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Tags : Pet play, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Face-fucking, Vaginal sex, Anal sex, Creampie, Sex against window, Recording, Praise kink, Dirty talk, Orgasm control, Cum play
Words : 3120
The summons came through her private phone at 9:47 PM — a single message from a number saved under a name no one else would recognize.
My office. Now.
Sohyun's pulse kicked against her ribs in that familiar way, half nerves and half thirst. She was already dressed for it — she'd known, somehow, when she chose the white camisole this morning instead of the thicker blouse. Tight enough to show the shape of her breasts through the fabric, the outline of her nipples visible if the light hit right. The low-waist brown pants sat below her navel, a strip of bare skin showing above the waistband. She'd painted her nails two nights ago, pink-lavender, running a brush along each with care, imagining his hands holding hers to examine them.
She slipped the black cardigan over her shoulders — open, never buttoned — and grabbed her bag. Told her roommate she forgot something in the practice room. The lie came easy now.
The company building was mostly dark on the upper floors. Security knew her face, waved her through. The elevator hummed ascending, and she watched her reflection in the polished brass doors — the flush already rising across her collarbone, the soft wet heat beginning between her thighs.
She knocked on his door. Three light taps.
Come in, pet.
He never said it aloud. It was always in the message that appeared on her phone after she knocked. She pushed the door open.
The office took up the whole corner of the fifteenth floor. City lights bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul spread out below like circuitry. His desk sat at the far end, mahogany, spotless except for a single lamp casting amber light across the surface. Bookshelves lined one wall. A dark gray couch against another.
He sat behind the desk, watching her enter. Dark suit jacket draped over the chair behind him, sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his forearms. The silver glint at his temples caught the lamplight. His eyes moved over her slowly, deliberately, the way a man checks something he owns for damage.
"Lock it," he said.
She turned the deadbolt. The click echoed.
"Come here."
She walked toward the desk, and he watched every step — the sway of her hips, the way her bare stomach tensed with each stride. When she reached the edge of the desk, he held up one hand.
"Stop."
She stopped.
"Look at me."
She raised her eyes. His gaze pinned her where she stood, and she felt it everywhere — between her legs, in the tightening of her nipples against the camisole, in the way her breath shortened without her permission.
"You've been good today?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Tell me."
"I was good today. I did everything you asked. I thought about you during the video shoot. I thought about coming here."
"Thought about what would happen when you did?"
She nodded, her cheeks burning.
"Use your words."
"Yes. I thought about what you'd do to me."
Something shifted in his face — not softening, but deepening. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a strip of black leather. Thin, maybe half an inch wide. A small silver O-ring at the end.
"Come around."
She walked around the desk, her legs unsteady. He turned in his chair to face her, and she stood between his knees, close enough to smell his cologne — sandalwood and something metallic, like clean coins.
He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His thumb ran across her cheekbone, feather-light. She leaned into his touch.
"You're so beautiful," he said quietly, and the shift in his voice — from command to something softer — made her chest ache. "Every time I see you, it surprises me. That you're real. That you're here."
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm always here."
His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair at the nape. He tilted her head back gently, studying her face like a painting.
"I know, baby. I know." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft, lingering. "You're my good girl. My perfect little pet."
She felt the words in her stomach, warm and liquid.
"Will you wear this for me?"
He held up the leash. The silver buckle caught the lamplight.
"Yes," she said. "Please."
His hands were gentle as he fastened the collar around her neck — a second, thinner strap of black leather fitted to her throat, the O-ring resting just below her Adam's apple. He buckled it at the back, his fingers brushing her nape. Then he clipped the leash to the ring, and the weight of it tugged forward slightly.
"There."
He sat back, holding the leather coiled loosely in his fist. She watched his chest rise and fall with a slow breath. His eyes were dark, reverent.
"Look at you."
She felt the collar against her skin, the leash a line of tension between them. Her pulse beat against the leather.
"On your knees, pet."
She sank slowly, her knees meeting the carpet. The leash went slack as she descended. She looked up at him from the floor, her hands resting on her thighs.
"Good girl." His thumb traced her lower lip, pressing slightly. She parted her mouth, and he slid his thumb inside. She sucked gently, watching his eyes darken. "That's it. You know what to do."
He pulled his thumb free, wet and glistening, and wiped it across her lower lip.
"Undo my pants."
Her fingers found his belt — familiar now, practiced. The leather tongue slid free, the button popped, the zipper descended. She pulled his pants open and his cock sprang up against his stomach, already hard. The sight of it sent a pulse through her cunt. Thick, veined, the head flushed dark, a bead of pre-cum pearled at the slit.
She licked her lips without thinking.
"You want it?"
"Yes. Please. I want to taste you."
"Then show me how hungry you are. Open."
She opened her mouth wide, tongue flat and waiting. He guided the head to her lips and she took him in, slow, savoring the first stretch of her lips around his girth. Her tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft, tracing the ridge of a vein. She heard his breath catch above her.
"Fuck. Yeah. Just like that."
She sank deeper, taking him inch by inch, her throat relaxing to accept him. Her nose reached his pelvis and she held there, her throat full, her eyes watering. She looked up at him — the leash still in his grip, the city lights behind him — and the sight made her cunt clench around nothing.
He let her set the rhythm at first, watching her bob her head along his length. Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. Saliva ran down her chin, slick and obscene. She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, and the sounds — wet, hungry, desperate — filled the office.
"That's my girl," he groaned, his hips beginning to rock. "Look at you. On your knees. Leashed. Taking my cock down your throat like you were made for it."
She moaned around him, the vibration making his grip tighten on the leash.
"You were made for it, weren't you? Made for me."
She pulled off just long enough to gasp, "Yes. Made for you. Only for you," before taking him back, deeper this time, pushing past her gag reflex and feeling her throat stretch around the head of his cock.
His hand moved to her hair, gathering the long black strands in his fist. "Deep breath, pet."
She inhaled through her nose, and he thrust upward, burying himself fully in her throat. She felt his pelvis against her face, his balls against her chin. The pressure was everything — the fullness, the submission, the way her throat pulsed around him. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them.
He held her there for three heartbeats, four, five. Then he pulled back, letting her breathe, and the air hit her raw throat like a burn.
"Good. So good." He stroked her hair, his voice thick. "Again."
She took him again, and again, each time deeper, her throat loosening, her hunger growing. Saliva soaked the front of her camisole, the white fabric clinging to the swell of her breasts. Her hands moved to her own body — one gripping her thigh, the other pressing between her legs, rubbing herself through the brown pants.
He caught her wrist. "No. That's mine. You don't touch without permission."
She whined, pulling off his cock. "Please. I need—"
"I know what you need. Turn around. Hands on the window."
She pushed to her feet, unsteady, her legs shaking. The leash stayed clipped to her collar as she crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window. Seoul spread below her, thousands of lights, thousands of people with no idea what was happening behind this glass. The thought made her dizzy.
She placed her palms flat against the cool glass. Her reflection stared back — flushed, wrecked, the collar dark against her throat.
Behind her, she heard his belt unbuckle fully, his pants drop. She didn't turn.
"Arch your back."
She pushed her hips out, bending at the waist, pressing her chest toward the glass. Her breasts flattened against the cool surface, her nipples tightening into hard peaks against the camisole. The brown pants were pulled tight across her ass.
He stepped behind her and ran one hand down her spine, over the curve of her ass, gripping the flesh hard. His other hand yanked her pants and underwear down to her mid-thighs, exposing her. The air hit her wet cunt and she shivered.
"Look at you. So wet for me. So ready."
She felt his cock slide between her thighs, not entering, just dragging through her slickness, coating himself. She pushed back against him, trying to take him in, but he held her hips still.
"Ask me."
"Please," she gasped. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me."
"Inside where?"
"My pussy. Please put your cock in my pussy. I need it so bad."
"Good girl."
He lined up and pushed in, one slow, relentless inch at a time. Her cunt stretched around him, gripping, pulling him deeper. She cried out, her forehead pressing against the window. The city spread below, indifferent.
"Fuck, you're tight," he growled, his hands gripping her hips. "Every time. Like you've never been touched."
He bottomed out, his pelvis against her ass, and stayed there. She felt him pulsing inside her, felt the fullness reaching deep into her belly.
"Look at yourself."
She raised her eyes to her reflection — the girl in the window, collared, pants around her thighs, breasts flattened against the glass, a man buried inside her. Her own face, slack with pleasure, eyes half-lidded.
"See what you are," he said, beginning to move. Slow, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive inch of her walls. "You're my pet. My perfect little whore. You belong to me."
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I'm yours."
He fucked her slow at first, each thrust deliberate, watching himself disappear into her body. Her breasts pressed and dragged against the cold glass, the friction through the camisole making her nipples ache. Her hands slid on the window as she braced against each impact.
Then his pace quickened, his grip tightening on her hips hard enough to bruise. The sounds — his skin slapping against hers, her moans, the wet noise of his cock pumping into her — filled the office.
"Harder," she begged. "Please, harder."
He gave it to her. His thrusts turned punishing, deep and fast, driving her into the glass. Her breath fogged the window in front of her face. Her tits bounced with each impact, pressed flat then released, the camisole soaked with sweat and saliva.
"Whose pussy is this?"
"Yours. All yours."
"Say my name."
"CEO," she gasped. "Sir—"
"No. My name."
She knew it. He'd given it to her in the dark of his bed one night, whispered against her hair. She'd never said it to anyone else.
"Jaeho," she breathed.
His rhythm stuttered. He leaned over her, his chest against her back, his mouth at her ear.
"Again."
"Jaeho. Please. Please don't stop."
He didn't. He drove into her, faster, harder, the head of his cock hitting that deep spot inside her that made her vision blur. Her orgasm coiled tight in her gut, building with each stroke.
"I'm close," she whimpered. "I'm gonna—"
"Not yet. Not until I tell you."
She tried to hold it back, her muscles clenching around him, her whole body trembling. He reached around and pressed his fingers against her clit through the fabric of her panties, still bunched at her thighs.
"You want to come?"
"Yes. Yes, please."
"Then come for me. Come on my cock like a good pet."
He pressed hard on her clit and thrust deep, and she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through her, her cunt clenching and pulsing around him, her scream muffled against the glass. Her legs gave out but he held her up, still fucking her through it, drawing every wave out of her body.
When she came back to herself, she was slumped against the window, barely standing. Her reflection stared back, wrecked and beautiful.
He pulled out slowly, and she felt the absence like a loss.
"Don't move."
She stayed where she was, face against the glass, ass still exposed. She heard the drawer open — the soft click she recognized. The camera.
"Jaeho—"
"Shh. I know. You're so beautiful like this. I want to keep it."
She didn't argue. She never did. She heard the tiny red light come on.
"Show me your ass."
She pushed her hips back, presenting herself. The air was cool on her wet, swollen cunt.
"Spread yourself."
Her hand reached back, fingers finding her own skin, pulling her ass cheek aside. She heard him exhale, slow and reverent.
"Perfect." A soft click. "Now touch yourself. Show me how wet you are."
Her fingers slid through her slickness, gathering it, spreading it. She felt her own heat, the sheen of her arousal.
"Put your fingers in your mouth."
She obeyed, tasting herself on her tongue. Salty and sweet.
"Get on the couch. On your hands and knees."
She crawled across the carpet, the leash trailing behind her. The leather was damp and warm against her neck. She climbed onto the gray couch, positioning herself on her knees, her ass in the air.
He moved behind her, the camera still recording. She heard him spit, heard the wet sound of him working it into her.
"Open for me, pet."
She felt his thumb press against her asshole, circling, pressing gently until the ring of muscle gave way. She gasped, her fingers gripping the couch cushions.
"You want it here?"
"Yes. Please. I want you in my ass."
"Beg."
"Please, Jaeho. Please fuck my ass. I want to feel you there. I want to be so full of you. Please."
He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with the head of his cock, pressing slowly. She felt the stretch — different from her cunt, tighter, more intense. Her breath came in sharp gasps as he pushed past the first resistance.
"Breathe," he said, his voice strained. "Let me in."
She forced herself to relax, to open, and he slid deeper. The sensation was overwhelming — fullness and pressure and a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out.
"That's it. Taking me so well. All the way, baby."
He seated himself fully inside her, his pelvis flush against her ass. She felt impossibly full, stretched, claimed.
"Look at the camera."
She turned her head, finding the lens. Her eyes were glassy, her makeup smeared, her lips swollen and wet.
"Tell me who you belong to."
"You," she whispered. "I belong to you."
He began to move, slow thrusts that made her whole body rock. The camera captured everything — the way her ass rippled with each impact, the leash swinging against her throat, the wet sound of him sliding in and out of her.
He fucked her ass with increasing urgency, his breathing ragged, his composure cracking. She pushed back into each thrust, taking him as deep as he could go, wanting all of him.
"I'm going to come," he warned. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside. Please. Fill me up."
"You want my cum in your ass?"
"Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to be full of you."
He drove into her one last time, buried to the hilt, and she felt his cock pulse inside her as he came. Hot, thick, endless. She felt each spurt, felt her body accepting it, claiming it. She moaned at the sensation — being filled, being marked from the inside.
When he finished, he stayed inside her for a long moment, both of them breathing hard. Then he pulled out slowly, and she felt the emptiness, felt the warmth of his cum beginning to leak out of her. It ran down her inner thigh, a slow trickle.
She collapsed sideways onto the couch, her body giving out completely. Her limbs felt like water. The leash lay coiled on the cushion beside her.
He set the camera down and knelt beside the couch. His hand found her hair, stroking gently, pushing the strands back from her face.
"You did so well, baby. So perfect."
She couldn't answer. Her body was still trembling, small aftershocks rolling through her muscles. She felt the cum seeping out of her, pooling on the cushion beneath her. The sensation was obscene and perfect.
He lifted her legs onto the couch and covered her with his suit jacket, the expensive fabric draping over her nakedness. He sat on the floor beside her, his back against the couch, his hand never leaving her hair.
"I love you," he said quietly. "You know that, right?"
She turned her head, her cheek against the cushion, looking at him through half-closed eyes. The city lights painted his face in gold and shadow.
"I love you too," she whispered. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For wanting me. All of me. Even this part."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, her temple, the corner of her mouth.
"This part is my favorite part. Because this part is only mine."
She smiled, small and dreamy, her body still humming with spent pleasure. The cum continued to leak out of her, warm against her skin. The camera's red light glowed silently from the desk, capturing her in the aftermath — limp, full, utterly owned.
A/N: Prompt for @azelfty and @jmuns-kpop. Thank you for hosting this round's prompt!
Fanprose link here.
Enjoy.
“Naky, isn’t that like a thousand bucks?”
“It’s two hundred bucks, actually,” she corrects, sitting down next to you and proudly showing off the box that she brought back with her. With your own card, if the notification of it being swiped was anything to come by. “Won’t even dent your wallet!”
It definitely does. The idea of you buying that new horror game goes down the drain, but there's worse things to lose.
“Did you even try it out before buying it?” you ask, eyeing the words written in pink. Brainwave cat ears, it says in cartoonish pink letters, with an image of what the supposed product is.
“Nope!” It's only one word, and yet you can't help but sigh at it. Confidence through the roof in her words as she starts to unbox her new toy. “I thought it was cool so I cashed in what you owe me and bought it.”
Least she didn’t break the bank too hard with the purchase. She's been hanging that over your head for a while and you were getting a little angsty over what she'll use your card for.
“So, what, you saw some people using it and thought you’d get one of your own?” You had the feeling you already knew the answer, but it never hurts to ask.
“Kinda?” Her hands stop moving. “Do the people in the TV count?”
That stumped you for a good moment. Can't really blame the adverts for doing their job, so all you can answer is—
“I mean, I guess so.”
You watch her yank the plastic away from the unit, grab the big white cat ears and attach them to the band with an array of sensors before showcasing it to you like she's selling the thing to you.
“See? It looks cool,” Nakyoung reiterates, carefully placing it on her head, giving the side a few taps to turn the thing on. The contraption whirs to life, giving those relaxing beeps before the ears start to move. It perks up, the ears tilting and drooping. “Wait, what's it doing?”
“I don’t know, but at least you know it’s not a fake.” You look around the box, grabbing the manual and flipping through it, landing on what—”Looks like it's calibrating. Give it a few and it'll make another beep.”
“Okay!” She looks positively ecstatic waiting for it, grinning widely at you as she waits. You shake your head as her patience, and by extension, her attention to it slowly fade away.
She notices it, of course. Sees your fond smile pointed straight at her. For how troublesome she can be, which is arguably on the side of ‘very’, considering how adorably gullible she is half the time. Yet it's part of her charm, and you would not do a damn thing to change any of it.
“What?” Nakyoung smiles, her head resting on her palm, arm supported by the sofa back.
You chuckle. “Nothing. Just–” Your fingers come up to her chin, thumb rubbing her cheek. “Thought it looks cute on you.”
“Aw–oh I can feel it moving!” She’s bouncing in joy, making her look a hell of a lot cuter than she normally already does. “It's working, it's working!”
There's that faint whirring in her head, the beeping on the side of the contraption she bought not even an hour ago showing you that it is, in fact, working. The white ears move from side to side as she laughs.
“I told you it works!” The grin on her face isn’t leaving anytime soon, and you’re grinning right back at her. She starts doing this little happy dance, closed eyes and pursed lips while her arms wave in the air.
You smile, leaning back into the couch as she continues on in her own little world. The ears on her head dance alongside her antics, reinforcing how happy she is. “Alright, you've sold me.”
Your hand reaches up to pat her head, and she freezes. Her eyes shoot open, her arms stop swaying and the cat ears perk up.
Her hair gets ruffled as you rub her head, and the ears slowly begin wiggling again. “That's nice,” she utters, her head leaning forward. Her arms come to rest in her lap, fingers getting twitchy. Teeth come to bite her lower lip, her body inching closer and closer to you.
The light on the side blinking blue, the cat ears never cease their excited shaking, letting you know how delighted she feels with each pat and rub of her hair. Nakyoung's almost pressing up against you, wanting your touch.
You never thought about it before, but she acts eerily similar to a cat. Has the features of one too, the headband supporting that idea. Which, again, leaves you to ask her—
“Do you like this, kitten?”
The nickname sounded foreign coming out of you. More so that you’ve never once called her anything other than her name and the occasional variation of ‘babe’. You certainly see the appeal of the pet name when the ears on her head noticeably tilt faster, red warming her cheeks.
“W-What?” she squeaks out, thighs pressing together.
“I said–” Your free hand reaches towards one of her said thighs, covered by the soft denim as you slide upwards to her waist. “If you like this, kitten.”
“I-I–” She doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Too caught up in her mind to give you a verbal answer, but you know better. Seen this happen enough times to know what she's thinking.
Plus the headband going haywire gives you enough of an idea to keep going.
“Come here.” You pull your hands back, parting your legs and giving your lap a good pat. “On my lap, kitten.”
Nakyoung doesn't say a word as she shifts, getting up for a moment before she settles across your lap. Her back leaning back against your chest as you wrap your arms around her.
“Good kitten.” The cat ears give a tilt. You wonder how much charge it has left, considering it's newly bought and neither Nakyoung nor the place she bought it from probably didn't bother charging it first.
That does give you a very unorthodox way of finding out how long it can stay on.
“Wanna play a game, Naky?” you ask, hands coming to rest on her hips.
She turns back to look at you. “What kind of game?”
“Oh, you know–” You’re being coy with it. “Just a fun little Q and A.”
Her ears stand straight. “Like an interview?”
“Nothing too formal, kitten,” you chuckle, letting her get comfy on your lap. “Wanted to see if those ears really work.”
She’s a little suspicious of you, turning to you with narrow eyes and a raised brow. “But they do work.”
“You don’t want to see if it can be a lie detector too?” You give her hips a slight squeeze. The bullshit dripping off your lips could land you an acting career somewhere. “Could be a cool add on for it, don’t you think?”
The doubt in her eyes disappear, her expression perking up. “That does sound cool–” The ears tilt slowly. “So I just–what, answer your questions?”
“Honestly,” you add, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “And sit pretty on my lap.”
Nakyoung blushes, giving your arm a pinch while she nods. “Okay, okay.”
You lean back, pulling her with you as you let out a hum. Trying to think of a simple question to start things off. You don’t notice your thumbs tracing small circles against her sides, causing her ears to twitch again.
“I got one,” you start, making Nakyoung sit up straighter. “Did you eat my yogurt last night?”
“Wh-What?” she stutters, not expecting that question from you. “No.”
You can see the ears droop. “Naky…”
“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admits. Folding so easily under the slightest pressure, this girl. “But I was hungry and we didn’t have any instant ramen left and–”
“Babe, relax,” you laugh, giving her waist a poke. “I only wanted to find out if you did. You’re not in trouble.”
You try to ignore the urge to ask her why the ears decided to droop further instead of perking up as you thought it should have, since finding out that one not doing anything wrong would warrant a good reaction instead of a sad one.
Odd.
Shrugging it off, you keep the questions coming. Asking her things such as if she actually did convince her friend to get back together with her ex (you still don’t know what to feel about that one), she likes sitting on your lap (she does, especially when she falls asleep while she is), and a few more mundane ones. Letting her get more comfortable as the game goes on.
The headband helps find out if she's telling the truth or not. And if it doesn't, it certainly tells you that she's slowly getting more and more excited, the ears beginning to find the pace in its movements. Her entire demeanor is relaxed against you, happy to be in your hold.
But you know better. You feel her pressing harder against your lap whenever she shifts her weight. The ears turning downwards when you didn't get annoyed at finding out she forgot to buy detergent for this week's laundry earlier. The very same ears that immediately perk up when you gave her a small bop to the head and told her to buy them tomorrow.
It’s happened a few times now, where you think she’s going to be scolded from you finding out about something clumsy she’s done. You're not even sure she notices, or if she feels the ears reflecting what she really wants out of you. And seeing as this is the third time that it's happened, maybe you should start asking the real questions.
“Do you like it when I get a little rough with you?” You almost let out a laugh at how fast Nakyoung stiffens, the cats on the head following suit.
“W-What kind of question is that?” she stammers, trying to twist around to look at you. Your hold on her tightens, denying her of it as she wiggles around. “H-Hey–”
“Answer the question, kitten,” you urge, the pet name coming back, your back meeting the couch rest. Pulling her with you as you get a little handsy with her. Teasing her waist, creeping higher to brush underneath her breasts where you let them rest.
She bites her lip, squirming under your grasp. “M-Maybe–” She gets cut off when your hands come to cup her tits, giving them a squeeze.
“Yes or no, kitten,” you say, a hand leaving her chest to rest on her thighs, parting a leg slowly. “Don’t be shy, now.”
She only lets out a whine, her back arching to have more of your touch. She reaches out to your wrists, steadying herself as you continue your assault on her body. Enjoying the soft flesh underneath all the cloth, your fingers kneading her chest, your other hand circling between her thighs. “P-Please–” she chokes up, her head lolling to meet your gaze, eyes pleading with you.
“Please what, hmm?” You smile, taking a look at the ears that are wiggling as you pause your teasing. “I’m not hearing what I want, kitten.”
Nakyoung only nods rapidly, pursing her lips at you. The blush in her cheeks a deep shade of red, her ears on her head matching her answer. Yet you want to hear it. Not with some silly toy or some gestures, no. You want her to admit it.
“With your words, kitten,” you demand, your lips inches away from her ear. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I-I do,” she confesses, and the moan that follows as you continue touching her body so aggressively sounded so obscene it makes you throb. “I love it–love it when you touch me like this–”
“Like what?” Your fingers unbutton her shorts, pulling her zipper down excruciatingly slow.
“Like I’m a–” She licks her lips, eyes squeezing shut, feeling embarrassed at what the next set of words that comes out of her. “–a stupid slut that thinks about your cock all the time.”
Now, you won’t lie, Nakyoung is a klutz. It’s an endearing trait she has, and it’s half the reason you’ve fallen in love with her. But hearing her profess that she’s essentially an airhead that wants to get fucked stupid?
You won’t lie, you’ve never been harder in your life.
“Is that what you are?” Your fingers snake down her shorts, sliding down her panties until it reaches her wet folds. “My dumb little kitten?”
“Mhmm,” she hums, mewling as you circle her clit. Rubbing it lazily, as much as you could within the tight confines of her clothes. Then you push a single digit into her folds, and she’s moaning in your ear. “More, please, one’s not enough–”
“Silly kitten thinks she’s earned it,” you laugh, knowing that this isn’t what she wants. The ears on top of her head shaking quickly, even as you thrust painfully slow. “Do you? Have you earned it, you moronic bitch?”
“Yes!” she gasps, reaching down to clutch whatever she can of the couch, her ears gaining momentum. “I-I’ve done so many things wrong, I d-deserve it–please punish me master–” That’s new. And that alone is enough to make you fall deeper into this fucked up rabbit hole.
You use her panties as a sort of guide; pulling back as far as the fabric would allow you to before you shove three digits into her cunt. Wiggling them inside her walls, thrusting them without a care for her well-being, even as she starts to sob in relief. Your free hand comes to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up to expose her bra-covered tits. The nylon follows soon after, causing her beautiful pair of breasts to spill out.
“God, kitten, the things I would do to you,” you growl, your palm crashing against a tit, taking pleasure in seeing the flesh ripple at the impact. Your fingers don’t let up, abusing her poor, gushing pussy that would guarantee a pair of ruined panties. She’s trembling at the pleasure, unabashed at the incoherent noises she’s letting out.
“Let me–” she moans, shuddering at the next smack of her chest. “–M-me hear it, master. Wanna hear all the things you’d do to make me dumber, please–”
It’s irresistible, her begging. Add those fucking cat ears that are going on overdrive—the audible whirring as it tries to catch up with what Nakyoung is feeling, and you satiate the need that’s pooling in your groin.
You start it off by telling her that you’d be fucking her the first thing in the morning. Doesn’t matter if she’s awake by then, you want her to wake up getting dicked down on the bed until you cum, feeding your load straight into her mouth. You’d take her in the shower, fuck her right in front of the bathroom mirror where she can see herself get plowed, then make her scoop the cum that’ll inevitably drip down her abused cunt.
Every. Damn. Day.
Each pump of your fingers inside her signify a story—you'd make her choke on your cock whenever the mood hits, eat her pussy out in the most inconvenient times for her till she breaks, fucking your cum straight into her womb until she's begging for you to stop. Fuck, and you'd would take it all like a good kitten would, wouldn't you? Turn her into a mess everyday because all she wants is to be a toy for you.
It's degrading, you admit. Spouting such demeaning words to Nakyoung. Yet she clings onto every word as if it was gospel. Managing to stutter out her agreement, as if she’ll let you start making your dream into a reality the next morning. Her lips are curled into a grin as she listens to what you would do to her, drunk giggles mixed in with her moans telling you just how much she's wanting them too.
“Look at you,” you grunt, her walls clamping down on your fingers. “Must be so hard, trying to figure out how to get fucked.” Your pace grows faster, digits pumping faster, and she starts wailing on your lap, her grip tightening its hold on you. Your continued abuse of her chest reddens the soft pair, and you're leaving marks all over her neck as you continue whispering all your filthiest imaginations.
“Don't need to think so hard on it anymore, kitten,” you continue, sucking on a particular spot on her neck that gets her sobbing. You swipe your tongue across it, letting the hickey settle. “I'll fuck you stupid everyday until all you can think of will gonna be my cock inside you.” Nakyoung can only let this lewd symphony come out of her lips, singular words repeating on loop that makes you chuckle.
“Can't even talk anymore, can you, kitten? Already letting yourself be the stupid little bitch that you were meant to be. Fucking made to take cock like the dumb cocksleeve you are–”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes–”
“–And all you’ll ever think about is cumming your little brain out after this. Gonna use you every single minute I can cause that'll be all your good for, you fucking idiot–”
“Fuck, please please please–”
“I bet you wanna cum on my fingers. Do you, kitten? Come on, wanna see you lose it over some fingers and maybe, just maybe, I’ll use your mouth and paint that throat of yours–”
It starts to drive her mad—her eyes start to roll back, her tongue starting to loll out of her mouth, wailing unintelligible curses and noises and fuck she sounds absolutely, painfully magnificent as her climax hits. Legs straightening up and shaking as your fingers fuck her through it, your tempo unforgiving, her juices wetting your digits, her panties, her shorts—the white accessory sticking in her head been on max speed for the past however minutes.
“Good girl,” you praise, watching her come apart for you. Your fingers pull out to rub her clit instead, slowly letting her come off her high. You're kneading her breasts as you whisper how well she's done for you, kissing her neck and giving her a moment to breathe.
Nakyoung's eyes flutter open, panting as she cups your cheek, licking her lips to speak. “T-That was–” she sighs, letting out a disappointed whine as you stop your circling. “Wow.”
“You okay, kitten?” Your fingers leave her clit, pulling away from her legs and bringing them up to your face, admiring the way she's coated you.
“Uhuh.” She follows your gaze, looking at your wet palm before she leans forward to take your fingers into her lips. Tasting herself on them, licking away every drop of her juices. Taking each finger one by one until there's nothing left to clean. “I'm okay, master. Just–”
Nakyoung pauses, an adorable thinking noise coming off her, and you can almost hear the gears turn in her head at the same time as the whirring of the device (that you're still surprised hasn't died yet) on her head. She turns, looking straight at you, and asks:
“Can you make me choke on your dick next?”
Oh, she's completely lost her mind. Fucked in the head, gone absolute crazy after the whole debauchery you've let loose upon Nakyoung, and now she wants to make it a reality.
You had to raise an eyebrow at it. “You sure?” you ask, not wanting to push her so much, so quickly. “We can always–”
She interrupts you with a kiss. “I want to,” she whispers against your lips. “Don't hold back, master. Let me be a good kitten for you and suck on that cock like you said you’d make me, please?”
The ears sit still on her head, faintly tilting as she waits for you to answer. You can faintly spot the red beeping on the side of her head, though that's the least of your concerns because right now, all you can think of is Nakyoung's lips on your cock.
“On your knees,” you tell her, patting her legs. She’s getting up on quivering legs, and you’re holding onto her hips while she slowly kneels to the floor. You’re about to pull the ears off her head, but she stops you with a shake of her head.
“Leave it on,” she says, hands pulling her top off, coming to her back to unhook her bra and throwing it next to you, her tits in full display. She leans in close, where you can feel her breath on your groin. Lips inches away from the button of your pants as she rests her hands on your thighs. “Want to be your kitten for a bit longer.”
You want to tell her that you’re pretty sure that’s not how pet names work, but the words die in your throat when she starts to unbutton you with her teeth and loosening your pants. She does the same with your zipper, mouth clamping down on the metal, eyes looking up at you reverently, ears shaking steadily as she starts to pull the zipper down. Letting each pair of metallic teeth fall away, counting down the seconds before she’ll come fishing your cock from your pants.
Her hands grip onto your waistband, tugging them down to your ankles. Scooting closer, as much as she can to press up against you, nuzzling her cheek along your length. Her breath makes your thighs flex, your lips cursing as she gives you a lick upwards, ending up back to her pulling your underwear down with one smooth pull.
Your cock hits her square on the cheek, making her gasp. Her hand comes up to your side, and you’re fucking throbbing at the sight. Watching her tongue swipe through her lips, ears ramrod straight as she begins to salivate at your dick. She wraps a hand around your length, stroking you ever so slowly.
“Kitten–” Your hand rests on the back of her head, careful not to mess up the headband as you push her closer to your cock. Your patience is thin, your libido skyrocketing—you’d be surprised if you could last for long when all you want is to make Nakyoung gag on your length, make her cry as you abuse her beautiful face, have her guzzle your load down—
A wet squelch rings in the air, and you look down to see Nakyoung throating your entire length, your hold on her hair pushing her down until her nose meets your groin. Her hands grip your thighs, fighting the natural instinct to pull away as she looks up at you, unblinking as she gags once more. The faux fur on her head are swaying excitedly, the red light on the side blinking faster, and you had to let out a scoff in disbelief.
“This what you wanted?” you ask, tugging her back by her hair, and she gasps—chest heaving as air finally comes back in her lungs. It causes her breasts to look delectable, watching them get wet from all the spit falling down her chin, bouncing from every minor movement she does.
“Yes–” she rasps, slurping what saliva she can, spitting it back on your cock. “I want it back in my mouth, please–”
Both hands come to hold her head now, shoving her mouth back onto your cock, burying back deep into her throat, relishing in the sounds of her gags, the constricting of her throat alongside the moans she’s barely managing to let out. Using her head as a toy, pushing and pulling her down on your shaft, and you can almost spot the way her lips are curling up into a smile as you do so.
All the while you’re telling her how good she’s doing, taking you down that pretty throat of hers so well you would make her do this for you every day from now on.
“God, Naky, you really are made to take dick, aren't you? Look so perfect on your knees and being my silly little cumdump.” You'd use her like a cockwarmer, you tell her. Slide into that tight pussy of hers while you're working, let her squirm on your lap as you do meetings, then fold her in half straight after and blow your load inside.
Those ears perk up at your words, the tilting getting increasingly quicker at each filthy thing you promise her. “I’d fuck those lips whenever I want, kitten–” Didn’t matter where in the apartment you’d do it, but you would get her down on her knees for you at a snap of a finger. “Besides, isn’t this all you can think about? Cock inside my dumb kitten–” you groan, your thumb running over her cheek as a tear slips out of her eye. It makes you pull her off you, giving her another reprieve because you know that there won’t be another one until you’ve painted her tight throat white.
Her voice is hoarse when she answers, the most ruined you’ve ever seen her. “Yes,” she utters, giggles following soon after. “Want you to punish me all the time with this cock, master–” And she’s right back to swallowing you, head bobbing so fast that you let your control slip, your hips thrusting up to match her pace.
You can’t stop yourself—you don’t want to stop it. You’re so, so close to getting off, so close to making her swallow all that cum you’ve stored up in your balls. You’re meeting her each time she sheathes her cock down her throat, every thrust making the ears twist faster that you’d think they would overheat, fucking her face while you spout more profanities, more promises, more of Nakyoung getting what she fucking deserves like—
“–The good fucking kitten you are. Gonna make yo–fuck–make you drink down all this cum–”
She can only reply with garbled noises, your hips her only tether to reality as she's in her own world. Getting off to you abusing her throat, to hearing how you would ruin her next. She only spurs you on further, getting sloppier with her spit, running it down her chin without a care.
“Kitten, cumming–”
It sends you spiraling to the end, until you finally let yourself go. Forcing her back down until she’s met your groin, emptying yourself into her. Nakyoung’s eyes are rolling back her head, taking every throb of your cock, swallowing every drop of your cum until she has to pull back, the lasting remnants of your orgasm covering her face. Painting her lips, her cheek, her chin—her mouth wide open as you aim it to her outstretched tongue, jerking yourself off to feed her what remains of your load.
The sight makes you twitch. Inflamed cheeks, hazy eyes that try to focus on you. Spit, tears, and cum all mixed in and coating her face, strays falling down to her chest. The headband’s gone crooked on her head, the ears no longer moving, that faint noise coming off of it gone.
You’ve made Nakyoung into a complete mess, just like she’s made of you, slumping back into the couch. Catching your breath, letting your body recover from the aftershocks that she’s left on you. She’s resting her head on your thigh, your dick laid against her cheek as she lets out this dopey giggle, a hand coming up to finally take the cat ears off her head.
“Happy now, kitten?” you let out as she lets it clatter on the ground.
“I am,” she answers, closing her eyes for a moment. “Thank you, master.”
You hope she won't call you that in public. Which, knowing her, she'll do it to get a rise out of you, to get you to do this exact thing again, even if this has the possibility of becoming a regular thing for the both of you.
Your thoughts get interrupted when she's stirring awake, focus coming back into her eyes. “C-Can we–” Nakyoung's grinning up at you with this giddy, ditzy, borderline asinine look on her face. Her palm is cupping your balls, coming up to hold you by the base and giving herself a few wet slaps on the cheek.
“Can we do that again, master? Maybe–” She gives you a kiss right on the tip. “Maybe you can use my pussy next? Or, or my ass if you want to? You didn't say anything about my ass, master–Do you want me to prep it for you? I promise I can do it well–”
She's completely gone now, only thinking about where you wanna stick your cock in her next while worshipping your cock, prepping you for the next round.
And all you can think of is yeah, definitely going to be a regular thing.
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The air in the empty university corridor felt thin, charged. It smelled of old wax and the faint, metallic scent of rain. Your own breathing sounded loud in the oppressive quiet. They had you cornered. Four silhouettes against the fading daylight from the high windows.
Kim Nakyoung was the first to step into a sliver of light. Her smile was wide, almost friendly, but her eyes held a flicker of something sharper. “Hey, relax,” she said, her voice a cheerful contrast to the tension. “It’s just a bike. Fenders can be bent back.” She winked, but the gesture felt like a warning.
Then Park Sohyun moved. She didn’t walk; she flowed, a panther in black leather. The studs on her jacket gleamed dully. She stopped a pace away, close enough you could smell the leather of her gear and something else, something wild and floral—motor oil and jasmine. Her eyes, dark and glittering, held yours. She didn’t blink.
“Just a bike?” Sohyun’s voice was a low, velvet rumble. “You dented the heart of an Iron Rose. That’s not a fender. That’s a declaration.”
From the shadows to her right, Zhou Xinyu spoke. Her tone was colder, a blade of ice compared to Sohyun’s smoldering coal. “The cost of the part, plus labor, plus the insult… You’re a student. You don’t have that kind of money.” She stepped forward, her movements precise, analytical. She looked you over as if assessing salvage. “But you have something else. Time. Obedience.”
Your throat was dry. “I can… I can get a job. Pay you back in installments.”
Sohyun laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed off the lockers. “Installments?” She took the final step, eliminating the gap between you. You could feel the heat radiating from her. “This isn’t a bank, little mouse. This is the street. Debts are paid in blood, sweat, or service.”
Her gloved hand came up, and you flinched. But she didn’t strike. Instead, her thumb brushed slowly, deliberately, across your lower lip. The leather was cool and rough. Your whole world narrowed to that point of contact. A warm, unfamiliar pulse stirred low in your stomach.
“From now on,” Sohyun murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you belong to us. To me.”
“What does that mean?” you managed to ask, your own voice barely a whisper.
It was Nien who answered, stepping from behind Xinyu. You hadn’t even fully processed her presence until now. Your old study partner from Intro to Sociology. The quiet girl who always had her nose in a book. Gone was the oversized cardigan and timid smile. Her hair was shaved on one side, a brutal line against the dark fall on the other. Her eyes, once shy, were flat and assessing. “It means you run errands. You listen. You learn the rules.” A ghost of her old smile touched her lips, but it was all teeth. “Consider it a… practical education.”
Nakyong bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oh, it’ll be fun! We need a gofer. Someone to hold things, clean things…” Her gaze traveled over you with a new, appraising interest. “Fetch things.”
Xinyu’s voice cut through Nakyoung’s enthusiasm. “Your first lesson. Proximity.” She gestured to the space directly in front of Sohyun. “You do not stand at her. You stand for her. Which means you are close. You are alert. You anticipate.”
Sohyun’s thumb was still on your lip. Her other hand came up to cradle your jaw, her grip firm, unyielding. She tilted your face up to the light. Her gaze was everywhere—on your eyes, your mouth, the frantic jump of the pulse in your throat.
“He’s scared,” Nien observed, her tone clinical.
“Good,” Sohyun breathed out. “Fear is focus. But I don’t want terror. I want… anticipation.” Her eyes locked onto yours. The command in them was absolute. “Breathe.”
You sucked in a shaky breath.
“For me,” she amended, her voice a soft command.
You exhaled slowly, the air trembling out of you. Her approving hum vibrated through her fingers into your skin.
“Better.” She leaned in, her lips nearly brushing your ear. Her scent enveloped you—jasmine, leather, the faintest hint of gasoline. Her whisper was a private promise, a threat, a secret all at once. “This is how it starts. With a debt. With a word. With my hands on you, deciding where you go, what you do.” She pulled back just enough to see your face again. Her dark eyes were pools of intent. “You’ll wash the bikes. Not just Nakyoung’s. All of them. You’ll be at the garage by eight tomorrow. You’ll wear what we tell you to wear. You’ll answer when we call.”
She finally removed her thumb from your lip, but the sensation remained, branded there. She traced the line of your jaw down to your chin, her touch possessive.
“And if you’re very, very good,” Sohyun continued, her voice dropping again, a intimate murmur meant only for you, “if you learn your place and serve it well… there are other ways a debt can be settled. More personal forms of currency.”
Nakyong giggled, a bright, knowing sound. Xinyu simply watched, a faint, calculating curve to her mouth. Nien’s expression remained unreadable.
Sohyun’s gaze dipped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. The sexual tension wasn’t a crackle in the air; it was a slow, deep thrum, a bass note you felt in your bones. It was in the way her body angled towards yours, in the proprietary sweep of her gaze, in the unspoken what if that hung between every word.
“Do you understand the terms of your… employment?” Sohyun asked, her lips now so close to yours you could feel the whisper of her breath.
You couldn’t speak. You nodded, a slight, jerky motion.
A true smile, one of pure, predatory delight, spread across Sohyun’s face. “Good.” She leaned in one final time, her lips almost, almost meeting the corner of your mouth. They hovered there for a heartbeat, a promise of a touch withheld. The heat of her, the intention, was more potent than any kiss.
Then she was stepping back, the spell breaking. She turned, her leather jacket creaking.
“Nien,” Sohyun said, not looking back. “Bring him to the garage tomorrow. Make sure he’s… presentable.”
Nien gave a single, sharp nod, her eyes on you. “He’ll be ready.”
Sohyun and Xinyu melted into the shadows at the end of the corridor. Nakyoung gave you a final, fluttering wave and skipped after them.
Leaving you alone with Nien. Your old friend. The stranger in the leather vest.
She didn’t smile. She just looked at you, her head tilted. “Eight o’clock,” she said, her voice devoid of its former warmth. “Don’t be late. And wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.” A pause, heavy with implication. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
The echo of their boots faded down the corridor, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of leather and threat. Kim Nakyoung didn’t follow the others. She leaned against a row of lockers, her wide smile softening into something more intimate.
“Hey,” she said, her voice losing its performative edge. “Look at you. Shaking like a leaf.” She pushed off the lockers and closed the distance, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. Her touch was warmer than Sohyun’s, more familiar. “Everything’s gonna be alright, Lil Pup. Sohyun… she likes to make an impression. The debt’s real, but it’s not a death sentence.” Her thumb stroked your cheekbone. “How about you take a ride with me? Get your head straight.”
You wanted to refuse, to run. But her eyes held yours, bright and inviting, a lifeline in the sudden chaos. A nod was all you could manage.
Her motorcycle was a sleek, vibrant machine, a contrast to Sohyun’s intimidating chrome. The ride was a blur of speed and forced focus, the city lights streaking past as you held onto her waist. She didn’t go to a garage. She pulled up to a modern high-rise, its glass façade glittering. “Home sweet home,” she said, killing the engine.
Her apartment was a surprise. Spacious, minimalist, luxurious. Soft, ambient lighting glowed from recessed shelves. It smelled of citrus and clean linen. It didn’t smell like a gang member’s den.
“Nice, right?” she grinned, kicking off her boots. “Perks of the life.” She turned to you, and the playful glint in her eyes shifted, deepened. The predator from the corridor was back, but here, in her territory, it was sharper, more focused. “You’re still wound up tight.”
Before you could answer, her hands were on your shoulders. She walked you backward, her strength effortless, until the backs of your knees hit the plush edge of a large platform bed. A small, surprised sound left your lips as you fell onto the duvet.
Kim Nakyoung stood over you, her athletic frame outlined by the low light. She unzipped her leather jacket slowly, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Underneath, she wore a simple black tank top that clung to the curves of her breasts, the swell of her muscles. Her eyes gleamed.
“I’m gonna have so much fun today, Lil Pup,” she whispered, crawling onto the bed. She straddled your hips, her weight settling on you, pinning you not with cruelty, but with absolute certainty. “All that fear, all that tension… we’re gonna fuck it right out of you.”
Her hands planted on either side of your head. She lowered her face until her lips were a breath from yours. Her scent—sweat, speed, and something sweet—filled your senses. “You’re going to listen to me. You’re going to do what I say. And you’re going to fucking love it. Nod if you understand.”
You nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“Good pup,” she purred.
Then her mouth was on yours.
It wasn’t tender. It was a claiming. Her lips were soft but insistent, parting yours with a confident swipe of her tongue. The kiss was deep from the first second, wet and searching. She tasted of mint and something wild. You gasped into her mouth, and she swallowed the sound, her tongue exploring you, mapping the inside of your lips, sliding against your own. It was a kiss that stole your breath, that dissolved the last of your resistance in a flood of sheer, shocking heat.
She pulled back only to dive in again, angling her head to go deeper. One of her hands left the mattress to fist in your hair, holding you still for her exploration. The other hand slid down your side, over your ribs, your stomach. A warm pulse, thick and urgent, stirred low in your belly, spreading outwards.
“Mmm, you taste good,” she mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the frantic pulse in your throat. “All nervous and sweet.” Her teeth grazed your earlobe. “I’m going to make you taste like me.”
Her hands went to the hem of your shirt. “Arms up.” The command was casual, absolute. You obeyed. The cool air of the apartment hit your skin as she stripped the fabric away and tossed it aside. Her gaze raked over your chest, your stomach. Her palm, rough from handling grips and throttles, smoothed over your pectoral muscle, her thumb circling a nipple until it peaked under her touch. A jolt of sensation shot straight down to your groin.
“You’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” she breathed, her mouth trailing down your neck, over your collarbone. Her tongue flicked against the other nipple, then she took it into her mouth, sucking firmly. You arched off the bed, a choked-off sound escaping you. She hummed in approval, the vibration buzzing through your nerve endings.
She released your nipple with a soft pop, her lips shining. Her hand drifted lower, over the tense plane of your abdomen, to the waistband of your jeans. Her fingers made quick work of the button, the zipper. The sound was obscenely loud.
“Lift your hips.”
Again, you obeyed. She peeled your jeans and briefs down your legs in one rough, efficient motion. The air was cool on your exposed skin, but the heat of her gaze was a brand. You were fully hard, aching, laid bare beneath her.
Nakyoung sat back on her heels, still straddling your thighs, and just looked. Her eyes darkened, that playful smile turning wicked. “Look at you. All for me.” She leaned forward, her tank top gaping, giving you a devastating view of her cleavage. She didn’t touch you with her hands. Instead, she lowered her mouth.
Her tongue, hot and flat, licked a long, slow stripe from the base of your cock to the tip. You cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily. She laughed, a low, thrilling sound, and wrapped her fingers around the base of your shaft, holding you still. “Uh-uh. You don’t move until I say you can move.” Her breath ghosted over the wet head. “This is my fuck to take.”
Then she took you into her mouth.
The heat was instantaneous, overwhelming. Her mouth was a silken, sucking furnace. She didn’t start slow. She took you deep, her throat working around you, her tongue pressing hard along the sensitive underside. Your vision whited out at the edges. Her head began to bob, a steady, ruthless rhythm, her other hand cupping and rolling your balls with a firm, knowing pressure.
“Fuck, Nakyoung—” you gasped.
She pulled off with a slick sound, her lips swollen and glistening. “You call me ‘Noona’ when I’m fucking your mouth,” she said, her voice husky. She didn’t wait for a reply. She dove back down, swallowing you whole again, her pace becoming frantic, hungry. The wet sounds, her soft grunts, the coil of pleasure tightening in your gut—it was too much. You were drowning in it.
Just as you felt the precipice approach, she pulled away again. A string of saliva connected her lips to your throbbing cock. She was breathing hard, her own arousal evident in the flush on her chest, the dark hunger in her eyes.
“Not yet,” she panted. “I’m not done with you.” She shifted her weight, moving up your body. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her own tight jeans and wriggled out of them, revealing simple black lace panties that were already damp at the center. She didn’t remove them. Instead, she settled her hips over yours, the soaked lace a maddening barrier against your naked skin.
She ground down on you, a slow, circular roll of her hips. The friction was exquisite torture. You could feel the heat of her through the fabric, the firm swell of her. Her eyes locked on yours as she rocked, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow.
“You want to be inside me, don’t you, Pup?” she whispered, leaning forward so her breasts pressed against your chest. Her mouth found your ear. “You want to fuck your way out of this debt? You want to bury that pretty cock in my pussy and make me forget my own name?”
“Yes,” you groaned, the word ripped from you.
“Then beg for it.”
Her words hung in the air, a delicious, impossible demand. You were lost in the scent of her, the feel of her damp lace grinding against you, the ghost of her mouth still tingling on your skin. You opened your mouth, a pathetic, whispered “please” barely forming.
Nakyoung’s smile turned sharp. She stopped her grinding, lifting her hips just enough to break that torturous contact. In one fluid motion, she swung her leg over you and stood beside the bed. She looked down at you, sprawled and aching, your cock standing stiff and desperate against your stomach.
“That’s not begging,” she said, her voice cool. She planted one foot firmly on the mattress beside your hip, then the other, stepping until she stood directly over you, straddling your chest. The black lace of her panties was a dark shadow above you. “You ruined my bike. You owe a debt. And you think a weak little ‘please’ earns you the right to fuck me?” She shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her face. “No. You need to apologize. Properly.”
She shifted her weight, bringing one foot down to rest squarely on your sternum. It wasn’t heavy, but the pressure was absolute, a physical anchor of her dominance. The sole of her foot was warm, slightly rough from riding barefoot in her boots. She wiggled her toes, the simple, casual gesture somehow more intimate than anything before.
“Lick it,” she commanded, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Clean my foot. Show me how sorry you are for fucking up my beautiful machine.”
The heat in your face was immediate. Humiliation warred with the thrumming need in your veins. Her gaze held yours, unblinking, waiting. The ache in your cock was a persistent, painful throb, a testament to how deeply her game had hooked you. You wanted her. And this was the price.
Slowly, you turned your head. You pressed a tentative kiss to the arch of her foot.
Nakyoung let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Tongue, Pup. I said lick. You want to cum in me? You gotta beg harder than that. Show me you mean it.”
A surge of something dark and eager broke through the shame. You opened your mouth and extended your tongue, swiping a broad, wet stripe from her heel to the ball of her foot. The taste was clean skin, a faint salt of sweat, utterly and completely her. The texture was a mix of smooth and rough. You did it again, more firmly, lapping at her sole, sucking her toes into your mouth one by one.
A low, approving hum vibrated from her. “Yes. Just like that. Good boy.” She pressed her foot more firmly against your mouth, encouraging you. You worshipped her foot with your tongue, your lips, losing yourself in the act of servitude. Each lick, each suck, felt like a key turning in a lock deep inside you, releasing a flood of submissive heat that pooled in your groin, making you impossibly harder.
“You love this, don’t you?” she breathed, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Being my little footstool. My apologetic pup. Tell me you love it.”
You released her toe with a wet pop. “I love it, Noona,” you gasped, the title feeling foreign and perfect on your tongue.
“Louder.”
“I love it!” The words were ragged, torn from a place of pure, desperate wanting.
Finally, she stepped off of you, sliding down the bed until she was kneeling between your spread legs. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft, her grip tight, almost punishing. She leaned over you, her damp lace-covered mound hovering inches from your face. Her other hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head up.
“Now,” she whispered, her voice a dark promise, “you’re going to eat my pussy until I’m screaming. And you’re not going to stop for anything. You’re going to fucking drown in me. And when I’m good and ready, when I’ve come all over that pretty face of yours, then I’ll let you fuck me. Understood?”
You could only nod, your mouth already watering.
She didn’t wait. She lowered herself onto your face, guiding you with the hand in your hair. The soaked lace was the first thing you tasted, then, as she ground down, the hot, musky salt of her skin through the fabric. You licked, a frantic, broad stroke, and she moaned, a deep, guttural sound that went straight to your cock.
“Fuck yes,” she hissed, rocking her hips. “Rip them.”
You gripped the fragile lace with your teeth and tore. The sound of rending fabric was obscene. She lifted her hips, letting you pull the ruined garment away and toss it aside. Then she settled back, bare and dripping, directly onto your waiting mouth.
There was no finesse. It was a feast. You plunged your tongue into her, lapping at her opening, sucking her swollen folds, tracing frantic circles around her clit. She tasted intoxicating—sharp, sweet, and deeply female. Her moans became a continuous, breathy melody above you. Her thighs clamped around your head, the world narrowing to the scent and taste and feel of her pussy on your tongue.
“Right there—don’t you fucking stop—” Her hips bucked against your mouth. One of her hands left your hair to grip the headboard, her knuckles white. The other hand stayed fisted in your hair, riding your face, setting a brutal, demanding rhythm. “You’re gonna make Noona cum, Pup. You’re gonna swallow every fucking drop.”
You redoubled your efforts, fucking her with your tongue, flicking your tongue-tip against that tight, hard nub with relentless precision. Her breathing became ragged, sharp gasps. Her inner muscles fluttered against your tongue, a frantic, clenching pulse.
“Now!” she screamed, her body bowing as the orgasm ripped through her. A hot, sweet flood hit your tongue as she convulsed above you, her cries raw and unfiltered. You drank her down, licking and sucking through the waves until her movements slowed to weak, shuddering tremors.
She collapsed beside you, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the dim light. She turned her head, a lazy, sated smile on her face. Her hand snaked down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around your cock, which was leaking and painfully hard.
“You did so good,” she purred, stroking you slowly, her grip slick with her own arousal. “You earned this.” She shifted, moving to straddle your hips once more, but this time, there was no barrier. The head of your cock nudged against her soaked, swollen entrance. She held you there, teasing, letting you feel the impossible heat.
“Beg for it one more time,” she whispered, leaning close, her lips brushing yours. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”
“Please, Noona,” you groaned, your hips straining upward. “I want to fuck you. I need to be inside you. I want to feel your pussy squeeze my cock until I can’t think.”
Her eyes flashed with victory. “Then fucking take it.”
She sank down in one slow, devastating slide, sheathing you completely in her tight, wet heat. The sensation was blinding. You cried out, your hands flying to her hips, digging into her skin.
Nakyoung threw her head back, a long, low moan tearing from her throat. “God, you fill me up.” She began to move, rising and falling with a deep, grinding rhythm, taking you to the hilt with every drop. “This is what you wanted, right? To fuck your way into the Roses? Well, fuck me, then. Show me what my good Pup can do
A strange, floaty calm settled over you as you caught your breath. The world had narrowed to the taste of her, the feel of her weight, the fading tremors in your own limbs. Nakyoung shifted beside you, propping herself up on an elbow. She studied your face, then reached out and ruffled your hair, the gesture surprisingly casual.
“Not bad for a newbie, I guess,” she said, a grin playing on her lips. It was different from her earlier, predatory smiles. This one held a glint of genuine, amused appraisal. “You’re gonna be fun to break in.” She swung her legs off the bed, her naked body moving with easy grace. “Stay put. I need a drink.”
She padded to the sleek, minimalist kitchen and returned with two cold beer cans. She tossed one to you. The can was cold and slick in your hand, a shock against your overheated skin. You sat up, the sheet pooling at your waist, and cracked it open. The fizz was loud in the quiet room.
Nakyoung hopped back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged facing you. She took a long swig, her throat working. “So,” she began, her eyes scanning you. “You’re probably wondering what the hell you just signed up for.” She laughed, a light, unburdened sound. “Sohyun’s… intense. But she’s fair. In her own way.” She took another drink. “Me? I joined because it was the most exciting thing on offer. School was a snooze. My family wanted a quiet little office worker. Fuck that.” She gestured around the luxurious apartment with her can. “This is better. The speed, the control, the respect. The fun.”
You listened, sipping the bitter beer, the alcohol adding to the surreal haze. She talked about races through mountain passes, about the coded loyalty of the Roses, about the thrill of power that came with the leather vest. Her words painted a picture that was terrifying and magnetic all at once. And you were now stuck in the middle of it, your fate tied to the woman who was currently sitting naked, telling you stories like you were an old friend.
Then a sound cut through the easy atmosphere.
A knock. Firm. Authoritative. Three precise raps on the apartment door.
Nakyoung’s posture changed instantly. The relaxed slouch vanished. Her eyes, which had been warm and storytelling, went sharp, darting to the door. The playful energy was gone, replaced by a watchful tension. She set her beer down slowly.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. Her gaze snapped to you. “Get behind me. Now.”
The command brooked no argument. You scrambled off the bed, your heart, which had just begun to settle, launching into a frantic gallop again. You moved to crouch behind her where she sat on the edge of the mattress, the sheet the only cover for your nakedness. The air, moments ago warm and intimate, turned icy.
Nakyoung didn’t get up. She just called out, her voice carefully neutral. “It’s open.”
The door swung inward.
Park Sohyun filled the doorway. She wasn’t in full leathers, just tight black jeans and a simple black tank top that showed off the lean, powerful lines of her arms. Her dark hair was pulled back, severe. She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the apartment with a cold, disinterested efficiency that missed nothing—the two beer cans, the discarded clothes on the floor, the rumpled sheets.
Then her eyes found you.
A slow, deliberate crack echoed in the quiet as she rolled her neck to one side. Then her knuckles. The sound was like breaking ice. Her expression didn’t change, but her dark eyes, when they locked onto yours, were utterly, terrifyingly focused.
“Nakyoung-ah,” Sohyun said, her voice a low, flat line. She didn’t look at her lieutenant. Her stare was pinned on you, a physical weight. “What the fuck is this kid doing here?”
Nakyoung stood up, putting herself more squarely between you and Sohyun. “Sohyun, listen. He was a mess after the corridor. I just brought him here to… calm him down. Explain things.”
“Explain things.” Sohyun repeated the words as if they were in a foreign language. She took a step forward. Then another. Her movements were liquid and lethal. “It looks like you explained things with your clothes off.” Her lip curled. “Did you two fuck each other’s brains out?”
The question hung in the air, brutal and direct. Your mouth was dry. You couldn’t lie, not under that gaze. A tiny, jerky nod was all you could manage.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Not from Sohyun.
From Nakyoung.
She spun, her hand a blur. The slap caught you across the cheek, sharp and stinging. Before you could even process the pain, her fist drove into your gut. The air exploded from your lungs in a sickening whoosh. You doubled over, gasping, the world tilting.
“Sohyun, stop!” Nakyoung shouted, stepping back, her hands up as if to ward off her leader. But she was looking at you, her eyes wide with a warning you couldn’t decipher.
Sohyun ignored her. She closed the final distance. Her hand shot out, not to hit you, but to grab a fistful of your hair. She yanked you upright, your scalp screaming, and slammed you back against the cool wall. She leaned in, her body not touching yours but caging you completely. Her scent—jasmine and cold night air—filled your nose.
“You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her face inches from yours. Her breath was warm. Her eyes searched yours, looking for fear, for defiance, for anything she could use. “Thinking you could skip the service and pay your debt between my lieutenant’s legs?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Nakyoung insisted, her voice strained.
Sohyun finally glanced at her, a flicker of impatience. “Nakyoung-ah. We’re gangsters. Not some lovey-dovey couple playing house. We don’t romance our debts away.” Her gaze sliced back to you, hardening. “Especially not this guy. He wrecked your bike. Remember?”
Something shifted in Nakyoung’s face. The protectiveness bled away, replaced by a mask of cool indifference. She looked from Sohyun to you, and a slow, cruel smile touched her lips. It was a performance, but it was flawless.
“Who said anything about love?” Nakyoung scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone was dismissive, almost bored. “I was just using his cock, Sohyun. He was handy. And desperate. You should have seen him beg.” She laughed, a short, ugly sound. “It was pathetic.”
The words were a physical blow, sharper than her punch. You flinched.
Sohyun’s laughter filled the room. It was a rich, dark sound of genuine amusement. “Oh, is that so?” She looked back at you, her eyes sparkling with cruel delight. “You hear that, little mouse? You’re just a handy, desperate cock.” She shook her head, chuckling. “To think I was almost impressed.”
She released your hair, her hand coming up to cup your chin instead. Her thumb stroked your jawline, a mockery of her earlier touch in the corridor. The gesture was intimate, her touch almost gentle. Her face softened for a fraction of a second, her dark eyes holding yours. For a dizzying moment, you thought you saw something else there—not anger, but a deep, simmering curiosity.
Then her smile turned razor-sharp.
“But we don’t play favorites,” Sohyun whispered, her thumb pressing into the corner of your mouth. “And we don’t forget insults.”
Her other hand drew back, a tight, professional fist.
The last thing you saw was the cold calculation in her eyes, and the flicker of something that might have been regret on Nakyoung’s face, gone in a blink.
Then the world exploded into a supernova of white pain, and everything went black.
Consciousness returned in a throbbing wave of pain. Your jaw ached. Your stomach was a knot of bruised muscle. The cool floor pressed against your bare back. Before you could even open your eyes, a pressure settled on your face—firm, unyielding, and smelling sharply of leather and asphalt.
You blinked, vision blurry. Park Sohyun stood over you, one boot planted squarely on your cheek, grinding it into the polished concrete floor of Nakyoung’s apartment. Her expression was one of detached curiosity, like a scientist observing a pinned insect.
“Awake, little mouse?” Her voice was a silken threat. “Good. We were just getting started.”
You tried to twist your head away, to push her foot off. A muffled sound of protest bubbled in your throat.
Sohyun’s eyes darkened. She leaned her weight forward. The pressure became crushing, the hard edge of the boot’s sole digging into your cheekbone, forcing your face harder against the unyielding floor. A spike of panic shot through you. You brought your hands up, pushing weakly at her calf.
She didn’t budge. Instead, she pressed down harder, a slow, inexorable increase that made your skull feel like it might crack. “You don’t push me away,” she whispered, the words cold and precise. “You take what I give you. You swallow it.”
The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. You were naked, vulnerable, literally beneath her. Your resistance faltered, your hands dropping to the floor with a pathetic slap.
“That’s better,” she purred, the pressure easing just a fraction. She looked over your head. “Nakyoung-ah. Bring The Toy.”
From somewhere behind you, Nakyoung’s voice, bright and eager. “Yes, unnie!”
You heard the quick patter of bare feet, a closet door sliding open. Sohyun kept her boot on your face, her gaze holding yours, ensuring you felt every second of the wait. Nakyoung returned, kneeling just at the edge of your vision. In her hands were two simple, sinister objects: a black leather gag with a strap, and a thick, padded blindfold.
“Now,” Sohyun said, her voice dropping to a intimate murmur that vibrated through the sole of her boot. “You’re going to be a good boy, and submit.”
She lifted her foot.
The relief was instant, but short-lived. Before you could even take a full breath, her fist connected with your already-tender stomach. The air exploded from you in a ragged gasp, your body curling instinctively. In that moment of helpless contraction, she moved. Her knee pinned your shoulder to the floor. Strong, practiced hands forced the leather gag between your teeth. The taste was bitter, artificial. The strap pulled tight behind your head, buckling with a final, click that seemed to echo in the silent room. Your protests became muffled, animalistic grunts.
Then, darkness.
The blindfold settled over your eyes, the world vanishing into a void of plush black. Your other senses screamed to life. You heard Sohyun’s quiet breathing above you. You smelled her jasmine scent, now mixed with the cold sweat of your own fear. You felt the cool air on your skin, the hard floor beneath you, a terrifying vulnerability.
“Call the others,” Sohyun commanded, her voice moving away.
“On it!” Nakyoung chirped. You heard the faint taps of her phone screen, then her voice, slightly distant. “Hey. Get over here. Sohyun’s orders. Yeah, now. Bring your… you know, your vibe.”
A long, silent minute stretched. You lay there, blind and gagged, heart hammering against your ribs. You heard the rustle of clothing, the soft clink of a belt. Then Sohyun’s voice was close again, her breath warm against your ear.
“They’re coming,” she whispered. Her fingertip traced the line of your jaw, down your throat, over your collarbone. A touch so light it was worse than a blow. “Nien. Xinyu. The whole family. And you’re going to kneel for them. You’re going to be our little showpiece.” Her lips brushed your earlobe. “Does that scare you? It should.”
The apartment door opened. You stiffened. Two sets of footsteps entered, one light and precise, the other with a familiar, confident cadence.
“He’s already trussed up,” Nakyoung said, her voice cheerful. “Sohyun didn’t waste any time.”
“Efficient,” came a voice you recognized as Zhou Xinyu’s. It was cool, analytical, cutting through the thick air. “The gag is a practical choice. Reduces noise complaints.”
A new presence knelt beside you. Fingers, slender and chill, traced the strap of the blindfold. “The fit is good,” Nien said. Her voice was flat, devoid of the warmth you remembered from university lectures. It was all assessing stare, even if you couldn’t see it. “He’s shaking.”
“He’s excited,” Sohyun corrected, a smile in her voice. Her hand landed on your chest, palm flat over your pounding heart. “Feel that? That’s not just fear. That’s anticipation.” Her hand slid lower, over your stomach, making your muscles jump. “He likes being our thing. Our pet. Don’t you?”
You couldn’t speak. You could only breathe raggedly through your nose, the sound loud and desperate in the quiet room.
“Stand him up,” Sohyun said.
Hands gripped you—Nakyoung’s on one arm, Nien’s on the other. They hauled you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly, unsteady. The blindfold made you disoriented. You stood naked, gagged, and blind before four women whose moods you could only guess at.
Sohyun’s presence moved in front of you. Her fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your head up. “Kneel.”
You hesitated for a second. A sharp pinch on your inner arm from Nakyoung made you gasp into the gag. Your knees buckled, hitting the floor with a painful thud.
“Good,” Sohyun breathed. You felt her lean close. Her scent enveloped you. Then her lips found yours.
Or rather, she kissed the leather gag covering your mouth. It was a slow, deliberate press of her soft lips against the unyielding material. A kiss you couldn’t truly feel, only imagine. Her tongue darted out, tracing the seam where the gag met your skin. The intimacy of the gesture, the sheer perversion of it, sent a shocking bolt of heat straight to your groin. You whimpered.
She pulled back slightly. “He’s getting hard,” she announced to the room, a note of triumph in her voice. “Even like this. Pathetic.” Her hand curled in your hair, holding your head in place. “This is what you are now. A toy. A leash for us to pull when we’re bored.” Her other hand cupped your face, her thumb stroking your cheek with a mock tenderness. “And you’re going to learn to love it.”
You heard the shift of fabric, the slow, deliberate unzipping of jeans. Your breath hitched.
“Nakyoung,” Sohyun said, her voice taking on a new, husky note. “Come here. Show our new pet how we play.”
Her hand in your hair keeps you kneeling, facing forward into the dark. You hear the rustle of clothing, the shift of bodies around you. Then a touch, cool and precise, tilts your chin up.
“Open.” Zhou Xinyu’s voice is a clinical command, inches from your face.
Through the gag, you can’t. You make a muffled sound, confused.
You feel her slender fingers at the buckle behind your head. A click, and the pressure on your jaws releases. She pulls the leather gag from your mouth. You gasp, working your sore jaw, tasting fresh air tinged with her perfume—something clean and metallic, like ozone after a storm.
“Better,” she says. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, her grip firm and directing. “Now, open your mouth. Wide.”
You obey. A tremor runs through you, part fear, part something else entirely—a dark, eager thrumming in your blood. You feel her other hand guide something smooth and firm to your lips. Not skin. Silicone. The head of a strap-on.
“You will keep your mouth wet and open,” Xinyu instructs, her tone utterly devoid of heat, as if she’s explaining a technical manual. “You will not use your teeth. You will breathe through your nose. You will take it to the base. Your only function is to provide a warm, tight hole for my use. Understood?”
A weak, “Yes,” escapes your raw throat.
“Good.”
She doesn’t wait. She pushes forward.
The silicone head parts your lips, a blunt, unyielding pressure. It slides over your tongue, wider than you expected, stretching your mouth. You gag instinctively, your throat convulsing.
Xinyu pauses. “Relax your throat,” she says, not unkindly, just factual. “Swallow.”
You try. You force your muscles to loosen, you swallow around the intrusion, and she pushes deeper. It fills your mouth completely, a synthetic taste, then reaches the back of your throat. You breathe sharply through your nostrils, tears pricking at the corners of your blindfolded eyes. She holds there, letting you adjust to the sensation of being utterly filled, your jaw aching with the stretch.
Then she sets a rhythm.
Slow, at first. Withdrawing until just the tip rests on your tongue, then sliding back in, deep, hitting the back of your throat each time. Each thrust makes a wet, obscene sound in the quiet room. Your world narrows to the stretch of your lips, the press on your tongue, the choke-point in your throat that you must consciously relax for her.
“See?” Sohyun’s voice comes from somewhere to your right, a purr of satisfaction. “He’s a natural. Look how his throat works.”
Xinyu’s pace increases. The thrusts become more purposeful, a steady, pistoning rhythm. She uses her grip on your neck to guide your head, fucking your face with detached, efficient motions. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin and chest. The sounds grow louder—the slick slap of silicone, your ragged nasal breaths, Xinyu’s soft, controlled exhales with each push.
You’re painfully hard. The humiliation, the helplessness, the sheer physicality of being used this way coils that tight, hot wire in your gut even tighter.
Then, new hands on your hips. Warm, familiar. Nakyoung.
“My turn,” she chirps. You feel her kneel in front of you, her thighs brushing yours. She guides your cock, slick with your own arousal, to her entrance. She’s soaking wet. The heat of her is a shock against your sensitive head.
She sinks down in one smooth, devastating motion, swallowing you whole into a gripping, velvet-soft inferno. A ragged moan is torn from you, distorted around the silicone stretching your mouth.
“Oh fuck, yes,” Nakyoung sighs, rolling her hips, settling you deep inside her. “Keep fucking his face, Xinyu. Don’t stop.”
And so it begins.
Xinyu fucks your mouth with that relentless, mechanical precision. In, out. Deep, shallow. The rhythm is merciless, giving you no time to fully recover, keeping you on the edge of gagging, your throat fluttering around the fake cock. Tears soak the blindfold.
Beneath that, Nakyoung rides you. She sets a counter-rhythm, rising and falling on your shaft, her inner muscles clenching and milking you in waves. She grinds down on you, circling her hips, taking you so deep you feel her cervix nudge the head of your cock.
“You feel that, Pup?” she pants, her voice thick with pleasure. “That’s my pussy thanking you for being such a good little toy. Fuck, you’re thick.” She leans forward, her breasts pressing against your chest, her mouth finding your ear. “You’re just a fucking tool. A cock for me to ride and a mouth for Xinyu to fuck. Isn’t that perfect?”
You can’t answer. You can only take it. Sensation overwhelms you—the dual penetration, one claiming your mouth, one claiming your cock. The air fills with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of wet flesh and labored breathing.
“His responses are textbook,” Xinyu comments coolly, never breaking her stride. “Increased salivation, elevated heart rate, full erection maintained despite respiratory stress. Efficient.”
Sohyun laughs, a rich, dark sound of pure amusement. “Record everything, Nakyoung. Get his pretty, ruined face.”
“Already am, unnie!” Nakyoung’s voice is gleeful. You hear the faint electronic shutter sound of a phone camera, close by. The knowledge that this is being documented, that your debasement is being captured, sends another sick, thrilling jolt through you.
You’re a thing. A conduit for their pleasure. The realization doesn’t frighten you now; it unlocks something. Your hips jerk up to meet Nakyoung’s downward strokes. Your mouth suckles involuntarily on the silicone shaft, trying to take it deeper.
“He’s getting into it,” Nien’s flat voice observes from nearby. You’d almost forgotten her. “Look at his hands.”
Your fingers are curled into helpless fists on your thighs, trembling with the effort of not touching, not holding on.
“Good,” Sohyun says. Her voice is closer now. You feel her stand behind you. Her hands come to rest on your shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to brand you. “This is what you were made for. To serve. To be used.”
Xinyu’s thrusts become faster, harder. She’s chasing her own finish now, her breathing losing its perfect control, turning into sharp, rhythmic gasps. The fake cock rams into your throat, over and over. You take it, tears streaming, your own pleasure coiling to a breaking point inside Nakyoung’s incredible heat.
Nakyoung feels it. She leans back, bracing her hands on your thighs, and begins to fuck you in earnest, a hard, bouncing ride that slams your pelvis against hers. “You wanna cum, Pup?” she taunts, her voice breaking. “You wanna fill my pussy? Do it. Be a good toy and cum for your Noona.”
The permission, the command, is the final trigger.
Xinyu lets out a sharp, controlled cry, her hips stuttering against your face as she finds her release. The simultaneous clenching of Nakyoung around you, her own climax hitting with a guttural shout, pulls you over the edge.
Your own orgasm erupts, a blinding white current that seizes your spine and empties you into her in pulsing, helpless waves. You scream around the silicone filling your mouth, the sound a muted, desperate vibration.
For a moment, there is only the symphony of heavy breathing and the slick, wet sounds of connection.
Xinyu pulls the strap-on from your mouth with a soft, wet pop. You gasp, coughing, drool stringing from your lips to the floor.
Nakyoung slumps forward against you, her sweaty forehead resting on your shoulder, her body still lightly convulsing around your softening cock.
Sohyun’s hands massage your shoulders. “Perfect,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction. She leans down, her lips brushing your ear. “Now, let’s see how you handle Nien.”
You feel Nakyoung lift herself off you, leaving you empty and dripping. Cool air kisses your wet skin. A new presence, quiet and focused, moves in front of you. Nien’s fingers, tracing the line of your jaw.
“My turn,” she says, her voice a low, intent whisper. Before nien can continue however, a sudden knock was heard from the front door. Who was it? You thought to yourself as you steadies your breath.
"Who the fuck is knocking at Our door at 11 pm at night. Nakyoung check it out". Sohyun commanded. Her tone punchy and her mood were immediately broken with the sudden bothering of that special someone.
As nakyoung runs and opens the door. Suddenly "What the fuck. what are you Girls doing here..". Stomp, you heard a body dropping to the floor. As suddenly a lot of footsteps entered the room, Sohyun herself and the others were also shocked. To see their rival Gang. The Youngblood. Or 젊은 피 jeol-meun pi. Their leader, Jang Wonyoung.
"Well well well… What do we have here. Sohyun and her gang". Wonyoung stepped in the room, alongside her gang members, Choi Yena, Jo yuri and Kim Minju.
"What the fuck, are you girls having an orgy or something? ahahaha". Yuri chukled, seeing You tied up and gagged. "Who's this little fella".
Far away, Sohyun watches Nakyoung who were beaten very badly. "What the fuck did you do to Nakyoung, and what the hell do you girls want".
Wonyoung turned her gaze to Sohyun, as she stepped slowly. She then lift nakyoung up, as she said to Sohyun. "What do we want? Chukles One of your Members have entered our territory, and not only that. She has kidnapped one of our… let's say beloved treasure".
"Our members would never do that. We respect the oath".
"Well clearly one of yours didn't. And i have prove of that".
Wonyoung give a signal to Yena, as she scattered the photos of a Girl, who clearly wears a Jacket of the Iron Rose gang. In the photos, The Girl seemed to ruin one of the Youngbloods bases. And then, The treasure. A Man. Who's not older than you Probably. He was kidnapped, and haven't got back after that.
"The treasure is a man"? Xinyu wondered, with a weird expression on her face.
"Not just any man. He was our lover. Our property. Our Toy. With you ruining the oath and the pact. We can no longer play safe. We shall take what's yours, and start the bloody gang war all over again.. Starting with him".
"Him"? Sohyun asked confusingly.
"Hahaha, yes. I Guess you took this guy and uses him, but we don't care. It seems, your friend at the front door, was pretty interested in him. We saw the two leave together, so I guess she has this.. sorta connection for him. So we'll take him captive, until you give back our Treasure, and the girl who has causes harm. If not. Bloodbath shall pour from tomorrow and forwards".
