Chapter 205
Chapter 205
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 205
Chapter Title: Boundless Greed
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Greedy bitches with no end in sight.
"Yes."
A single-word reply.
It was the signal that her consciousness had returned—and a declaration aimed at Han Yura, another player in this hellish space.
Cheon Heyeon pulled the blanket tighter around her body and slowly sat up on the sofa.
Her gaze drifted past Han Yura, who was looking down at her wrapped only in a towel, and settled on something scattered across the hotel room floor.
The clothes she had worn here yesterday.
Or rather, what used to be clothes.
The perfect armor that had transformed her into the "Goddess of Taesung Reform" had been shredded into rags by last night's beast.
The blouse had all its buttons ripped off, and the skirt was torn open at the side, exposing everything underneath.
Utterly unwearable. Clear garbage now.
She slowly turned her head toward Han Yura.
Her pride stung, but she had no choice.
"Could I... borrow some clothes?"
Her voice was hoarse, but the effort to hide her humiliation was plain as day.
"Mine are... ruined."
Han Yura's impassive gaze flicked between the rags on the floor and Cheon Heyeon, barely covered by the blanket.
A faint smile—mockery or pity, impossible to tell—ghosted across her lips.
She nodded toward the dressing room.
"If my clothes are okay with you, they're in there."
The offer felt less like kindness and more like a subtle flex of superiority.
Instead of replying, Cheon Heyeon dipped her head in an elegant, dignified bow.
The best expression of her remaining pride.
And with that, she stepped toward the dressing room.
Right then, the blanket slipped from her body and pooled on the floor.
Her vulgar, exposed form was laid bare before Han Yura's impassive stare.
The stench of stale piss and the fishy reek of semen hung heavy in the air.
On her body clung the remnants of the magical girl costume he had half-torn last night, grotesquely mismatched to her curves.
The undersized outfit squeezed her ample breasts and hips like they might burst at any moment.
Her legs were clad in tacky red fishnet stockings and mismatched high heels.
Semen trailed down one thigh, a sticky white path marring her pale skin.
And above all, her entire body was covered in...
His crude, lewd graffiti scrawled in marker.
On her white belly: "Kim Cheolsu's Exclusive Cum Dump."
On her inner thigh: "I am Master's Bitch Slut."
And on her swollen breasts: a crude drawing of a man's cock.
That haughty bow from moments ago might as well have been a lie. Her true self was nothing but a broken, nameless plaything.
Cheon Heyeon froze like that for a moment.
'...First things first, I need a shower.'
Before getting dressed, she had to wash away every trace of this humiliation etched on her body.
Without missing a beat, as if nothing had happened, she headed for the bathroom attached to the dressing room.
She could feel Han Yura's cold, piercing gaze boring into her back.
The bathroom door clicked shut, finally granting her solitude.
But the silence only dredged up horrific memories.
Cheon Heyeon's eyes landed on the pristine white toilet in the corner.
That instant, a memory from last night whipped through her mind like a lash.
Him forcing her to kneel over it, mouth agape, using her like a semen disposal "toilet."
Her gaze dropped involuntarily to her lower belly.
Marker scrawl.
[Cum Toilet]
The word burned on her skin like a red-hot brand.
She clenched her fists without thinking.
The pain of her nails digging into flesh momentarily drowned out the boiling shame.
She twisted the shower handle roughly.
She had to wash it all away.
Every trace and memory carved into her body.
She twisted the shower handle roughly.
Under the pouring water, Cheon Heyeon lathered body wash in her hands and began scrubbing at the humiliating graffiti.
The marker ink ran black with the soap, but the true brands beneath wouldn't fade.
As her soapy hands brushed her breasts, her fingers caught on something cold and hard.
Piercings through her nipples.
Her hands slid lower.
And soon found the little bell dangling from her most intimate spot.
A small metal bell on her clit, tinkling faintly with every movement.
All of them—permanent symbols of vulgarity he had embedded in her body.
She froze under the shower spray.
No matter how much she scrubbed or erased, the undeniable proof remained: her body had been remade into his property.
Cold water streamed endlessly down her face.
Water or tears—she couldn't tell anymore.
In that moment of despair, faces of other women flashed through her mind.
Secretary Choi Yang, Congresswoman Oh Sea, Lee Soohee, Park Seulgi, Park Sojin,
Han Yura, and his wife, Yoon Chaewon.
And countless nameless others.
None of them bore these "brands."
Among all his women, he had marked only her like this—with piercings staking his claim.
That obsessive fixation.
That cruel uniqueness.
It was humiliation, yes—but also a horrific "honor" badge that only she possessed.
That realization ignited a hot flush in her cooling belly, chasing away the despair.
With trembling hands, Cheon Heyeon explored her body.
Her finger flicked the cold bell on her clit, sending electric jolts through her entire frame.
She couldn't hold back anymore. She shoved her fingers into her dripping pussy.
Rough, clumsy motions. Leaning against the wall under the pounding water, she fucked herself with her own fingers, broken moans spilling from her lips.
It was her pathetic, desperate self-soothing to survive this hell.
"Haa... haa..."
Leaning against the wall, she fucked herself with her fingers, broken moans spilling out.
One finger wasn't enough.
Her hole, trained on his thick, massive cock, mocked the slender intrusion with utter numbness.
Just hollow and lonely.
It greedily demanded more—rougher, fuller.
Without pause for thought, she wedged in a second finger between her slick walls.
Finally, that filling pressure deep inside.
Her hot inner flesh clung and squeezed her fingers greedily, like it was alive.
"Heut...!"
Unsated, she instinctively added a third.
The third finger plunged deeper along the stretched path.
And finally her pinky.
All four fingers buried to the hilt inside her.
Proof of the humiliating gape he had carved into her body.
But even this fell short.
It paled against his massive girth.
Her own fingers couldn't replicate that brain-shaking dominance.
The unfillable void made her moans grow more desperate.
She bucked her hips wildly, fucking herself furiously.
With her frantic rhythm, the little metal bell at her core began to sway.
Ting, ting—
Amid the roar of the shower and her bitten-lip gasps stifling her cries, the vulgar tinkling spread.
Even as she chased her own pleasure, it was a cruel reminder: she was his property.
Finally, her body hit its limit.
"Heut...!"
A short scream, and her back arched like a bow.
Orgasm crashed up her spine to her scalp.
Her ass twitched and spasmed uncontrollably.
As the aftershocks faded, she slid down the wall to the floor, panting.
Regaining her breath, she glanced at her fingers.
Coated in her juices mixed with remnants of his cum from last night.
She stared for a moment, then slowly brought them to her mouth.
No shame left.
Her red tongue emerged, licking every drop clean.
The tamed bitch's instinct to claim every last bit her master left behind.
After swallowing it all, she finally stood.
Now, truly clean of every trace.
.....
...
..
.
The bathroom door opened, and Cheon Heyeon emerged.
No trace remained of the woman who had just collapsed in self-induced ecstasy.
Wrapped in a white towel, she looked like an ancient Greek marble statue—noble, flawless.
Even the water droplets from her wet hair seemed artfully staged.
All marks erased, she had donned her mask once more: the "Princess of Taesung."
Her gaze turned to the living room.
Han Yura had already changed into a perfect silk blouse and slacks, seated on the sofa.
Impeccable, she stared at her laptop screen on her lap.
The messy remnants of last night's debauchery scattered around felt like they belonged to another world entirely.
Sensing Cheon Heyeon's presence, Han Yura looked up from the screen.
Their eyes met in the air.
One side: empty calm, scrubbed clean.
The other: cold reason piercing all.
They were no longer victims sharing the same humiliation.
No more the vulgar sluts sucking cum from each other's pussies.
No more bitches tangling tongues around one cock.
No more whores spreading wide, begging to be filled first.
No more feeding semen mouth-to-mouth, faces gripped tight.
Just the cold stares of women with boundless greed, locked on each other.
Han Yura broke the silence.
She tapped her laptop lightly, her voice utterly businesslike, as if nothing had happened.
"I heard from Cheolsu."
Her gaze fixed on Cheon Heyeon.
"Paju Bio Complex and Double Dragon Automobiles. They're 'our' business now, former Executive Director Cheon."
Subtle emphasis on "our"—a quiet jab.
Cheon Heyeon didn't reply. She walked to the dressing room, opened the door,
and pulled out a sleek black dress that screamed Han Yura's style.
Han Yura's gaze stabbed into her back like nails the whole time she changed.
Fully dressed, Cheon Heyeon returned to the living room a changed woman.
The perfect "Princess of Taesung," leagues beyond the towel-wrapped version.
She sat in the chair opposite the table, meeting Han Yura's eyes head-on.
"Not 'our' business. Mine."
Her voice was ice-cold, resolute.
"You're just 'assisting' me, Director Han. On the boss's orders."
A faint smile curved Han Yura's lips at the retort.
"Cheolsu said take it 'as far as your abilities allow.' Prove it, former Executive Director Cheon. Show me if you're worth my assistance."
Their eyes clashed like sparks in the air.
Last night's hot, sticky memories were gone. Now, only cold, razor-sharp business lay between them.