#17 Trap (2)
Nayae stopped by Yuchan's counseling office early that morning and froze in shock. The teacher who had declared yesterday that he was going after the stalker had bandages wrapped around his forehead and ear. Even his right thumb was splinted. To think someone could injure that terrifying teacher this badly. Was the stalker some kind of special forces operative?
Catching Nayae's stare, Yuchan gave a wry smile and sipped his coffee. It was a gift from Seohyun not long ago. She was still young, but making big money already—enough that even picky Yuchan favored this premium brand.
"We just tussled a bit."
"You're not hurt too badly, are you?"
It had been a while since he'd sustained injuries like this. He'd spent ages cleaning up the scene spotless, then emerged from the underground parking lot to find himself at an abandoned logistics center in Incheon. He hadn't wanted to leave any traces, but he'd had no choice but to call a taxi and head to the ER for treatment. Finger joints were delicate—nerves and ligaments especially vulnerable—so quick action was essential to avoid lingering effects.
"Does it hurt?"
"I got it treated at the hospital. It's bearable enough."
Nayae pressed her lips tight, her eyes welling up with tears. She looked like someone fretting over a loved one badly hurt. Forgetting all the academy warnings to keep her distance, she clutched his hand and wouldn't let go. If someone walked in, it'd be trouble. It wasn't grounds for dismissal like dating a student at school might be, but a 12-year age gap would still draw dirty looks—mostly aimed at Yuchan.
He hadn't called her in to praise last night's efforts, though. Yuchan extended his hand.
"Want to see something?"
"Oh, your phone?"
She tapped a few times, then handed him her phone. A feed streamed from a surveillance camera tucked in the corner of the bathroom ceiling—same model as the hidden cams in Nayae's mood lighting.
"Want to watch, Nayae?"
"No, I'm good."
With the sound muted, there was no audio. But there was Seohyun, furiously masturbating with a dildo. Anti-fog spray on the lens made her clearly visible even through the steamy haze. She knelt in the tub, grinding her hips desperately.
Mixed into her water and food: powdered aphrodisiac. Plus Nayae's planned masturbation show last night. Everything was going to script—Seohyun was starving for it.
Seohyun liked Yujin. And that affection was never going to be reciprocated. She'd felt endless frustration and helplessness, no doubt. If a cute, appealing Nayae subtly seduced her now, she'd fall right into it. That's how it had played out so far.
Yuchan slipped on earbuds and unmuted the feed.
In just two days, here she was masturbating while calling Nayae's name. The haughty cat-like poise from their first meeting? Vanished. She was pure seduction now.
Snickering as he watched the live show, Yuchan heard Nayae speak cautiously.
"Um... Teacher..."
"Yeah?"
"Could you... please leave Seohyun alone? I-I'll work extra hard to make up for her share!"
"..."
Yuchan fell silent. A pet interfering with its owner's decisions? Absurd. Especially when driven by mere jealousy.
Normal Nayae would've buckled under the pressure, apologizing profusely for her slip. But though she trembled, eyes downcast and gripping her skirt, she didn't retract it. Her first act of defiance since submitting to him.
Intriguing.
"Why?"
"...Pardon?"
"Why say that?"
"Seohyun's a good girl. S-sure, I'm happy being loved by you, Teacher... but it might not be the same for her."
Yuchan realized her plea wasn't just jealousy or envy. Even with her worldview twisted into ruin, Nayae still cared for her new friend Seohyun. She'd helped orchestrate Seohyun's fall, yet subconsciously sensed it would make her miserable. Or maybe the long-buried "victim Nayae" was surfacing to protect her. Nayae knew better than anyone how brutal it was to become Yuchan's property.
"Hmm..."
To Nayae, defying him was suicidal. He'd trained her that way, molded her that way. Yet here she stood on the knife's edge, shaking for a friend she'd known just two days.
Yuchan was pleased. His prey, whom he'd thought fully devoured, still had meat left on the bones.
"What a softie."
He slowly stroked her head. Surprised he wasn't angry, Nayae relaxed her expression. Unfortunately for her, it was premature relief.
"Nayae, you don't need to come to my place anymore. No more semen duty at the academy either. Let's go back to just counselor and client."
"T-Teacher..."
She tried to interrupt desperately, but Yuchan ignored her, cold and firm.
"Truth is, I like Seohyun more than you."
Nayae's breath hitched like cardiac arrest. Her wide eyes quivered. One word, and tears beaded at the corners.
"Seohyun's slimmer and prettier than you, right? She's a successful model, and above all, untouched—brand new. Not like you, secondhand."
In the cramped five-pyeong counseling room, their talk turned dangerously audible. But it was necessary. This plan hinged on Nayae's full buy-in. No pity or mercy for Seohyun could remain.
"I don't need you as much as you think, Nayae. You're just a replaceable toy. Not like Seohyun."
Since ancient times, women as mothers nurtured life, wired with empathy. They feared hurting others, reacted keenly to pain, teared up at sad tales. Yuchan lacked all that—but precisely because of it, he knew how to counter it: jealousy, that primal human instinct.
"If you think otherwise, name one thing you have over Seohyun."
Nayae was a rare beauty; point by point, she'd have something. But brainwashed self-esteem at rock bottom? She couldn't answer.
"Ugh... ugh... You're so mean..."
Tears finally spilled from her pretty eyes. She sobbed miserably, swallowing cries like an abandoned child.
"You said you loved me..."
"Love? Of course I love you—as a well-behaved pet."
Wiping tears with her sleeve, Nayae slid from the chair to her knees. No matter how battered or hurt, she always returned like a loyal dog. Wanting to apologize and submit after this? Her thinking was no longer sane.
The sight stirred Yuchan's lust sharply. He locked the door, stepping over her kneeling, bowed, sobbing form. He usually avoided such risks, but the impulse surging in his chest was unbearable.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... Don't throw me away... I'll be good... sob sob..."
"That's right."
Dragging her by the arms to the curtained corner with its simple bed—where he sometimes napped—he positioned her.
"No noise. Keep your mouth shut."
Silencing her ongoing sobs, he bent her over the sink where he rinsed coffee cups. Quick hands undid her waist tie, yanking down pants and panties together. Her round white ass peeked out, pants tangled at her thighs. Her engraved pussy dripped as if thoroughly teased—body aflame, opposite her heart's despair.
Yuchan freed himself through his zipper, slicking his cock on her folds before thrusting in.
Squelch.
Almost no resistance; she took him easily. Her inner walls clenched and rippled around him.
"Hngh..."
She barely steadied herself against the sudden invasion. Even dazed, duty lingered: serve with her body.
A narrow space hidden by curtains. In the academy's counseling office, getting fucked by her teacher. Someone might notice. If caught mid-sex...
Curse her body—it thrilled like a whore's at the setup, the moment he entered. Amid heart-wrenching pain, his humiliation fueled her womb like a drug.
"Seohyun, spread your legs wider?"
"Y-yes...?"
"No—right now, you're Seohyun."
"What... hng... do you mean...?"
Yuchan held up her phone. Seohyun still masturbated onscreen.
"Don't turn. Just look ahead. Seeing your face would kill the mood."
"Ah..."
"Here—one hand holding this."
He fixed the phone in her hand like a stand. If I serve my pussy well and take his cum, he'll forgive me. But her first rebellion's price was harsher than imagined. He was fucking her while watching Seohyun and pretending she was her.
Yuchan pressed his torso flush against her bent form. Despair oozed like thick mud, laced with suicidal sorrow.
"I love you."
Her beloved teacher overlaid another woman on her body, thrusting as he said it—sweet, gentle voice she'd heard only once before.
"Seohyun's body is the best. So well-maintained, perfectly groomed. Can't even compare to you."
"Sob... hngh sob..."
"Answer me."
"Y-yes... you're right... I'm sorry..."
It was awkwardly tender sex for Nayae, used only as a fucktoy. Sensitive to her every twitch, handling her like a fragile bubble. But that care wasn't for Choi Nayae. It was for Han Seohyun in his mind. His praise, his "I love you"—all for her.
"Stu... hnghk..."
Playing the farce, Yuchan watched her tremble in ecstasy and despair. Her plump ass jiggled like fresh salmon with each slap of his hips. She seemed oblivious, head foggy, but her sensitivity was heightened, wetness abundant.
He barely glanced at the phone. Why look elsewhere with Nayae reacting so freshly?
She should be grateful. He'd personally eased her guilt for the cruelties she'd soon inflict on Seohyun. In its place? Jealousy and rage.
He'd always played the false saint; time to try the false villain.
"Hnnngh..."
Her back arched like a bow, lips bitten to stifle moans. No time for leisure anyway. Barely 15 minutes in, Yuchan focused on finishing fast.
"Seohyun, gonna cum? Get pregnant for me. We'll live happily ever after, just us."
Even Yuchan, master actor, cringed at the cheesiness—but Nayae had no mind left to notice.
The brutal wedge spread thick and gooey inside her soft belly with his semen.