The Whore in the Elevator
Yoon Seoha stared at the whore right in front of her.
A black suit jacket over a white dress shirt. The buttons at her chest were undone, her braless tits spilling out, along with the thin, cloudy fluid dripping to the floor—too watery to even call pussy juice or cum.
Her twintails were tied with condoms instead of hair ties, her mouth smeared with pubes, and her brazenly exposed tits marked with clear bite marks.
The whore looked like something out of a back-alley red-light district sketch.
"Whore."
"What?"
"Ah."
The thought slipped out unbidden.
The whore's eyes turned toward Yoon Seoha upon hearing it.
She'd been frowning at her phone. But as she turned her head and her red eyes met Yoon Seoha's, the scowl on her face miraculously smoothed out.
"What did you just— Oh. It's a futanari."
She let out a deep sigh, hands on her hips, and opened her mouth.
"Hey, even if you're a futanari, calling a stranger a 'whore'? Isn't that rude?"
"...What?"
"I mean, come on. Or do you onahole department types not even treat us like people? You look like a newbie—when did you start?"
It was an aggressively confrontational tone.
Even accounting for Yoon Seoha calling her a whore first, it was overly aggressive and rude for a mere female.
Yoon Seoha narrowed her eyes and spoke.
"Two days ago."
"Two daaays? Ha. I started a week before you, you know? Calling your senior a whore? A whore?? Sure, I look like a mess right now! But I'm not dressed like this to hear it from you!"
The female jabbed Yoon Seoha's chest with her finger.
Those red eyes looking up at her, still glazed with lingering pleasure—they now etched Yoon Seoha's face into memory.
"Ngh. Y-You're pretty normal-looking, at least..."
Ding. The elevator doors slid open with a chime.
The whore shoved Yoon Seoha's body lightly and stepped inside.
"Do it again and I'll scold you!"
Yoon Seoha let out a small sigh as she watched the bitchy female spout off even at the end.
"Wh-What?!"
"Haa, seriously."
Yoon Seoha stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, she jammed the stop button below the floor numbers.
With a crack, the glass covering the button shattered, and the elevator jolted to a halt.
"...Ahh."
"Too chatty for a bitch."
"I-I'm your senior..."
"And I'm a futanari?"
"...Eek."
Yoon Seoha approached the petite whore in the stopped elevator.
"Come to think of it, you called me 'futanari -nim' earlier, but now it's casual."
"I-I..."
"You reek of cum, but you're not a whore? Well, maybe 'whore' doesn't fit an onahole."
Yoon Seoha grabbed the onahole's tits—whore, no, onahole—and squeezed.
"I-I'm not an onahole..."
"Hm?"
"Eeeek... N-No, that's not it..."
"You're an onahole, right?"
Yoon Seoha shoved the onahole against the elevator wall and asked.
Her wrists pinned, cheek pressed to the wall—the onahole opened her mouth in a terrified voice.
"I-I'm..."
"An onahole, right?"
"...Y-Yes. I'm an onahole..."
Yoon Seoha chuckled softly at the onahole's confession and undid her belt.
With soft thuds, her suit pants hit the elevator floor.
"Ah, ugh..."
"Isn't your skirt too short? Still saying you're not a whore?"
"I-I'm not a whore..."
"Ah, right. You're an onahole, not a whore."
"...Hic."
Slap—
"Hooooh♡"
Slap. A red handprint bloomed on the onahole's ass.
Tears welled in her eyes as she bit back moans from the stinging heat. For such a trashy slut, knowing shame made her look pitiful.
If she were clueless, oblivious to embarrassment, she wouldn't have to hold back her moans.
"Th-This is rape..."
"Huh? How's this rape?"
Yoon Seoha tilted her head at the onahole's words.
"I'm just using an onahole."
"Huh...?"
"Rape's a word for people. And you're not a person."
"......Ah."
The onahole's face paled and stiffened.
It was strange.
No matter how much females were just cum-hungry bitches who crawled when shown dick, they had to know what kind of company this was.
And from her state, this wasn't her first or second time.
"...U-Usually, us onahole department girls get it from regular male customers...?"
"So?"
"A f-futanari is my first time...?"
"Want me to go easy?"
"Y-Yes...?"
Yoon Seoha pondered briefly as the onahole's voice grew meek.
A normal person would heed her. A normal employee wouldn't even say it.
But was this bitch in front of her normal? A normal employee?
No.
She was an onahole.
A simple masturbation toy. A sex relief object.
Originally, a silicone lump that couldn't talk, let alone spew sharp words.
"No."
So Yoon Seoha said.
"Ever seen an idiot use an onahole gently?"
The onahole's face darkened to despair.
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
"Gghk♡ Oguk♡ K-Kh, fuooo♡ Oouuugh, kkhk♡ Ogguk♡"
"Hng."
"O-Ooook♡ Kkhueeek♡ Oooook♡ Kh, hieeuk♡"
"Pretty standard."
In the cramped elevator.
Steam rose from evaporating sweat, filling the narrow space above.
The acrid stench of female soaked into the air itself.
Thick cum began splattering amid the pooled pussy juice and tears on the floor.
"Kh, heeek♡"
"Hm?"
"O-Ouuuugh♡"
Yoon Seoha gripped the onahole's ass and thrust her hips. It was an onahole small enough for both hands. Her pussy felt average, but raw and untamed.
"The section chief said onahole department ranks are one step below futanari department. Makes it easier."
"Kh, hioook♡"
"So an onahole section chief equals a futanari deputy chief. Meaning you—a week in—and me—two days—are equals."
"Ogogok♡ Kh, huaaak♡"
Yoon Seoha muttered as she drove deep.
"Or maybe you're below me?"
"Kh, huuuwup♡"
"Can't be sassy to a futanari, right?"
"S-Sorryyy♡"
Plop plop. Cum chunks dripped to the floor.
Semen overflowing from her womb.
No sense of waste. Futanari cum had over 90% pregnancy chance per load without proper birth control anyway.
If not, just keep dumping loads—two days or a week didn't matter.
'Am I learning bad habits?'
She hadn't expected to apply the section chief's car lesson like this.
Her thick glans scraped out the cum inside. If she gathered the floor puddles and shoved them into any woman's pussy, it'd impregnate her on the spot. Semen with that vitality, scraped out by its own producer.
"Huu♡"
A trembling shudder echoed.
Scraping out the slightly stale load, fresh new cum poured into the womb.
"Hkh, geeeuk♡"
"Mm, about two hours?"
Roughly five loads.
"Uuht♡"
No, six. Yoon Seoha stretched and picked up her pants from the floor.
"Mm, can't wear these."
She gave a wry smile at the pants, soaked in pussy juice and cum despite being brand new.
"My personality really has changed."
With a self-deprecating chuckle, Yoon Seoha hit the stop button again and stretched.
She glanced at the onahole collapsed on the filthy elevator floor, body quivering. As the doors opened, she dragged her out by the arm.
No one batted an eye at her bare legs or the raging, unsatisfied erection swinging free.
Stepping out on the third floor, she walked a short way down the hall.
She handed the used onahole and soiled pants to a passing janitor and arrived at the Futanari Department.
Opening the communal wardrobe, she grabbed new pants, sat at her desk, and booted up her computer.
The company homepage loaded automatically.
Among the latest videos sorted by recency, a familiar one caught her eye.
"When did they film this?"
Jang Miyu and Jang Miae.
A video of the mother-daughter pair turned onaholes had been uploaded.
A half-assed mosaic that screamed "just for show." Yoon Seoha had no idea when or how it was shot, edited, and uploaded. She played it while starting her report.
The clacking keyboard soon drowned under orgasmic oguk oguk moans.