes a muffled sound around your cock—maybe a protest, maybe an apology—but you don't stop. You fuck her mouth in slow, deliberate strokes, watching your shaft disappear between her stretched lips, watching the way her cheeks hollow with the suction.
"That's it," you mutter, hips rocking steadily. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. This is what you're good for, isn't it? Not loyalty. Not love. Just being a warm hole for men to stick their cocks in."
She's crying harder now, moaning around your dick, and the vibrations send sparks of pleasure up your spine. Her saliva is dripping down her chin, mixing with the ruined mascara, pooling in the hollow of her throat. She looks obscene. Ruined. Nothing like the perfect girlfriend you thought you had.
You like her better this way.
After a few more thrusts, you pull out completely. Winter gasps, sucking in air, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. A thick strand of spit connects your cock to her lower lip, and she stares at it with glassy eyes.
"Crawl," you say, stepping back. "Crawl to the bedroom."
She looks up at you—confused, humiliated, wrecked—and for a moment you think she might refuse. But then she leans forward, placing her hands on the floor, and begins to crawl.
The sight of it hits you like a physical blow. Winter, naked and shivering, moving across your apartment floor on her hands and knees. Her ass sways with every movement, that perfect round ass you used to grab in the kitchen while she was cooking. The curve of her spine dips and rises like a landscape you want to conquer. Her hair hangs down, hiding her face, and she doesn't look back at you.
She crawls past the couch where you used to cuddle for movie nights. Past the bookshelf where she kept her collection of romance novels. Past the framed photo of the two of you at Jeju Island, sunburned and laughing, arms wrapped around each other like you'd never let go.
You follow her, watching every movement, and by the time she reaches the bedroom door, your cock is achingly hard.
"On the bed," you say. "On your back."
She climbs onto the mattress—the same mattress you shared for two years, the one where she first told you she loved you, the one where you planned your future together. She lies back, her hair fanning out on the pillow, and stares up at the ceiling. Her body is tense, waiting.
You undress the rest of the way, shedding your shirt and letting your pants fall to the floor. She doesn't look at you. She keeps her eyes fixed upward, her jaw tight, her fingers clutching the sheets.
"Spread your legs."
Slowly, with all the reluctance she can muster, Winter lets her thighs fall open.
And there it is. The pussy that's been betraying you for four months.
It's beautiful. You can't deny that. Plump and smooth, with delicate outer lips that part just slightly to reveal the pink inner folds beneath. Her clit is a small pearl, half-hidden under its hood, and even from here you can see that she's wet—a glistening sheen of arousal that betrays everything her tear-streaked face is trying to deny.
"You're wet," you say, and it's not a question.
Winter shakes her head frantically. "No. No, I'm not—it's just—I can't help—"
"Don't lie." You kneel on the bed between her spread thighs, your hands gripping her knees to push them further apart. "This cunt is dripping. This cheating little cunt is so wet for me. Does it get this wet for Minho, too? Does it get slick for him the way it's getting slick for me right now?"
She doesn't answer. Can't answer. Her face is burning with shame, her body betraying her with every passing second.
You run one finger along her slit, just barely touching, and Winter's whole body jerks like she's been electrocuted. A strangled sound escapes her throat—half gasp, half moan—and her hips buck upward involuntarily.
"So responsive," you murmur, pulling your finger away. A bridge of her wetness stretches between your fingertip and her pussy, glistening in the lamplight. "So eager. You can pretend all you want, Winter, but your body knows the truth. Your body knows you're a filthy little slut who gets off on being used."
"I'm not—" she starts, but the words die in her throat when you slap her pussy.
Not hard—just a sharp, stinging tap that makes her gasp and clench around nothing. The sound is wet, obscene, and you watch a fresh wave of slickness coat her folds.
"You were saying?"
Winter just shakes her head, biting her lip so hard you're afraid she'll draw blood.
"That's what I thought." You lean down, positioning your face inches from her cunt. You can smell her now—the musky, intimate scent of her arousal—and it makes your mouth water. "I'm going to taste this pussy now. I'm going to lick every inch of it. And you're going to lie there and take it. No coming. Not until I say so. Understand?"
"Yes, daddy." The words are automatic now, almost reflexive, and something dark and satisfied curls in your chest.
You lower your mouth to her cunt.
The first lick is broad and flat, lapping up the length of her slit. Winter moans—a desperate, broken sound—and her hips roll against your face. Her taste floods your tongue, salty and sweet and unmistakably her. You've eaten her out dozens of times before, but never like this. Never with this kind of cold, calculated precision.
You trace the edges of her inner lips with the tip of your tongue, mapping the slick, swollen flesh. She's so wet it's almost dripping, her juices coating your chin and the lower half of your face. Every flick of your tongue makes her twitch and gasp, her thighs trembling on either side of your head.
"You taste like a whore," you tell her, pulling back just long enough to speak. "This cunt tastes like it's been used. Like another man's cock has been sliding in and out of it, stretching it, filling it with cum."
Winter sobs, but her hips keep moving, grinding against your mouth like they have a mind of their own.
You dive back in, focusing on her clit now. The little nub is swollen and sensitive, and when you suck it between your lips, Winter screams. Not a scream of pain—a scream of pleasure, torn from her throat before she can stop it.
"Oh god, oh fuck, please—" Her hands fly to your hair, gripping and pulling, but she can't seem to decide whether she's trying to push you away or pull you closer. "I can't—I'm going to—"
"No." You pull back immediately, and Winter cries out in frustration. "I told you. No coming. Not until I let you."
She's panting, her chest heaving, her cunt clenching on empty air. The look on her face is pure desperation—eyes wild, mouth open, skin flushed from her cheeks all the way down to her tits.
"Please," she begs, and it's the first time tonight she's begged without being prompted. "Please, daddy, I need—I need to come. Please let me come."
The sound of her begging—really begging, not just pleading for mercy—sends a surge of heat through your body. Your cock aches with the need to be inside her, but you're not done yet. You haven't broken her yet.
"You don't deserve to come," you tell her, crawling up her body until you're hovering over her, your face inches from hers. "You don't deserve anything except to be used like the worthless slut you are. But I'm going to fuck you anyway. I'm going to fill this cheating cunt with my cock. And you're not going to come until I give you permission. Do you understand?"
"Yes, daddy." Her voice is wrecked, raw from crying and moaning and screaming. "Please fuck me. Please use my pussy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just please—"
You drive into her in one hard thrust.
Winter arches off the bed, a guttural moan ripping from her throat as your cock stretches her open. She's tight—fuck, she's always been tight—but she's also drenched, and the way her walls grip you is almost unbearable. Every inch of your shaft is squeezed and stroked by that hot, wet channel, and you have to stop for a moment just to keep from coming right then and there.
"Look at you," you grit out, pulling back until just the tip is inside her, then slamming home again. The wet slap of your hips against hers fills the room. "Taking my cock like you were made for it. This is what you are, Winter. This is all you are. A set of holes for me to fuck."
She's babbling now, an incoherent stream of apologies and pleas and moans. Her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper, and her nails rake down your back. The pain is sharp and grounding, and you fuck her harder in response.
The bed creaks beneath you. The headboard slams against the wall with every thrust. The room smells like sex—sweat and arousal and the faint lingering traces of her perfume. You watch your cock disappear into her again and again, the slick, pink flesh of her cunt clinging to your shaft every time you pull out.
"Who owns this pussy?" you demand, your rhythm growing punishing.
"You do!" Winter cries, her eyes rolling back. "You own it, daddy! It's yours!"
"Who did you spread your legs for like a cheap whore behind my back?"
"Minho—I'm sorry—I'm so fucking sorry—"
"You're damn right you're sorry." You grab her hips, angling them upward, and the new position drives your cock even deeper. She screams as you hit her cervix, her whole body convulsing. "But sorry doesn't fix anything. Sorry doesn't un-fuck all the times you let him inside you. Sorry doesn't make you any less of a dirty, cheating slut."
Winter is crying again, but her cunt is squeezing you tighter than ever, her hips bucking up to meet your thrusts. The contradiction is beautiful—the way her mind is breaking while her body chases its own pleasure.
"I'm going to come inside you," you tell her, your voice dropping to a growl. "I'm going to fill this unfaithful cunt with my cum. I'm going to pump you so full of it that it drips down your thighs for days. Maybe I'll knock you up. Maybe I'll put a baby in this cheating belly. Would you like that, Winter? Would you like to carry my child while you remember that you spread your legs for another man?"
She doesn't answer with words. She just sobs and nods, her inner walls fluttering around your cock in a way that tells you she's close—so close—to shattering.
"Please," she gasps, her voice cracking. "Please, daddy, I can't—I can't hold it anymore—please let me come—"
You look down at her. At this woman who broke your heart. At this woman who lied to your face for months. At this woman who is now nothing more than a sobbing, pleading mess on your cock.
"No," you say, and you pull out.
Winter's scream of denial echoes through the apartment. Her cunt clenches on nothing, desperate and empty, and her whole body shakes with the force of her denied orgasm.
"Why?" she wails, her hands reaching for you. "Why? I did everything you said—I called you daddy—I crawled—"
"You haven't learned your lesson yet." You grab her hips and flip her over, positioning her on her hands and knees. "But you will."
Behind her like this, the view is devastating. Her ass is round and perfect, pale skin dimpled at the sides, the curves leading down to a cunt that's swollen and slick and begging to be filled. You can see everything—the pink folds, the tight clench of her hole, the glistening evidence of her denied pleasure.
"Hands on the headboard," you command. "And don't move them."
Winter obeys, gripping the wooden slats like they're the only thing keeping her alive. Her back arches, presenting herself to you like an offering.
You position yourself behind her, the head of your cock nudging against her entrance. She's so wet it's obscene—her juices running down her thighs, making everything slick and messy and perfect.
"Beg," you say, not moving.
"Please," she whimpers immediately. "Please fuck me. Please use my pussy. I'm a whore. I'm a worthless cheating whore and I deserve to be punished. Please, daddy. Please give me your cock."
You slam into her from behind, and this time there's no restraint—just brutal, punishing rhythm that makes her scream into the pillow. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh mixes with her cries, and you grip her hips hard enough to bruise. Every thrust drives her forward into the headboard, her tits bouncing, her hair flying, her whole body jolting with the impact.
You're close. You can feel it building at the base of your spine, a pressure that's been mounting since the moment she knelt for you.
"You're going to take every drop," you growl, your rhythm stuttering. "Every single fucking drop. And then you're going to thank me."
"Yes—" Winter sobs into the pillow. "Yes, please, fill me up—I want it—I need it—"
The climax hits you like a freight train.
Your cock pulses inside her, the first jet of cum blasting against her cervix with enough force to make her gasp. You groan through clenched teeth, your fingers digging into her hips as you pump load after load of thick, hot semen into her clutching cunt. You can feel it flooding her—can feel the way her walls milk your shaft, drawing every last drop from your balls.
Time seems to slow. All you can hear is your own ragged breathing and Winter's soft, broken sobs. All you can feel is the wet heat of her pussy, clenching rhythmically around your still-pulsing cock.
When you finally pull out, a gush of white fluid follows, dripping from her stretched hole onto the sheets. Her inner thighs are slick with it. Her cunt is a mess of mingled juices—her arousal and your cum, trickling slowly down her folds.
You reach for the rope beneath the bed—coarse hemp you bought three days ago, after you found the messages, after the plan crystallized in your mind like ice forming on a winter lake. Winter's breathing stutters when she hears the coils scrape against the floorboards.
"What—what is that?" Her voice is wrecked, barely a croak.
"Language lesson number two." You pull the rope onto the mattress beside her trembling body. "Questions are a privilege. You haven't earned privileges."
She whimpers into the pillow, her ass still raised from when you flipped her over, your cum still drooling from her cunt in a slow, viscous trickle that catches the lamplight. The sight of it—that pearlescent white smeared across her swollen pink folds—makes your cock twitch even though you just emptied your balls inside her.
You haven't softened. Not completely. The rage is still there, coiling in your gut like a serpent, keeping you hard, keeping you hungry.
"Sit up."
Winter pushes herself upright on shaky arms. Her mascara has carved black tributaries down her cheeks. Her lip trembles. Her tits—those perfect, perky tits Minho got to see, got to touch, got to suck—rise and fall with every ragged breath. You grab her jaw, squeezing until her lips purse obscenely.
"You cried during that whole fuck. You begged me to stop. But this cunt—" Your other hand drops between her legs, two fingers plunging into her soaked hole without warning. She gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily. "This cunt is still drooling. Still gripping my fingers like it's starving. You can lie with your mouth, Winter, but this slutty little pussy tells the truth."
"I—I can't help—"
"You can't help being a whore. I know." You withdraw your fingers, slick with the combined evidence of your cum and her arousal, and smear it across her lips. "Taste it. Taste what a cheating slut's cunt tastes like mixed with the cum of the man she betrayed."
Her eyes squeeze shut. A fresh sob wracks her shoulders. But she opens her mouth. Her tongue—that pink, traitorous tongue—darts out and licks her lips clean.
"Good girl," you murmur, and the shudder that runs through her isn't entirely disgust. "Now. Blindfold."
You pull a strip of black silk from the pile of supplies you stashed under the bed—Mina helped you shop, her eyes blazing with a fury that matched your own, her suggestions growing darker with every item you added to the cart. The silk is soft, expensive, the kind of thing Winter might have worn in her hair on a date night.
Now it's going to cover her eyes while you destroy what's left of her dignity.
"Lift your head."
She obeys, tilting her chin up, and you wrap the silk around her eyes, knotting it tight at the back of her skull. Her breath quickens immediately—the darkness disorienting her, stripping away the last shred of control she had. Her hands flutter up like she wants to touch the blindfold, but she catches herself, fists clenching at her sides instead.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" you ask, waving your hand in front of her face.
"I—I don't know. I can't see anything."
"Exactly." You grab her by the upper arms and haul her off the bed. She staggers, her knees buckling, but you hold her upright with a grip that'll leave bruises. "You're going to learn what it feels like to be completely powerless. To have no idea what's coming next. The way I felt for four fucking months while you were spreading your legs for my best friend."
"I'm sor—"
The slap lands on her ass this time, a sharp crack that echoes off the bedroom walls. Winter yelps, her body jerking forward, but you yank her back against your chest. Your cock presses against the cleft of her ass, and she freezes, feeling it.
"Did I tell you to speak?"
"N-no."
"Then shut your fucking mouth."
You maneuver her toward the bed, but not onto it. You've got something else in mind. The restraints you rigged earlier—rope loops dangling from the ceiling hook where a hanging plant used to live, back when this apartment was a home and not a crime scene of betrayal—wait like black veins against the white ceiling.
"Arms up."
Winter hesitates. You can feel the resistance in her muscles, the last flickering embers of defiance. Then she raises her arms, and you guide her wrists into the loops, cinching them tight enough that she's suspended, her weight partially supported by the ropes, her toes barely brushing the floor.
"Fuck," she breathes, the word punched out of her as the ropes take her weight.
"Not yet." You circle around to her front, admiring your work. "But we'll get there."
She's a vision. A ruined, debauched, obscene vision. Her arms stretched above her head, her tits lifted and thrust forward, nipples pebbled tight. Her ribs visible beneath her pale skin with every shuddering inhale. Her thighs slick with a mix of her juices and your cum, the evidence of her betrayal and your vengeance glistening in the lamplight.
You step behind her and grab her hips.
"Bend."
"What—"
You shove her forward at the small of her back. She folds at the waist, her ass thrusting out obscenely, her upper body angled down toward the mattress. The new position puts her pussy and asshole on perfect display—a filthy feast spread just for you.
"Hook your ankles here." You tap the spreader bar you positioned earlier, a length of polished wood with leather cuffs at each end. "Now."
She fumbles blindly, her bound hands forcing her to rely on your guidance. You cuff first her left ankle, then her right, spreading her legs wide, opening her completely. When you step back to admire the view, your cock throbs so hard it aches.
Winter's cunt is a masterpiece of debauchery. The outer lips are puffy and dark pink, swollen from the fucking you just gave her, parted just enough to reveal the slick, glistening inner folds. Your cum has been leaking out steadily, a white rivulet tracing down her inner thigh, and her clit is a hard little pearl protruding from its hood, desperate and ignored. Below that impossibly tight pucker, her asshole—a small, pink buttonhole that you've never touched before tonight, that you've never even asked for because you were too respectful, too considerate, too fucking stupid.
Minho probably fucked her here. Probably bent her over just like this and shoved his cock into that tight little hole while she moaned and begged for more.
The thought makes your vision go red.
SMACK
Your palm cracks across her right asscheek, and Winter screams—a raw, startled sound that dissolves into a moan as the sting fades to a warm throb. The pale flesh blooms pink, a perfect handprint rising against her skin.
"Count," you command.
"O-one—"
SMACK
The left cheek this time. She buckles forward, the ropes creaking, her cunt clenching visibly on empty air.
"T-two—"
SMACK SMACK SMACK
Three in rapid succession, alternating cheeks, the sound wet and brutal in the quiet room. Winter's counting dissolves into sobs, her ass glowing pink, then red, the skin hot to the touch when you pause to palm the heated flesh.
"Look at this." You spread her cheeks wide, revealing everything—the slick, puffy folds of her cunt, the tight clench of her asshole, the trickle of cum still seeping from her used hole. "This is what you are. Not my girlfriend. Not Minjeong. Just holes. Just a set of wet, greedy holes that don't care whose cock is filling them."
"That's not—" she starts, but her voice breaks when you press your thumb against her asshole.
"What was that?"
Silence. A shudder. Then, so quiet you almost miss it: "Nothing, daddy."
"That's what I thought."
You release her cheeks and step back, drinking in the tableau. Your cock is leaking pre-cum in a steady stream, the head purple and engorged, veins standing out along the shaft. You stroke yourself slowly, watching Winter's blindfolded head turn at the wet sound of your palm sliding over your flesh.
"You hear that? I'm jerking my cock looking at your ass. That tight little asshole you never let me touch. Did you let Minho fuck you here? Did you let him push his dick into this virgin hole while you moaned like the slut you are?"
Winter shakes her head frantically, her hair whipping across her shoulders. "No—no, I never—we never—"
"But you wanted to." You step closer, pressing the head of your cock against her anus. She goes rigid, a strangled sound catching in her throat. "You wanted him to. Admit it."
"I—" She's trembling, every muscle taut, her bound hands flexing uselessly above her head. "Yes. Yes, I wanted him to. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"
"Sorry doesn't unfuck my best friend, Winter. Sorry doesn't make you less of a dirty little anal whore who would've let him split you open if he'd asked." You spit on her asshole, a thick glob of saliva that lands directly on the tight pucker. She flinches but doesn't pull away. "But I'll tell you what does help."
"What?"
"Me taking what you were going to give him."
You push.
Just the tip—just the fat, slick head of your cock pressing against that impossibly tight ring of muscle. Winter screams, a high, keening sound, her body trying to buck away but finding nowhere to go. The ropes hold her suspended. The spreader bar keeps her legs open. She's trapped, presented, utterly at your mercy.
"Relax," you growl, gripping her hips hard enough to dimple the flesh. "Relax or it's going to hurt a hell of a lot worse."
"I can't—it's too big—please, please, go slow—"
"Slow? You want me to go slow?" You lean over her, your chest pressing against her back, your mouth at her ear. "Did you go slow with Minho? Did you tell him to go slow when he was fucking your cunt behind my back?"
"That's different—"
"How?"
She doesn't answer. Can't answer. You push a little harder, and the head of your cock pops past the first ring of resistance. Winter's scream breaks into something else—a guttural, animal moan that vibrates through her whole body. Her asshole clenches around you like a vice, so tight it's almost painful, the heat of her gripping and releasing in panicked spasms.
"Fuuuuck," you groan, the word dragged out of you. "Fuck, this ass is tight. So goddamn tight. Minho doesn't get to have this. This is mine now. You understand? This asshole belongs to me."
"Yes—yes, daddy—it's yours—oh god, it's so deep—"
You've barely got two inches inside her. But to Winter, suspended and blindfolded and spread open, it must feel like you're splitting her in half. Her inner walls flutter and clench, trying desperately to accommodate the intrusion. You can feel every ridge, every tight band of muscle, every involuntary spasm.
"More," you command, and push another inch.
Winter sobs, but her hips—her traitorous, needy hips—push backward, meeting your thrust. The contradiction is exquisite: her mouth crying no while her body begs yes, her asshole resisting even as it swallows your cock deeper.
"You're taking it so well," you murmur, pulling back slightly, then pushing in again. A slow, shallow rhythm that works her open inch by agonizing inch. "Such a good little anal slut. Did you know that's what you were? Did you know your asshole was made to take cock?"
"No—I didn't—I never—ahhh—"
You bottom out.
Your hips press flush against her reddened asscheeks, your entire length buried in her virgin asshole. Winter makes a sound you've never heard before—something between a sob and a moan and a prayer, her whole body shuddering around you. Her cunt, neglected and empty, drips a fresh gush of arousal onto the floor.
"Look at you," you breathe, marveling at the sight of your cock disappearing into her tightest hole. "Look at this greedy little ass, swallowing my cock like it was made for it. You're so full. Can you feel me in your stomach? Can you feel how deep I am?"
"Yes—fuck—yes, daddy, I feel you everywhere—"
You pull out slowly, savoring the drag of her tight walls against your shaft, then slam back in. Winter's scream echoes off the walls. Her bound hands clench into fists. Her toes curl against the floor.
"That's for every time you lied to me," you grunt, setting a brutal pace. "Every time you said you were working late. Every time you kissed me with Minho's cum still on your breath."
SLAP—your hips against her ass. SQUELCH—your cock plunging into her tight, dry hole, the only lubrication your spit and her body's desperate attempt to accommodate the invasion. GLURK—the obscene sound of her asshole gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing, a filthy rhythm that fills the room.
"Tell me what you are," you demand, your rhythm growing punishing. "Tell me what your asshole is."
"Yours—it's yours, daddy—my ass belongs to you—"
"And your cunt?"
"Yours—"
"And your mouth?"
"Yours—all of me—every hole—I'm your whore—I'm your fucking whore—"
The words tumble out of her in a fevered rush, and you know—you can hear it in her voice—that she means them. Not because she's broken. Not because you've beaten her into submission. But because this is what she's wanted all along. Someone to take control. Someone to use her the way she's always been too ashamed to ask for.
Minho gave her a taste of it. But you're giving her the whole fucking meal.
"That's right," you growl, reaching around to grab her tits, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her yelp. "You're my whore. Not Minho's. Not anyone else's. Mine. And my whores take what I give them. Understand?"
"Yes—yes—oh fuck, right there—"
"You like my cock in your ass, don't you? You like being bent over and fucked like a cheap slut?"
"Yes—I love it—I love your cock in my ass—"
"Say it again."
"I love your cock in my ass, daddy—I love being your anal whore—please don't stop—please fuck my ass harder—"
The begging—genuine, desperate, filthy begging—sends a surge of heat through your spine. You slam into her with renewed force, your balls slapping against her wet cunt with every thrust. The dual sensation—her tight asshole gripping your shaft, her slick pussy lips kissing your sack—is almost too much to bear.
"I'm going to come in your ass," you warn her, your rhythm growing erratic. "I'm going to fill this tight little hole with my cum. I'm going to plug you up and make you hold it inside you all night. You're going to sleep with my seed in your ass and wake up feeling it leak out."
"Do it—please, daddy—fill my ass—breed my asshole—"
The word breed coming from her lips—from prim, proper Minjeong, who blushed at the word penis—pushes you over the edge.
Your orgasm detonates at the base of your spine and rockets through your entire body. Your cock pulses inside her, the first thick jet of cum painting her insides white. You roar—an actual roar, torn from your chest—as you pump load after load into her clutching asshole, filling her deeper than you've ever filled anyone. You can feel your seed flooding her, can feel her anal walls milking your shaft, drawing every last drop from your balls.
"Fuuuuuuck," you groan, collapsing against her back, your forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. "Fuck, Winter. Fuck."
She's sobbing again—but these are different sobs. Quieter. Softer. Almost grateful.
"Thank you, daddy," she whispers, her voice raw and broken. "Thank you for using my ass."
You stay inside her for a long moment, feeling your cum pulse and settle in her depths. When you finally pull out, your cock comes free with a wet pop, and a gush of white fluid follows, dripping from her stretched, ruined hole down onto the floor.
You stare at the mess you've made of her. Her ass is red from your handprints, her asshole is gaping slightly, leaking your seed, and her cunt—her poor, neglected cunt—is still swollen and dripping, still desperate for attention, still untouched since you denied her orgasm earlier.
"Please," Winter breathes, her voice barely audible. "Please, daddy. My pussy—it hurts—I need to come—please let me come—"
You walk around to her front and crouch down so you're level with her blindfolded face. She's a mess—tears and snot and smeared mascara, her lips swollen from biting back screams.
"You want to come?"
"Yes—please—I'll do anything—"
"Anything?"
"Anything."
You reach up and untie the blindfold. The silk falls away, and Winter blinks in the sudden light, her eyes red and glassy, struggling to focus. When her gaze finally finds you, something in her expression shifts. The terror is still there, but underneath it, blazing like a furnace, is pure, unadulterated need.
"Then beg," you say, standing up and walking to the bedside table where you left your phone. "Beg while I record every second of it. Beg while I make a video that proves exactly what you are."
Winter's eyes go wide. The humiliation is written all over her face—in the fresh flush creeping up her chest, in the way her mouth opens and closes wordlessly, in the tremble of her bound hands.
But her cunt—that traitorous, needy cunt—drips another bead of arousal onto the floor.
"I'm waiting," you say, raising the phone.
Winter takes a shuddering breath.
Then she begins to beg.
You stare at the sight, transfixed, as Winter collapses onto the mattress. Her body is limp, her face half-buried in the pillow, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.
"Thank you," she whispers, the words barely intelligible. "Thank you, daddy."
You should feel satisfied. Victorious. You've humiliated her, punished her, claimed her in the most primal way possible.
But you're not done.
You haven't even gotten to the part where Mina exposes Minho in front of the whole restaurant.
And Winter still hasn't come—not once—and her body is trembling with unfulfilled need.
You smile, slow and cold, and reach for the rope you stashed under the bed.
"We're just getting started, sweetheart," you murmur, watching her freeze at the sound of your voice. "We're just getting started."
Your cum is still dripping out of Minjeong's cunt when you reach for your phone on the nightstand.
She lies on the bed behind you—a ruined, trembling mess of sweat and tears and leaking semen. Her thighs are slick with it. The sheets beneath her are soaked. Little whimpering sounds escape her throat, these pathetic half-sobs that hitch and stutter every time she exhales. She hasn't come. You made sure of that. Her pussy is still swollen and aching, her clit a throbbing nub that twitches every time a fresh dribble of your seed oozes out of her stretched hole and slides down across that sensitive little pearl.
You don't look at her. Not yet.
Instead, you scroll through your contacts until you find Mina's name. Minho's girlfriend. The woman who sat across from you at that restaurant two hours ago, her face pale with fury as she scrolled through the screenshots you'd sent her. The woman who agreed—without hesitation—that Minho needed to be destroyed.
She picks up on the second ring.
"Is it done?" Her voice is sharp, eager. Hungry.
"Part of it." You glance over your shoulder at Winter's limp form. "But I've got a better idea. Bring Minho here. My apartment. Right now."
A pause on the line. Then: "He's in the bathroom. Crying like a little bitch. What are you planning?"
"You'll see. Just bring him. And Mina?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let him say no."
She laughs—a cold, brittle sound that crackles through the speaker. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The line goes dead.
You toss the phone onto the dresser and turn back to Winter. She's watching you now, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her mascara a raccoon smear around her puffy eyelids. Her lips are swollen from your cock. Her throat probably aches from the way you fucked it. And between her legs—god, between her legs she's a goddamn disaster. Her cunt lips are puffy and red, spread slightly from the pounding you gave her, and a thick white glob of cum is slowly making its way down her inner thigh.
"You hear that, sweetheart?" You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself over her. "Minho's coming over."
Winter's eyes widen. The fog of exhaustion lifts just enough for panic to creep in. "No—please—don't let him see me like this—"
You slap her. Not hard—just a stinging little tap across her cheek that makes her gasp and shut up.
"What did I tell you about making requests?" You grab her jaw, squeezing until her lips pucker. "You don't get to have opinions tonight. You don't get to have dignity. You're a cheating whore, and cheating whores get put on display. Understand?"
A tear slips down her cheek and over your fingers. "Yes, daddy."
"Good fucking girl." You release her and slide off the bed. "Now stay there. Don't move. Don't wipe anything off. I want Minho to see exactly what happens to the pussy he thought belonged to him."
Winter makes a sound—something between a whimper and a moan—but she doesn't move. She lies there, legs still spread, cunt still leaking, and waits.
Twenty minutes pass. You spend them in the living room, sitting in the armchair facing the door, still naked, still half-hard. The apartment smells like sex and sweat and the faint floral perfume Winter wore to the restaurant. You don't bother cleaning up. You want Minho to walk into this. You want the stench of what you've done to hit him in the face the second he steps through that door.
The knock comes at 11:47 PM. Sharp. Three quick raps.
You don't get up. "It's open."
The door swings inward, and Mina shoves Minho through it like she's handling a prisoner.
He stumbles, catching himself on the back of the couch, and for one long moment he doesn't seem to understand what he's looking at. The apartment. The torn dress on the floor. The zip ties still looped around the chair in the middle of the room. And you—naked, lounging in the armchair like a king on a throne, your cock still glistening with the mingled evidence of what you've done.
"Mina said—" Minho's voice cracks. He's a good-looking guy—you've always known that. Tall, with broad shoulders and that stupid chiseled jawline that Winter probably traced with her fingertips while he was balls-deep inside her. But right now he looks like shit. His eyes are red-rimmed. His shirt is untucked. His hands are shaking. "She said you had something to show me."
"That I do." You stand up slowly, savoring the way Minho flinches. "Bedroom. Now."
Minho doesn't move. His eyes dart to Mina, who's standing behind him with her arms crossed, her expression hard as stone. Mina is beautiful in a sharp, angular way—high cheekbones, dark eyes that cut, black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. She's wearing the same red dress from dinner, and the look on her face is one of pure, vindictive satisfaction.
"You heard him," Mina says, and she pushes Minho forward. "Walk."
He walks.
The three of you move down the hallway toward the bedroom, and you watch Minho's back stiffen with every step. He knows what's coming. Maybe not the specifics, but he knows. The air is thick with it—the scent of sex getting stronger, the faint sound of Winter's uneven breathing drifting through the half-open door.
You push the door open and step aside.
"Go on," you say. "Look at what you helped create."
Minho steps into the bedroom. And stops.
Winter is exactly where you left her—on her back, legs spread, cunt leaking. She looks at Minho, and something in her face just… shatters. Shame. Horror. And underneath it all, that stubborn flicker of arousal that she can't seem to extinguish no matter how hard she tries.
"Oh god," Winter whispers, and she tries to close her legs.
"No." Your voice cracks through the room like a whip. "Keep them open. He's seen your cunt before. What's one more look?"
Minho makes a strangled sound. His hands clench into fists at his sides, and he turns to you with something like fury in his eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What did you do to her?"
"What did I do?" You laugh, stepping closer to him. "What did I do? You fucked my girlfriend for four months, Minho. You texted her—what was it again?—'Need to feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock.' You made her call herself your slut. And you're asking what I did?"
Minho's jaw works, but no words come out. His eyes keep flicking back to Winter—to the mess between her thighs, to the slap marks on her cheeks, to the way her tits rise and fall with every shaky breath.
"Sit down," you say, pointing to a chair in the corner of the bedroom. "You're going to watch. And you're not going to move. Mina?"
Mina steps forward, and now you see what she's holding—a small metal device that glints under the lamplight. A chastity cage. Stainless steel, with a tiny padlock dangling from the hinge.
"Pants off, Minho," Mina says, her voice cold and clinical. "Now."
"What?" Minho stumbles backward. "No. No fucking way. Mina, you can't be serious—"
"Four months." Mina's voice doesn't waver. "You were fucking her behind my back for four months. You lied to my face. You told me you loved me. And the whole time you were sneaking off to stick your dick in his girlfriend." She gestures at you with the cage. "So yes, I'm serious. Pants off. Or I swear to god I'll call my brother and his friends and we'll make this so much worse for you."
Minho looks at you, desperate, like maybe you'll stop this. Like maybe the old friendship means something. But the old friendship died the moment you read those messages, and the look on your face must communicate that, because Minho's shoulders slump and his hands move to his belt.
His pants hit the floor. Then his boxers.
His cock is soft—pathetic, really, dangling between his thighs with none of the arrogant confidence he must have felt every time he slid it into Winter. It's average-sized, circumcised, with a thatch of dark pubic hair that looks like it hasn't been groomed in weeks. You feel nothing looking at it except contempt.
Mina crouches in front of him and works the cage into place with practiced efficiency. The metal ring goes around the base of his shaft and behind his balls. The tube slides over his limp dick. She clicks the padlock shut and pockets the key, then stands back to admire her work.
"There," she says. "Much better."
Minho sinks into the chair in the corner, his face buried in his hands, naked from the waist down with that stupid metal cage locked around his useless cock. The cage is small—intentionally so—and you can already see his flesh pressing against the bars as his body tries, instinctually, to get hard.
"Now," you say, turning back to Winter, "let's give him a real show."
Winter tries to crawl backward on the bed when you approach, but there's nowhere to go. The headboard blocks her escape. Her hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets, and a fresh wave of tears spills down her cheeks.
"Please," she whispers. "Not in front of him. Please, I'll do anything—"
"You'll do anything anyway." You grab her ankle and drag her back to the center of the mattress. "The question isn't what you'll do. The question is what I'll do to you."
You position her on her hands and knees, facing the corner where Minho is sitting. She tries to keep her head down, tries to hide her face from him, but you fist your hand in her hair and yank her head up.
"Look at him," you growl in her ear. "Look at the man you threw away our relationship for."
Winter's eyes meet Minho's. The two of them stare at each other—two people who were fucking in secret for months, now exposed and naked and utterly, completely powerless. Minho's expression is twisted with horror and something else. Something that looks almost like pain. Winter's face is a wreck of shame and tears and that stubborn, unwilling arousal that keeps making her cunt clench around nothing.
"I'm sorry," Winter mouths at him. "I'm so sorry."
Minho says nothing. Just sits there, hands gripping the armrests, cock locked in its little metal prison.
"Enough sentimentality," you say. "We've got work to do."
You spread Winter's ass cheeks apart with both hands, exposing everything. Her cunt—still slick and puffy and dripping your cum. Her asshole—a tight, pink little pucker that clenches when the cool air of the room hits it. The skin between her holes is smooth and hairless, glistening with the juices that have been leaking out of her for the past twenty minutes.
Minho makes a strangled sound. The cage rattles as his cock tries—fails—to get hard.
"You never fucked her here, did you?" You run your thumb over Winter's asshole, pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. "You always wanted to. She told me. Begged you for it. But you said no. Said it was too tight. Said you didn't want to hurt her."
You lean down, your mouth inches from Winter's ear, but your words are for Minho. "I'm not scared of hurting her."
Your thumb presses harder. The ring of muscle resists for a moment, then yields just enough for the tip of your thumb to slip inside. Winter moans—a desperate, broken sound—and her hips buck backward, pushing against your hand.
"Look at that," you say, working your thumb deeper. "She wants it. Her asshole is sucking my thumb in like it's hungry for something bigger."
"This is sick," Minho chokes out. "You're sick."
"Says the man who fucked his best friend's girlfriend." You pull your thumb out with a wet pop and line up your cock instead. "Mina, come here. I want you to see this up close."
Mina walks over to the bed, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She stands beside you, arms still crossed, and watches with dark, glittering eyes as you press the head of your cock against Winter's asshole.
"No lube," Winter gasps, suddenly panicked. "Daddy, please, no lube—it won't fit—"
"It'll fit." You bear down, and the head of your cock starts to spread her open. "It'll fit because I'm going to make it fit. And you're going to take it. Because that's what whores do. They take whatever they're given."
The first inch is brutal.
Winter screams. Not a moan, not a gasp—a full-throated scream that rips through the bedroom and makes Minho lurch forward in his chair. Her asshole clenches around you like a fist, so tight it almost hurts, and the friction is almost unbearable. But you keep pushing—slow, steady, unrelenting—and inch by inch, her body yields.
"Goddamn," Mina breathes, leaning closer. Her hand moves to her own throat, fingers pressing against the hollow. "That's… her asshole is stretching so wide."
You look down at where your bodies meet. Winter's pink pucker is stretched into a tight ring around your shaft, the skin blanched white with the pressure. Every millimeter of movement makes her gasp and shudder, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her back arching so deep her spine looks like it might snap.
"Please," she sobs, "please, it's too much—"
"You can take more." You grab her hips and thrust forward, burying another two inches inside her. "You've been taking Minho's cock for four months. You can take mine in your ass for one night."
Winter's response is unintelligible—just sounds, just raw animal noises that don't quite form words. Spit drips from her open mouth onto the pillow. Her tits sway with every shuddering breath. Her ass—that perfect, round ass you used to worship—is stretched obscenely around your cock, the cheeks spread wide, the little hole gripping you like it's trying to push you out and suck you deeper at the same time.
"How does it feel?" You reach around and press your fingers against her clit. She jolts, a strangled cry escaping her throat. "Tell Minho how it feels."
"Full," Winter whimpers. "So fucking full. It hurts—it hurts so good—"
"You hear that, Minho?" You start to move, pulling back until just the head is inside her, then sliding forward again. "She likes it. Your girlfriend—the one you called your slut—she likes getting her ass fucked by me."
Winter's head snaps up. Her eyes meet Minho's across the room, and something in her expression shifts. The shame is still there. The horror. But there's something else now too—something wild and reckless and utterly, completely broken.
"I'm sorry," she gasps, her voice pitching higher with every word. "Minho, I'm sorry—I'm his now—I'm daddy's now—your slut is daddy's now—"
The words hit Minho like a physical blow. He slumps back in his chair, and you see tears—actual tears—starting to roll down his cheeks. The man who stood beside you at your father's funeral. The man who helped you move into this apartment. The man who's been fucking your girlfriend behind your back for four months.
He's crying.
And you don't give a fuck.
"That's right," you growl, picking up the pace. "Tell him whose whore you are now."
Winter is babbling, a stream of filth pouring out of her mouth as you pound into her ass. "I'm your whore—I'm daddy's whore—I'm a dirty fucking anal slut—I love it—I love getting my ass fucked—Minho never fucked my ass—only you—only daddy—"
Mina moves to stand beside Minho's chair. She reaches down and strokes his tear-streaked cheek with one manicured finger, her expression almost tender. "Look at her," she murmurs. "Look at the woman you threw me away for. She's getting her asshole reamed by her boyfriend—her real boyfriend—and she's loving every second of it. Does that make you sad, Minho? Does it break your stupid little heart?"
Minho shakes his head, but he can't tear his eyes away from the bed. From Winter's stretched, stuffed asshole. From the way her body jolts with every thrust. From the obscene, wet sounds of your cock sliding in and out of her tightest hole.
"Mina," he whispers. "Please—make it stop—"
"Why would I do that?" Mina's hand moves from his cheek to the metal cage locked around his cock. She taps it with her fingernail, and the sound is cold and sharp. "You've been locked away. You don't get to participate. You don't get to fuck. You just get to watch. This is your punishment, Minho. Watching another man give Winter what you never could."
You hear all of this from the bed, but you're too focused on Winter to respond. Her asshole has loosened up now, the initial resistance giving way to a slick, gripping heat that feels almost as good as her cunt. You're fucking her hard—really pounding into her now—and with every thrust, her body skids forward on the mattress, her face buried in the pillow, her screams muffled by the cotton.
"Flip her," Mina says suddenly. "I want to see her face when she comes."
You pull out—Winter whimpers at the sudden emptiness—and flip her onto her back. Her legs fall open automatically, and you get a perfect view of what you've done to her. Her asshole is a gaping, twitching mess, the tight ring of muscle now a dark pink hole that doesn't quite close. Her cunt is still leaking your earlier load, a fresh dribble of white sliding down toward her ruined ass. Her face is a mask of tears and drool and smeared mascara, and her eyes… god, her eyes are completely empty. Vacant. Like the Winter you knew has been replaced by something else entirely.
You glance at Minho. He's staring at Winter's gaped asshole with a look of pure, horrified fascination. The cage around his cock is straining now—his shaft trying desperately to get hard, pressing against the metal bars, the head turning an angry purple from the constriction.
"Balls are swelling," Mina observes, pressing her finger against the cage. "Getting all backed up in there, aren't you, Minho? All that cum with nowhere to go. That's what happens when you betray the people who love you. You get locked up. You get denied. You get to watch."
"Please," Minho whispers. "Please, Mina, I'm sorry—I'll do anything—"
But Mina isn't listening anymore. She's watching you settle between Winter's legs, your cock—now slick with a mixture of her ass's natural lubrication and your previous cum—positioned at the entrance of her cunt.
"No," Winter breathes, but her legs wrap around your waist anyway. "No, I can't—I'm too sensitive—I can't take any more—"
"You'll take it." You slide inside her with one smooth motion. Her cunt is obscenely wet, drenched from your previous load and her own denied arousal, and the heat of it is a shock after the tightness of her ass. "You'll take it because I'm going to fuck another load into this cheating pussy. And this time…"
You look over at Minho. Lock eyes with him.
"This time, you're going to come for me. On my cock. While he watches."
Winter shakes her head frantically, but her hips are already moving, already grinding against you, already chasing an orgasm she's been denied for what feels like hours. "I can't—I can't come like this—not in front of him—"
"You can." You fuck into her hard, angling your hips to hit that spot inside her that always made her eyes roll back. "And you will. Because you're not his anymore. You're mine. You're daddy's little cocksleeve. And if daddy says come, you come."
"Minho—" Winter's voice cracks on his name. "Minho, don't look—please don't look—"
But Minho can't look away. His eyes are glued to the place where your cock is sawing in and out of Winter's pussy, the slick, swollen folds gripping you with every stroke, the wet sounds filling the bedroom like obscene music.
"Look at him," you command Winter, grabbing her chin and forcing her head toward the corner. "Look at Minho while you come on my cock. I want him to see your face. I want him to see exactly what he's lost."
Winter's eyes meet Minho's. The connection between them—whatever it was, whatever it meant—fractures in real time. You watch it happen. Watch the guilt and shame and longing on Winter's face transform into something else entirely. Something hungry. Something ruined.
"I'm going to come," she whispers, and the words are almost reverent. "Oh fuck, daddy, I'm going to come—"
"Then come." You fuck her harder. Faster. The sound of your hips slapping against her thighs fills the room. "Come on my cock while your ex-lover watches. Scream for me."
Winter's back arches off the bed. Her mouth opens in a silent scream. And then—
"MINHO—I'M SORRY—I'M COMING—DADDY, I'M COMING—"
Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vise, pulsing and fluttering in rhythmic waves that milk your shaft from base to tip. Her whole body convulses—legs locking around your waist, fingers clawing at your back, head thrown back so far her throat is a long pale column. A gush of fluid soaks your crotch and thighs—she's squirting, actually squirting, something she's never done before—and the sheer intensity of her orgasm pushes you over the edge right along with her.
You bury yourself to the hilt and explode.
The first pulse of cum blasts against her cervix with enough force to make her shriek. The second floods her channel, mixing with the remnants of your first load and her own copious juices. The third, fourth, fifth spurts seem to go on forever, your balls drawing up tight and emptying everything they have into her clutching, milking cunt.
"Take it," you growl, grinding your hips against hers. "Take every fucking drop."
Winter is still coming—still pulsing around you—her orgasm stretching on and on as your cum fills her to overflowing. White fluid leaks out around your shaft and drips onto the sheets, a spreading stain that smells of sex and salt and possession.
You stay inside her for a long moment, both of you panting, your foreheads pressed together. Then you pull out with a wet, obscene sound, and a flood of mingled fluids follows—cum and pussy juice and whatever else her body has to offer.
Winter lies limp on the mattress, her legs still spread, her holes still gaping, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Her mouth moves, forming silent words. You catch fragments: "Daddy… thank you… your whore… your fucking whore…"
In the corner, Minho is sobbing openly, his face buried in his hands, the chastity cage still locked tight around his useless cock.
Mina walks over to the bed and looks down at Winter with an expression of clinical fascination. "She's completely broken," she says, almost admiringly. "You actually did it."
"We're not done." You wipe your cock on the sheets and stand up, your legs a little unsteady. "Minho hasn't learned his lesson yet."
Minho's head snaps up at that. His face is streaked with tears, his eyes red, his expression one of pure, naked terror. "What—what else could you possibly do—"
"Winter." Your voice cuts through the room. "Crawl."
She moves before she even seems to think about it. Rolling off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the floor, her cum-leaking cunt still on display, her asshole still gaping and twitching. She looks up at you with those vacant, adoring eyes, waiting for her next command.
Minho stares at her. At what she's become.
"Mina," you say, "I think Minho needs a closer look at what happens when you betray the people who love you. Put him on his knees."
Mina grabs Minho by the hair and drags him off the chair. He lands hard on his knees, the cage rattling against his thighs, and Mina keeps her grip on his hair, forcing his head up, forcing him to watch.
"Winter," you say, stepping closer to Minho's kneeling form, "open your mouth."
She opens it. Wide. Tongue out. Waiting.
You guide your cock—still slick, still half-hard—past her lips and into her throat in one smooth motion. She gags but doesn't resist, her hands coming up to cup your balls, her eyes fluttering closed in something like bliss.
"Look at her," you say to Minho, fucking Winter's face with slow, leisurely strokes. "This is what she is now. A set of holes for me to use. A cumdump that exists to serve my pleasure. You wanted her? You can have what's left when I'm done."
Minho's sobs fade into a low, keening whine. The cage rattles as his body tries, one more time, to get hard. Mina strokes his hair almost gently, shushing him like a child, her dark eyes glittering with satisfaction.
Winter moans around your cock, her throat working, her tongue pressing against the underside of your shaft, and you feel yourself starting to thicken again. Starting to get hard in the warm, wet suction of her mouth.
We're just getting started, you think, looking down at the ruined woman on her knees, the crying man locked in his cage, and the cold-eyed woman who helped you put them both there.
And you smile.
"Round three, anyone?"
Winter doesn't move. Not at first.
Her mouth is still full of your cock, her lips stretched around the base, her throat working to swallow the saliva and pre-cum pooling on her tongue. But her eyes—those vacant, glassy, utterly broken eyes—flick to the side. Toward Minho. Toward Mina. Toward the air between them where something new is about to be born.
You pull out slowly, letting her mouth make that wet, sucking sound. A string of spit bridges your cock to her lower lip, gleaming under the lamplight.
"You want something," you say. Not a question.
Winter nods. Her chest heaves. The smeared mascara makes her look like a doll left out in the rain. "Please," she whispers, and her voice is hoarse, wrecked, barely there. "Please fuck me again."
"Beg better."
"Please, daddy." The words tumble out faster now, desperate, her body swaying forward on her knees like she can't help herself. "Please use my holes. Please fill me up again. I need it. I need your cock inside me—"
"Which hole?"
Her tongue darts out, wetting her cracked lips. "All of them. Any of them. My cunt. My mouth. My—" She hesitates, and something flickers in her expression. Shame. Anticipation. "My ass. Please fuck my ass again, daddy. I want it. I want to feel you stretching me open."
You glance at Mina. She's watching Winter with those dark, calculating eyes, one eyebrow arched, her arms still crossed over her chest. The red dress hugs her lean frame, and the curve of her hip catches the lamplight in a way that would be distracting if you weren't so focused on the woman kneeling at your feet.
"Not good enough," Mina says. Her voice is cool. Clinical. "She can beg better than that. Show us how much you want it, Winter. Show us what a desperate little anal whore you've become."
Winter looks up at you, and for a moment you see the old Minjeong in there—proud, stubborn, the girl who argued with you about everything. But she's drowning in whatever this new thing is, swallowed up by the ruined, leaking, trembling creature she's become.
And then she does something unexpected.
She reaches behind herself with both hands, gripping her own ass cheeks, and pulls them apart. Wide. So wide the skin goes taut, so wide you can see everything—her cunt, still swollen and slick and dripping your cum onto the floor; her asshole, still loose from the fucking you gave it, a dark pink gape that twitches in the open air.
"Please," she says, and her voice cracks on the word. "Please fuck my ass. I'll do anything. I'll be anything. Just please—please don't leave me empty."
The sight of her like that—on her knees, spreading herself open, begging for more punishment—hits you somewhere deep. Your cock twitches, swelling, already half-hard again despite the two loads you've pumped into her body tonight.
But you don't move.
"I don't know," you say, letting the words drag out. "You've already had my cock twice. Maybe you don't deserve a third."
"I do. I do deserve it. I've been bad—I've been so bad—but I can be good. I can be so good for you, daddy."
Mina makes a dismissive sound. "Good? You've been a cheating whore for four months and you think a few rounds of punishment makes you good?" She uncrosses her arms and takes a step closer to Winter's kneeling form. "You want to prove you're sorry? You want to prove you deserve his cock in your ass? Then you're going to have to do something for me."
Winter's hands are still gripping her own ass, still holding herself open. Her eyes roll up to Mina's face, nervous and eager and afraid all at once.
"What?" Winter breathes. "What do I have to do?"
Mina reaches into the small clutch purse she's been holding—you hadn't even noticed it until now—and pulls out something that glints in the lamplight. A cock ring. Steel. Thick. And from the way it catches the light, intentionally small.
"Minho's been sitting over there crying like a bitch," Mina says, turning the ring over in her manicured fingers. "His little cage is keeping him from getting hard, but it's not really punishment, is it? Not real punishment. This, though…" She holds up the ring, letting Winter see how tight it is. "This will hurt. You're going to take his cage off. You're going to put this on him. And you're going to make it tight."
From the corner, Minho makes a strangled sound. "Mina—no—please—"
"Shut up." Mina doesn't even look at him. Her eyes stay fixed on Winter. "You do this, and you can have all the cock you want. You refuse…" She shrugs, the gesture elegant and cruel. "You stay empty. Your choice."
Winter's hands drop from her ass. She stares at the ring like it's a live grenade. Her breathing has gone shallow, her chest rising and falling in quick little bursts that make her tits jiggle. You can see her thinking—or trying to, anyway, through the fog of arousal and exhaustion and whatever's left of her shattered mind.
"Minho…" she whispers, and she turns her head toward the corner where he kneels.
He looks at her with desperate, pleading eyes. His face is a mess of tears, his jaw slack, his whole body slumped in defeat. The cage is still locked around his limp cock, and his balls have swollen against the metal ring, turning an angry shade of purple. "Winter, don't—you don't have to—"
But Winter is already moving.
She crawls. Not toward you. Not toward Mina. Toward Minho.
Her knees make soft thumping sounds against the hardwood floor, and her leaking cunt leaves a trail of moisture in her wake. Minho tries to scramble backward, but there's nowhere to go—the wall is behind him, and Mina's cold laughter is all around him, and Winter is closing in with something feral in her eyes.
"Hold him," Mina commands.
You grab Minho by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall. He struggles, but he's weak—hours of crying and humiliation have sapped whatever strength he had. Winter reaches him and kneels between his spread thighs, her fingers trembling as they find the tiny padlock on the chastity cage.
"I'm sorry," Winter is murmuring, over and over, a broken mantra. "I'm sorry, Minho, I'm so sorry—"
"Then don't do it—" He's crying again, fresh tears cutting tracks through the dried salt on his cheeks. "Winter, please, I love you—I love you—"
The words hang in the air like smoke.
Winter freezes. Her fingers, still wrapped around the cage, go still. She looks up at Minho's face, and for one long, suspended moment, something passes between them. The memory of whatever they had. The secret glances. The forbidden touches. The four months of betrayal.
Then her expression hardens.
"You don't love me," she says, and her voice is steadier than it's been all night. "You loved my cunt. You loved my mouth. You loved sneaking around behind everyone's backs. You never loved me."
She rips the cage off.
Minho yelps as his cock springs free—still soft, still pathetic, the flesh pale and shriveled from hours of confinement. Winter doesn't give him time to adjust. She grabs the steel ring from Mina's outstretched hand and shoves it over the head of his limp dick with a roughness that makes him scream.
"That's not tight enough," Mina observes, leaning against the wall. "Tighter."
Winter's fingers work the ring down his shaft, past the ridge of the head, down to the base. She pulls the adjustment mechanism—a tiny screw that Mina must have designed herself—and cranks it.
Minho's scream this time is animal. Guttural. His whole body jerks, and you have to press harder to keep him pinned. The ring is so tight now that his cock has started to swell involuntarily, the restricted blood flow making the flesh bulge against the steel. His balls look ready to burst. His face has gone white as paper.
"Good girl," Mina says, and her voice is practically purring. "Now back to your master."
Winter doesn't hesitate. She lets go of Minho's trapped cock and crawls back to you on all fours, her ass swaying, her holes still gaping and dripping. When she reaches your feet, she presses her forehead to the floor between them, her hair pooling around her like spilled honey.
"Please," she whimpers. "I did it. I punished him. Now please—please fuck me. Use me. Use my ass. Use whatever you want. I'm your dog. I'm your fucking bitch."
Behind her, Minho is sobbing—great, heaving cries that shake his whole frame. The ring glints around his swollen cock, and you can see the veins bulging, the head turning a deeper, more dangerous purple. Mina watches him with satisfaction, her arms crossed, her dark eyes glittering.
"Look at me," you say.
Winter lifts her head. Her face is a ruin—mascara, tears, spit, cum—but underneath all that, there's something new. Something that wasn't there an hour ago. She's not just broken. She's remade. Whatever you've been building tonight, it's finished now.
She licks her lips and leans forward, pressing her tongue flat against the head of your cock. The contact is soft. Worshipful. She drags her tongue down the underside of your shaft, tracing the vein, then back up to circle the tip. Her eyes never leave yours.
"Please," she breathes against your skin, and the word vibrates through your whole body. "Please, daddy. I'm ready. I'm so ready. Give your dog what she needs."
Her tongue works you with slow, reverent strokes—licking, lapping, bathing every inch of your cock in warm saliva. She takes the head between her lips and suckles, her cheeks hollowing, and the gentle suction makes your breath catch. She's learned. She's learned so fast. No more hesitation. No more resistance. Just pure, desperate worship.
"Fuck," you mutter, fisting your hand in her hair.
Winter moans around your cock, and the sound is so hungry, so grateful, that you feel yourself getting fully hard in her mouth. She pulls off with a wet pop, a bridge of spit stretching from her lip to your tip, and looks up at you with those empty, adoring eyes.
"My ass," she whispers. "Please. I need it. I need to feel you stretch me open again. I need to feel your cum inside me."
"Mina," you say, your voice rough. "What do you think? Has she earned it?"
Mina pushes off the wall and walks over, her heels clicking against the floor. She looks down at Winter—at the woman who was her rival, her enemy, the whore who fucked her boyfriend—and smiles. It's not a kind smile. It's the smile of a woman who's gotten exactly what she wanted.
"She's earned it," Mina says. "But I want to watch up close. And I want him to watch too." She jerks her head toward Minho, still crumpled against the wall, still crying, his cock trapped in its metal ring. "I want him to see every inch slide into her. I want him to hear her scream. Can you do that for me, Winter?"
Winter nods frantically, her hair flying around her face. "Yes. Yes. Whatever you want. I'll scream. I'll scream so loud the neighbors hear. Just please—please let me have his cock—"
You grab her by the hair and drag her toward the bed. She scrambles on all fours, not even trying to stand, her knees thumping against the floor, her tits swaying with every frantic movement. You lift her and throw her onto the mattress face-first, and she immediately positions herself—ass up, face down, knees spread wide. Her hands reach back and grip her own cheeks, pulling them apart, presenting her holes to you like an offering.
"Here," Winter pants, her voice muffled by the sheets. "Take it. It's yours. It's all yours. I'm yours. I'm your fucking dog."
SilentAkuma @thesilentakuma - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
