What I Absolutely Don't Want Done

The sheer fact that I was seriously working through questions like these hit me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a wave of existential dread, and I could feel my mental fortitude slowly being scraped away ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just from that alone. Even so, my mind kept spinning, and I started to wonder whether this survey was actually going to be useful to me at all.

I didn't want any of it—anal or urethral—but urethral? At least anal was the major among the minors. Urethral just seemed... like it would hurt. There were people who got pleasure from that?

If I obediently chose number two here, would Inha really leave my urethra alone? Or the moment she saw my choice, would she tell me to spread my legs and go for it anyway?

While I was thinking that, a sudden curiosity about how urethral play even worked made me send a hand between my legs, but I couldn't feel any real sensation, let alone pleasure. She wouldn't shove a finger in there—

Maybe something like a cotton swab? No matter how I thought about it, it seemed like it would tear— I sat there with a blank expression, turning the idea over.

Then I forced my focus back onto the paper in front of me, which I still hadn't even halfway finished, and looked at the next question.

...

I really didn't want to write it, but there was no choice. Then I realized I didn't even know Inha's last name, so I just wrote Inha unnie and let out a long sigh. I was hungry. Naked, stomach growling, grinding through these ridiculous questions—the self-loathing was almost too much.

I simply stood up from the floor all at once. The absurdity of sitting bare-assed on the bare floor writing this crap made even that tiny act of defiance feel satisfying. Then I went back to the door and rattled it.

Just in case it might open, I pushed the handle and twisted, pulled and twisted, shook it every which way—but of course it stayed locked. That was only natural.

The thought of punching a hole through the door crossed my mind. Suddenly I remembered middle school, when I'd gotten into a fight and smashed a door. Doors were softer than people thought; they were more for dividing space than for truly locking anything in, and a single solid punch could put a hole clean through.

"..."

I seriously considered it, clenched my fist, then opened it again. Pain flared from the two fingers on my right hand. Even if I broke through this door, all that waited for me was a window I'd have to jump from and break my ankles, and a steel outer door.

Besides, I had no idea what time it was. Before the kidnapping, if I woke without an alarm it was usually around ten in the morning, but there was no guarantee it was the same now. After days of torment I might have slept in late, and I didn't even know whether I'd passed out yesterday in the afternoon or the middle of the night.

I looked around the room for no real reason. My eyes landed on the drawer I guessed Inha had pulled the dildo from yesterday, so I opened it.

...I just closed it again. I could understand most of the things, but the syringes and the rest—I couldn't even begin to guess how they were used. Maybe Inha was a little more creative than I'd given her credit for.

I tried to match her creativity by imagining stabbing her eyes with a needleless syringe when she walked in, or strangling her with one of those mysterious catheter tubes, but every scenario had roughly zero chance of working.

I couldn't overpower her, and the idea of killing someone made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me recoil. Even Inha, for all that she'd kidnapped me, probably still had a line at actual murder. No matter how far she'd gone, I couldn't believe it would tip over into a real urge to kill.

I clicked my tongue and scratched my head for no reason. Anger just kept piling up inside me. Whenever I wondered when rescue would come, the thought followed that not even a week had passed, let alone three. Whenever I thought about running, there was no way to run.

So I trudged back to the floor. Sitting right down and staring at that paper again would have hurt my pride, so I perched on the bed for a moment before crouching again, picking up the pen, and starting to scrawl.

My head throbbed. The last five blank sheets turned out to be nothing other than a reflection essay, so every single character I wrote came with a heavy sigh. I tried to comfort myself that this was still better than getting beaten or having a dildo shoved into me, but of course it wasn't easy.

If I'd actually committed a real crime or done something wrong, this would have been simpler. At least then the time spent stretching each line to fill space would have been a little shorter.

So I kept fretting, writing nonsense sentences that barely connected, scratching them out with hard lines, and starting over—for what felt like an hour. Not being able to check the time was enough to drive a person insane. Even in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days before clocks the sun and moon still rose and set, but I couldn't even have that. Primitive humans: one win. Me: one loss.

Even though I hadn't been awake long, hunger was already creeping in. My throat was getting drier too, but the only things in the room that could go into a mouth were my own blood and flesh, so I kept swallowing dry spit over and over.

The thought crossed my mind that she could at least have left some food. No—at the very least some water. I had no intention of killing myself, but Inha seemed worried about it anyway. Of course that "worry" didn't move me in the slightest.

I stared blankly at the paper until the back of my neck grew stiff. When I lifted my head, the egg-crate foam—sound-absorbing panels, whatever they were—that always made me think of music rooms came into view.

...

Wait. If I thought about it, couldn't I just tear them off? Tear them off and scream?

Inha had clearly written that she was going to the company. Just to be sure, I flipped back to the first page of the stack and checked again. That meant this house was at least somewhere in the capital region.

South Korea already had a tiny territory, and most of that was mountains, so almost everyone ended up living crammed together whether they liked it or not. So... wait a second. Could I actually get out of here? Not escape this time—rescue?

The moment the thought formed, my heart started pounding the same way it had right before I shoved Inha. Physical escape had too many limits, but how was she supposed to stop sound from leaking out?

I moved immediately. I walked toward the wall. The room was so small I reached it in only a few steps. When I raised my hand I felt it trembling. Maybe because I was completely naked, goosebumps prickled all over my skin.

I wondered if she'd break another finger if she caught me this time. Thinking about it, it was strange that when I'd bolted in a panic before she'd only stuck the dildo in me—and even that had been hard enough to make me shudder now.

Then, just as my two fingers closed around one of those distinctive little foam bumps—

Clack. Click.

The door opened.

"Heeyeon~."

"Hiiik!"

Had I been this startled even once in the last four years? My body actually left the floor for a second. I spun around. Remembering I was naked, I fidgeted my arms and legs uselessly before covering my chest and crotch.

"...What are you doing? Standing there?"

"Ah, th-that, m-my neck was stiff, so I was j-just walking..."

"..."

Just as I expected. Inha looked at me with open suspicion. After a beat she went, Hmm, okay, and walked into the room. The door closed again behind her.

"Did you finish your homework?"

She asked while looking at the papers spread messily across the floor. Without taking off her outer coat she sat on the edge of the bed. Her bag stayed on too.

"Ah, uuh, th-that, I w-was doing it, the questions..! I finished all the questions and was writing the r-reflection at the end..."

"...Hmm, is that so? When did you wake up? Ah—there's no clock."

"...Yes..."

Inha bent down and picked up the papers. Looking at the back of her neck, the urge to just leap on her surged up hot and sudden.

"Mm, yeah, you finished the questions. Good girl. Come here!"

She flipped through the sheets roughly, shoved them aside, and patted the spot next to her. I walked over stiffly and sat. She slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against her. The outer surface of her coat was still cool, as if she'd only just come in.

"Still, you did well. Good job. I'll grade it later. I have to set up the bed soon anyway."

While she spoke she pressed my shoulder a little so I hunched, then used the arm around me to casually tap my nipple. Then her free hand dipped into her bag and came back out.

"Here. This."

In her hand was a pair of handcuffs with soft, pillow-like padding on the inside. I took them without thinking and looked up at her. Her arm was heavy across my shoulders.

"Th-this, wh-why..."

"Put them on. Wrists and ankles. Left wrist to left ankle, right wrist to right ankle."

"...Uuh, b-but, y-you said you'd l-let me go—"

Inha's arm tightened and forced me to bend forward hard. Afraid of falling off the bed I squirmed a little, and she leaned in to whisper right against my ear.

"You think I don't know?"

"Wh-what—"

"Cuff yourself. Before I actually kill you."

"Hhk...!"

She whispered it. The strength in the arm pinning me down made the difference in power feel enormous, so I just nodded hard, desperate to get out of the moment.

Only then did the arm around my shoulders loosen. Inha stood up in one motion, peeling off her coat while muttering,

"Still hasn't learned her lesson."

My shoulders flinched for no reason.

"Hurry up and put them on, Heeyeon."

She said it while walking toward the nightstand. I fumbled the cuffs onto my ankles, then onto my left wrist, biting back the pain from the two fingers that still had a long way to go before they healed.

I made a strained sound as I awkwardly locked the right ankle, then forced the right wrist into place.

"S-senior— uuh, I, I finished cuffing myself...!"

I said it hoping that finishing fast might earn me even a little mercy. The word "senior" slipped out before I remembered, and I squeezed my eyes shut while praying she'd just let it pass, still facing her turned back.

"...Ha."

When I opened my eyes again, Inha's hands were full of black odds and ends.