Episode 8: Increasing Numbers
Episode 8) Rising Numbers
I believe the essence of netorare lies in the aesthetics of masochism.
There's a perverse pleasure in watching what's most precious to you being consumed, exhausted, and ultimately stolen by another.
It started lightly at first. Like the frustrated subject who blurted out, "The emperor has donkey ears!" I used Twitter as my bamboo forest—a place to whisper forbidden truths.
[I am my girlfriend's first man, and yet... whenever I see traces of her past with her ex-boyfriend, an inexplicable emotion torments me. It's not mere discomfort—it's something closer to arousal.]
In every college photo, Da-hee was always by Min-ho's side. Dressed in revealing clothes tailored to his tastes, of course. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner with an awkward smile plastered on my face.
Even in bed, certain services or acts Da-hee occasionally performed carried the distinct flavor of her ex's "handiwork."
Unlike most, I didn't feel discomfort or jealousy. Instead, my heart raced with excitement, with pleasure. And when I realized this, I couldn't contain it—I began documenting every detail on Twitter.
Naturally, I used the pseudonym "Haneul" for Da-hee.
The degenerates online demanded more—daily snapshots, lewd photos, anything. At first, I resisted. But eventually, I cautiously began sharing glimpses of our life.
Early posts were heavily pixelated, mundane moments. (Looking back, it's laughable—my first upload was so blurred someone commented,
"If you're gonna 'verify' like this, don't bother. My grandma could pass as your girlfriend at this resolution."
)
But the intensity escalated faster than expected.
The likes poured in. Followers multiplied at an alarming rate.
'Why do you take these photos?'
'Just... to look at when you're not around. When you're gone.'
'You better not show these to anyone weird, okay? Promise?'
'Of course.'
That promise was broken effortlessly.
Sure, there was always the fear—what if someone recognized Da-hee? But the thrill outweighed it. And when I posted her more explicit photos, the responses were overwhelming. Some even printed them out, ejaculated on them, and sent me "proof."
By the time my follower count hit five digits, I finally switched to a private account. Too late, of course. By then, I'd formed connections—others trapped in the same limbo of unfulfilled desires, couples dabbling in swapping, relentless requests for more photos, even meetup propositions.
At first, I never truly intended to hand Da-hee over to another man. But then there was him—a user named "Sky Frog," whose boldness and confidence relentlessly prodded at my netorare tendencies. Eventually, I caved.
He handed over his real name and details, swearing it was purely for the "netori roleplay." No doxxing, no real-life fallout.
All I did was give him Da-hee's contact and her usual hangouts. How he seduced her? I still don't know. Da-hee won't talk about it. (Asking only leads to fights.)
Then, months later, this photo arrived in my DMs:
Da-hee in a motel room in broad daylight. A man—not me—holding a vibrator straight out of a porn scene, standing between her spread legs. The sheer shock of it was paralyzing.
More photos followed. Videos. Once, he even video-called me under the pretense of "filming content," forcing me to watch them live.
"If the pleasure with me is a 100, what's it like with your boyfriend?"
"Hmm... 15? Sometimes if he finishes too fast, a 3?"
The way she said it so casually—
"So today, make it a 500 for me"
—while rocking her hips playfully is seared into my mind. I lost count of how many times I jerked off after that call.
Soon after, she left me. (She came back, but still.) I'd lost Da-hee to that bastard, Kang Tae-yang. What kind of pleasure could make her abandon ten years for him?
"What does an orgasm feel like for you?"
When I once asked, Da-hee's answer was simple:
"Just... overwhelming happiness. Your mind goes blank. Regardless of the person's personality or circumstances, you think, I could spend my whole life chasing this feeling."
The nostalgic look on her face suggested she was recalling the joy she'd felt with Min-ho.
But when she was deep in her affair with Tae-yang, drunk and loose-lipped, her description changed:
"It's so intense it's terrifying. Your brain drowns in pleasure, layer by layer, until lightning bolts of sensation short-circuit your mind. It feels like you could die from how good it is. At that peak, you'd cross any line. It's... indescribable."
Did she have to be so detailed? Then again, maybe she needed to vent—to confess just how earth-shattering that pleasure was. And the fact that it came from another man? The guilt only heightened the thrill.
Of course, rationally, it's infuriating. But I orchestrated this. And I understand Da-hee. We're only human. Pleasure can make you lose your mind—I've been there. You can sob in regret later—I've done that too. Cherishing a second chance? Only natural. I'm doing the same.
...These thoughts kept me up all night. I'm exhausted. When Da-hee tried waking me—"Five more minutes... One more..."—she finally asked, concerned:
"Why are you so tired? Nightmares? Or... have we been doing it too much lately? Should we slow down?"
Her question was so endearing I had to tease her.
"If we slow down, you'd be okay with that? Even if it means less sex?"
She hesitated for three seconds. "...Yeah."
Adorable.
I dragged myself to work. Around 10 AM, I was fixing the meeting room lights when Assistant Manager Ara slipped in.
"When's the money from yesterday coming in?"
...That look in her eyes. Always so indecent.
"Probably by the end of the day? Around 5:30. Might come earlier. I'll transfer it as soon as it hits my account."
"Good. So... are we filming today?"
When I hesitated, she added, "I've got an idea. Let's talk during lunch." Then she left. The lingering scent of her perfume and cosmetics hung in the air, already conjuring images of the lewd conversation to come. My pants tightened.
'Damn it.'
I finished replacing the lights and checked my phone to calm down. Bad idea.
[Ji-eun (Ara) said she has a 'great idea' for today. What could it be...?]
My mouth went dry. After yesterday's photos, I've become Pavlov's dog—even Ara's smirk makes me hard. The thought of crossing the line with her lingers.
We already came close during our last shoot. I leaked so much pre-cum, and when she whispered,
"Wanna cheat just once?"
—it's haunted me since.
'I want her.'
In my mind, Da-hee screams, "No! Oppa, don't you dare!" But it's too late.
At lunch, after eating with the team, Ara took my hand and led me away. The others watched with knowing looks—Ara's reputation precedes her. Pretty, bold, witty, with a killer body and a voice like velvet. She's the type to crack dirty jokes first and pick fights with superiors.
"Borrowing Dong-jae for a bit!"
"Uh, sure."
We slipped into the supply room.
"Were you distracted all morning because of what I said? About my 'idea'?"
Her gaze was predatory. The top button of her blouse undone, revealing just enough to make it hard to focus.
"...Yeah. I'm curious."
"You were tenting your pants all morning."
"What?!"
She burst out laughing at my reaction, wiping tears.
"God, you're adorable. How'd I miss how hot you are?"
"It was a joke," she said, then got to the point.
"You said that guy's into netorare, right? The thrill of crossing lines?"
"Yeah. His handle's na12cl24. Real name's Kang Seong-yeol, I think."
Ara's eyes lit up.
"He gave you his real name? Damn, he's serious. I respect that—no hiding."
"Not sure if it's actually his name, though. He's never shown his face. Claims he's 27."
"Wait, he's young too? Ugh, perfect. Introduce me later."
A strange emotion twisted in my chest. Was it... jealousy? Over Ara praising him?
"...Sure."
She smirked at my strained reply, then leaned in.
"Anyway, here's the idea. Netorare's all about that 'forbidden' rush, right? The 'we shouldn't, but...' tension. A billionaire like him has probably seen everything, so you gotta dig deeper."
"Right."
"So instead of just sending straight-up porn, we play with that line. Tease him with how wrong it feels."
"Okay...?"
"First, you, as the boyfriend, do something slightly over the line with your girlfriend and document it. Then, I do something even more over the line with you—or her—and we capture that too."
"That... could work."
Seong-yeol would get off on that. Ara checked the time—12:46—then suddenly straightened.
"Let's have an affair. Doesn't have to be sex. But if we're gonna take 'line-crossing' photos, there's gotta be some touching, some skin... right?"
Honestly? I'd been thinking the same thing since this morning. The urge to cross that line with Ara. But was it even rational? My pulse roared in my ears.
"Lock the door," she said, checking the time again. "The boss is out with the execs. We've got time."
"But—"
"Come on."
At the word "lock," I was already half-hard. I hesitated, swallowed thickly, then obeyed.
As I turned the lock, Ara knelt before me, looking up with dark eyes.
"Let's make him jealous."
"I'm crossing the line now, Manager... no, Master."
Assistant Manager Ara was already pressing her palm firmly against the bulge in my pants. I quickly checked the time on my phone—12:48 PM. She tugged my zipper down and inhaled the scent inside my pants with a soft sniff. Watching my face flush crimson, she smirked, unbuckled my belt, and slid my pants down. Then my underwear followed. Finally, her fingers wrapped around my half-hard cock.
"Not as small as I thought. I was expecting something tiny."
The sheer unreality of the situation made me dizzy. Ara slowly gripped my shaft and began stroking it back and forth.
"You're really turned on, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Drop the formal speech."
"...Mmm."
"You're older than me. Just talk comfortably when we're doing something dirty."
"...Okay, Ara."
"Good, Oppa."
God, I'm losing my mind. Why is she so damn lewd? Her hand skills were insane. She adjusted her grip several times, squeezing my already-hard length with deliberate pressure, then brushed her thumb lightly over my slit before stroking the head with her other hand.
"Ah—"
"Feels good? If it does, say so."
"It's good... yeah, good."
"Mmm, if Oppa feels good, I feel good too."
"This is so intense—ugh."
Just the fact that I was getting a handjob from a younger superior while speaking casually was enough to make my head buzz with pleasure.
"Your girlfriend doesn't do this for you? What was her name again?"
"Yang Da-hee."
"Yang Da-ri?"
"Yang. Da. Hee!"
"Oh-ho."
I almost laughed. Da-hee's nickname in college was "Two-Timing," after all. And in the end, she did end up straddling another guy—thanks to me.
"She does, but not as well as you. Ahh, you're really good at this."
"I've handled enough men to hit triple digits. What about you?"
Her overwhelming experience suddenly made me a little self-conscious, but I answered honestly.
"One."
"Huh?"
"Just Da-hee..."
"Wow! So you never cheated or anything in all those years?"
"Never."
"True love, huh? Then I'm your first affair."
The word affair left me feeling hollow. But the pleasure surging from my cock drowned it out. The way her soft hands moved made me want to let go completely.
"I wanna suck you off, but I bet you'd cum the second I put it in my mouth."
"I'm not a premature ejaculator."
"Doesn't matter. Even guys who aren't turn into one with me. But Oppa barely has any experience, right? Be happy with this."
Saying be happy with this, she sped up her strokes—and I reacted instantly.
"Ah—!"
"Gonna cum?"
"No, just a little more..."
"Okay."
Then Da-hee said, "We should take pictures or a video of this." Oh, right.
She was always pretty, but seeing Assistant Manager Ara through my phone camera, gripping and stroking my cock, made her look stunning.
"You're lasting longer than I expected. Some guys finish in under a minute when I do this."
"I told you, I'm not a quick shot."
"Still, if we slept together, I bet you'd turn into one."
We'd clearly drawn the line at no sex, but here I was, already letting her touch me. Would we really stop there? Ara adjusted her speed and pressure, occasionally cupping the head with her palm or lightly teasing my balls, intensifying the stimulation.
"And I've been thinking..."
"Yeah?"
"For the Twitter content—aside from the dirty stuff..."
"Mhm?"
"We could take outfits your girlfriend wore and have me wear them—or something similar—then post comparison shots. Same clothes, different vibe. Same lingerie, different feel. Sounds fun, right?"
"Oh..."
I was getting close.
"But seriously, Oppa, you've only been with one woman? At your age?"
"One was enough. I thought she'd be the only one for life."
At that, Ara made a strange face before speaking.
"Too bad that's ruined now. Regrets?"
Surprisingly, I didn't feel much about increasing my body count (if anything, I wondered why I hadn't done it sooner). But a pang of guilt for Da-hee crept in belatedly. Before I could say anything, Ara spoke first.
"I'll make sure you don't regret it, Dong-jae Oppa. You're close, right? You can cum."
Then she stuck out her tongue. Oh—so this is that ahegao
thing.
Whenever I saw it in manga, I never got the appeal. But seeing it in real life—her tongue out, urging me to finish—was disgustingly hot.
"Ah—I'm gonna—ahh!"
"Cum."
"Hngh!"
I came, capturing the moment right before and after in photos.
Assistant Manager Ara grumbled, "Why's there so much?" but still cleaned me up thoroughly with her mouth. Then, using tissues and wet wipes I grabbed from the supply room, she wiped her face without complaint and even commented, "Tastes alright, though."
I was still reeling—from the orgasm, from getting blown by a coworker, from having my first affair—but Ara, already composed, tapped my phone and said:
"Open your photo app. If your girlfriend has any outfits I own, pick one, and I'll send you a matching shot."
When I opened the app, she scrolled through my photos—mostly of Da-hee—before sending one to her KakaoTalk. Then she sent me one from her own phone in return.
"Hmm, they looked similar separately, but the details are different. Still, posting stuff like 'Dressing my affair partner in my girlfriend's style' could hit the right spot, don't you think?"
Ara's idea. Honestly, it sounded hot at first, but seeing the photos side by side, it felt kinda meh. Maybe it's a niche thing—women who care about fashion would feel the sense of immorality more. I hesitated but said, "Yeah, I'll edit and post it."
Around 3 PM, during a lull, I went to the bathroom under the pretense of taking a dump and uploaded the photos to Twitter.
Oh. Actually, seeing them posted does feel kinda hot.
At 5:40 PM, after roughly ₩20 million finally deposited into my account from the coin exchange, I sent Ara exactly half. She was ecstatic.
"Did that guy say anything? Kang... what was it? Kang Seong-yeon?"
"Kang Seong-yeol."
"Yeah, him."
"Don't think he's seen the post yet. He'll probably message once he does. The pics are pretty blatant..."
Then Ara grinned.
"Who cares about him? We just got paid. Wanna grab dinner? Something fancy. And if Oppa wants... we can pick up where we left off."
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