Belated Regret (2)
Seohyun's mind, consumed by betrayal and hatred, finally cleared. Tangled memories flooded back into her brain as if they belonged to someone else. What had she done to Nayae, who begged her to stop because it hurt? She'd gagged her mouth and tortured both her holes endlessly. What had she done to Nayae, who trembled pathetically, too exhausted even to writhe? When Nayae's reactions faded, it irked her, so she'd yanked on her clitoris. Back then, no thoughts crossed her mind. She just hated Nayae so much. She wanted to make her miserable. She wanted Nayae to suffer at least half the pain she'd felt. She believed without doubt that this was righteous revenge. She was convinced Nayae's suffering was karma.
And now, Seohyun's memories rewound amid the chaos. What expression had she worn while inflicting endless cruelty? When Nayae, overwhelmed by unbearable pleasure turning to agony, thrashed against her chains—what had her own face looked like from behind as she silently thrust the drill deeper? A broken smile twisted her lips. She had been smiling.
"Ha... ha..."
A dry, hollow laugh echoed bitterly through the air.
2. It sucked him in gently on insertion, then clung to the tip and coiled around the glans when he tried to pull out, like rubber bands layered for perfect tightness. This living onahole, impossible to replicate with cheap toys, sent shivers racing up his spine.
"Shall we poke her pussy this time?"
After savoring Nayae's rear for so long, Yuchan shifted his greedy gaze to her other hole. Seohyun, dazed and pausing her masturbation, grabbed his arm. Her hair was a wild mess, her once haughty, icy face gone. She peeked up cautiously through white-rimmed eyes, forcing a servile smile that screamed utter submission—she'd obey any atrocity now.
"D-don't... I... I was wrong..."
"What are you talking about? You're the one who served up Nayae on a platter."
Without hesitation, Yuchan plunged into Nayae's soaked pussy. This hole, slick with oil and her juices, offered less friction than usual—different, softer. Rather than a relentless squeeze, the velvety folds caressed him smoothly, leaving him deeply satisfied.
Like someone watching a fire spread helplessly, Seohyun alternated glances between Yuchan and Nayae. She didn't even try to pull him off—just fiddled with his forearm.
"Stop... I'll do so good... You know my ass is super tight and chewy, right? I'll grip way better than Nayae... I promise, I'm confident..."
"Did you stop when Nayae begged you?"
Yuchan's words struck home. Seohyun froze as if punched in the gut.
Punched in the gut? An idea sparked in Yuchan.
"Feeling a bit sane now that your anger's faded?"
"I... I didn't want this... I... to Nayae..."
As Seohyun wallowed in belated regret, Yuchan pulled out of Nayae. Seeing it, she frantically spread her legs wide and lay back on the bed. Did she think he'd changed his mind at her pleading? She exposed her most shameful parts without shame, ready for his lust.
"G-good thinking...! Hurry and put it in... I love cock more than Nayae does... You liked when I acted like a bunny, right?"
Seohyun pressed her palms beside her head, twitching her fingers like bunny ears, coquettishly pleading. A pathetic, broken grin lingered on her lips.
"Seohyun bunny's pussy is in constant heat and wants cock so bad... Hehe, hehehe... I'll hop up and down on Master Yuchan's hips!"
Seeing proud Seohyun lisp like that, calling herself a bunny—it was hilarious. His smile gave her hope, so she amped up the babyish charm.
"Master, which of Seohyun bunny pervert's holes do you like best? I love both. Right? Right? Hurry..."
Her voice cracked thin as she spoke with that forced smile, like something lodged in her throat. Desperation born of realizing her actions—destroying Nayae, whom she'd claimed to love, out of mere jealousy and betrayal.
"Regretting it?"
Her seductive motions halted again. The strained smile crumpled into sorrow. Jewel-like tears began to fall.
"...Y-yes... sob... I regret it so much..."
"Then I'll give you a chance."
Though it won't really be your chance. Yuchan swallowed the afterthought and smiled faintly.
3. Yuchan's proposed game was simple: take three punches to the stomach. If she endured without quitting, he'd never touch Nayae again. Seohyun nodded with grim resolve. Her slender nude stood by the window like a statue in the moonlight. Lips pressed tight, she assumed at-ease position. Yuchan toyed with his fist before her—exaggeratedly, it was fist-sized as her face. It would hurt like hell. But enduring this would save Nayae forever. This was atonement. Steel yourself against the urge to flee, she fixed her gaze forward.
"Rules as heard. I'll hit your slim belly exactly three times. Don't worry—I've done this plenty, so I know my strength. Survive three, and Nayae's free forever."
"Yes..."
As promised, Yuchan knew precisely how much the body could take before breaking. In his vigorous youth, he'd reveled in far worse abuses. Back then, he thought pure violence was peak submission. Recalling his immature past, Yuchan gave a wry smile.
As he approached, Seohyun itched to block him, arms loose. Adult male-female strength gap: 2-4 times naturally. Comparable to a 12-year-old boy. But Yuchan? More dedicated to training than anyone she'd known. True gym rat who'd earned the right to wear Under Armour by surpassing a 500kg big three total effortlessly. His power over hers? 10x? 20x? Unimaginable.
Expecting the punch, Seohyun squeezed her eyes shut—then felt a scratching on her belly and peeked. Yuchan crouched, marking a circle with a marker.
"Can't risk a miss and real damage. Been a while; might be rusty."
Safest spot experientially: midway between solar plexus and navel. Far from uterus or diaphragm, where abs are thickest. Marking done, he stepped back.
"First one."
For him, disappointingly weak—no hip drive, just a slight waist twist uppercut. Even Seohyun relaxed momentarily at the tame momentum.
Thud!
"Kyaaaahhh...!!!"
But the dry slap unleashed unimaginable pain. Felt like all organs dropped. She crumpled, hacking violently. World spun. Yuchan spun his barely-felt fist, eyeing her indifferently. Too light? Nah, sufficient. Fragile body, no violence tolerance.
"Up quick. Time's short."
Crawling in agony, she rallied at his call. One down—two more... Two more? Rallying, she found herself back in position, spine-ringing pain making her slightly hunched but ready.
"First was warm-up, super light. Second: five times harder."
Her durability limit: five times the first. No need to consider more—this second would end it.
Her trembling legs caught his eye. About to piss herself? Should've laid plastic.
"W-wait, just a sec...!"
As he prepped, she cried out desperately. Her frail shoulders shook with terror.
"B-breath... just a moment to breathe..."
She clutched her chest, prodding her belly. Oddly, no lingering ache—thanks to his control. But five times that... Wouldn't I die?
"Let's finish quick? You can still take it."
She wiped tear-streaked eyes, clenched teeth, thrust out her belly again. Gym-toned for her figure, decent muscle—pointless, though.
Thud!
Snap. She understood "five times." Vision flashed white despite no solar plexus hit. Sensory blackout—silence swallowed her. Yuchan let her savor the pain. He disliked hitting slaves like this—tricky control, and agonized faces weren't refined. No art, just brute results—even a broken finger yielded the same.
He craved subtler, more elegant ruin.
"Kkhuhh... huhk..."
She pushed up from the floor barely. Yuchan inwardly applauded her spirit. He'd added weight this time—up in three minutes? Friendship's power indeed.
Her face was ghostly pale. Violence lacked finesse, but instilled primal fear most crumbled to. Seohyun regretted her naivety. Even Yuchan would show mercy in a punch, she thought—his past "violence" was more cruelty. Legs leaden, standing was her limit.
"Last one? Congrats—survive this, Nayae's free. Just three times the last."
Three times last: fifteen times first. Instinct screamed: Can't survive. Nodding meant death. Young as she was, she'd pondered death casually—old age, cancer, accident. Never beaten bare-fisted.
But one more, and she'd atone to Nayae—who'd hate her unknowingly, but saved.
Steeling her breaking heart, she resumed position—and met Yuchan's eyes. Eerily clear, yet unreadable. He'd never said or hinted, but she knew: not just a brutal rapist. This demon had killed.
"I can't..."
Realizing that, her fight ended.