#12_ Brainwashing 1
Having been born and raised in a country that imposed an especially vicious silence on all things sexual, Nayae had always viewed sex as impure. It wasn't just that, though. As a heterosexual woman, she might never have found a man worthy of her affections. Ever since middle school, her noticeably swollen breasts had been the constant subject of boys' crude gossip, and after overhearing their chatter by chance, she stopped even looking at her peers. Calling her a slut, saying they wanted to grab her and grope her tits like crazy—those were words she never wanted to hear, words she couldn't understand why she had to endure. The leering stares that clung to her whenever she wore slightly form-fitting clothes filled her with disgust. Even at the pool, men shamelessly tried to get her number, so she only swam during the early dawn hours when older people were around. Some women might enjoy that kind of attention, but Nayae certainly didn't. Even when she lost her virginity to her first boyfriend, her only thought was, Is this really worth risking everything for? Her life rolled on unchanged. After failing the college entrance exam and enrolling in Cheonsanggye Self-Study Repeat Academy, she met Yuchan.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't much of a connection. They'd pass each other in the hallways now and then, or she'd steal glances at him chatting with students. His lively tone, his confident gestures. He seemed meticulously self-disciplined and kind. She'd never given much thought to her "type" before, but if she ever had one, wouldn't it be someone like Teacher Yuchan? The thought crossed her mind fleetingly. Up until then, she'd dismissed it as a passing acquaintance, like a childish crush on a teacher during puberty. Since she'd come to the academy to study, she might have deliberately ignored anything else. But then her ex-boyfriend caused trouble, and she ended up relying on Yuchan to resolve it. Their first meal together was enjoyable. Shocked and dejected from the ordeal, she was treated to an extravagant meal at his own expense. When she got drunk and whiny, he coaxed her, soothed her, and saw her safely home. That was probably when she truly started noticing him. Unlike others, his gaze never lingered creepily. There was a captivating charm in his low, resonant baritone. Above all, she admired how he never got swept up in emotions. He always maintained a steady balance, a bold composure untouched by the sticky sentiments she sensed in every other man she met.
And so, captured by that very man, she endured days filled with agony and humiliation. In the end, Nayae finally realized one truth: when a beast approaches its prey, it does so with astonishing calm, hiding its razor-sharp fangs.
This was too much. To drive her into such desperate arousal and then deny her any direct relief. When Yuchan thrust into her through the thick silicone barrier, Nayae had secretly hoped for it. If he pounded deep into her tingling insides, maybe she'd finally feel some release. But with her pussy already stuffed full of silicone, all she felt was a swelling pressure pushing outward with every stroke. No erogenous zones were stimulated. Even her cervix remained untouched, his shallow thrusts ending just at the front. No. This is actually a relief. At least if he used her like this, there was no risk of pregnancy. And technically, this wasn't rape, right? He wasn't putting his cock directly inside her. Escapist delusions mingled with the beastly lust overtaking her, both fueled by the drugs and alcohol blooming within her.
The onahole, warmed by Nayae's body heat, was honestly mediocre. It would have felt far better to just shove his cock into her pussy and shake her around. Yet Yuchan chose this method for one reason alone: to heap humiliation on her. Breaking a woman's mind with sexual abuse alone was difficult. After all, the female body was made to accept a man—that was the natural order. No matter how brutally you fucked her, she adapted in the end. But add humiliation, and it changed everything. Shame and degradation were emotions humans built no tolerance for. Even Nayae, who had endured so much in just two days, was now weeping in mortification. She could never have imagined her precious pussy being used like this.
As his cock withdrew, the onahole started slipping out from between her pussy lips. He warned her.
"It's starting to slide out slowly, Nayae. You okay with that?"
"Hic! I'll clench... I'll clench harder..!!"
He stopped moving and pulled out. Nayae strained desperately, bearing down on her lower abdomen, but the slick toy—already half-out—refused to be sucked back in.
"It's not working..."
Like a hen laying an egg, the onahole plopped onto the floor. Nayae stared in horror, then looked up at Yuchan.
"S-sorry... I'll put it back in..."
At his deliberately angry expression, she scrambled up, snatched the onahole rolling under the sofa, and frantically tried shoving it back into her pussy. It was utterly ridiculous. Yuchan loved seeing people do laughable things out of fear—something he, who had never known terror himself, could never experience. Plus, everyone reacted differently, like unique fingerprints, making it prime material for observation.
Was it panic? "Wh-why... won't it... go in?"
The slippery onahole kept missing her entrance or slipping from her trembling hands, rolling across the floor. Even as she manhandled her precious pussy like that, her face was filled more with terror than shame. After several failed attempts, she looked up at Yuchan with a wretched expression.
"Just wait a little... I can do it..."
Tears welled in her eyes, on the verge of bursting. Yuchan made his decision.
"That's enough. I know you tried your best."
"Hic... hic..."
At his mercy—not mercy—Nayae slumped in relief, her tension draining away. Her quivering naked body was pitiful. Yuchan tidied up the spread-out toys. His cock ached painfully hard, but if he came every time she got aroused, even he would wear out eventually. He draped a gown over the sobbing Nayae, leisurely sipped his drink, wrapped an arm around her side, and kissed her slowly. Having such a perfect body available anytime was a delight. He took her to the bathroom to relieve herself, then washed her clean once more. Now the real molding would begin.
Media portrayed brainwashing so dramatically that many dismissed it as fantasy. But Yuchan knew better: brainwashing was simply aggressive persuasion made real. History brimmed with successful cases—the Chinese communists brainwashing captured American soldiers during the Korean War, the CIA researching it to counter terrorism, and countless cults still practicing it today. After several trials, he had mastered the methods. Some women he'd turned into sex slaves had their heads toyed with by his hands until they pledged active submission. Back then, lacking finesse, he'd used rough tactics, but with Nayae, a relatively gentlemanly approach was feasible.
"Mind helping with this?"
With Nayae's assistance, Yuchan hauled a small desk from the storage closet into the bedroom. He added a few sheets of paper and surround-sound speakers. Nayae watched anxiously, unsure of his intent, but dutifully helped complete the setup.
Yuchan had outlined four environmental prerequisites for brainwashing. First: isolation. His master bedroom, impervious to any outside light or sound, could sever Nayae from everyday reality. A changed environment altered thinking. Acts that seemed grotesque in normal life became acceptable in total detachment from it.
Second: information control. Humans exposed to a single idea for 72 hours accepted it uncritically. Minimize incoming info, and relentlessly inject distorted truths, and Nayae would slowly internalize them. He'd diligently gathered the data during her training sessions—not for nothing had he recorded videos and degraded her. Vast evidence proving how lewd, useless, and pathetic she was.
Third: dependency. Like the Stockholm syndrome he'd mentioned before. He'd already imprinted that only Yuchan could free her from this hell. While tormenting her mentally, he'd hinted at gentle treatment for obedience. The moment she realized he was her only reliance in this confined space, she'd compromise with herself. Her gaze would shift from preserving self-esteem to the certain rewards of submission.
Finally: mental and physical exhaustion. Humans instinctively resisted all this—it negated their built-up identity, triggering psychological defenses. But anger and defiance drained massive energy. Induce emotional instability and bodily fatigue, and persuasion became effortless. He'd inflicted plenty of emotional shock already. It was nearly sufficient and would build further. The key was efficiently driving her body to ruin.
"Sit."
Without even asking what now, Nayae quietly perched on the chair by the desk. The barrage of unprecedented shocks had left her mind lagging. With all immediate threats gone, what was she thinking? Probably belatedly cringing at her frantic attempts to shove the onahole back in.
Yuchan grabbed a leather belt and loosely bound her slender ankle to the chair. It was slack enough to escape with minimal struggle, but that was irrelevant. This wasn't true restraint—it was to instill the sensation of being bound.
"You're not thinking of running, are you, Nayae?"
"Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it."
Her voice, forced out with effort, dripped with self-mockery. He'd pressured her into shameful acts, then shown measured kindness when she obeyed. In the heat of fear, she hadn't registered the humiliation, but now, relaxing, self-loathing would sink in. And now was time to instill fresh terror.
"Someone I had tied up once tried to escape. The moment I looked away, he bolted naked. He was a guy, though."
He spoke while placing four standing speakers around the chair. Nayae hesitated, then asked,
"What happened to him?"
"I didn't like him much, so I got a bit rough."
He mimed scissors with his fingers, snipping shallowly.
"Sliced his Achilles tendon with garden shears. So he'd never run again."
"...."
Nayae's face twisted beautifully. Her toes wiggled as if her heels suddenly ached.
"Felt like cutting thick burdock root. Tougher than expected—didn't snap clean. Had to twist it almost off at the end."
After releasing him, he'd leisurely pursued the crawling wretch for thirty minutes before flattening his skull with a shovel. Impossible without the mountain plot from his uncle. A youthful indiscretion.
"I was pretty hot-blooded back then."
Stroking his chin as he reminisced—not quite a memory—Nayae retched. With nothing in her stomach, only bile rose, which she barely swallowed back.
"Scared?"
"...No."
Yuchan slowly caressed her pallid face, pale as if oxygen-starved. Freezing cold.
"I don't want to get rough with you, Nayae. That's the truth."
What was truth, what was lies? Nayae stopped thinking altogether.