Tutorial Mission: Jeong Hye-yun

While Hye-yun went to fetch her laptop, the familiar melody chimed again, followed at once by the voice of the homunculus named Jini.

A mission.

Master?

What the hell is this supposed to mean?

This particular mission left me with a real sense of revulsion. I had no desire whatsoever to enter that kind of relationship with her. More than seeing her submit, I wanted to watch her cling to me with sweet, playful affection.

Of course, another part of me still wanted to dominate her completely, to bind her to me. But she was already so obedient that she had even agreed to allow a second woman. Did we really need to force a Master-and-slave dynamic on top of that?

Am I actually an S-type?

I still wasn’t sure. For now, the resistance was stronger. Yet the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠penalty for refusing was too steep. Oh Jeong-mi would actively sabotage us. And this felt like a linked chain of missions—if I abandoned it now, I was afraid of what might follow. A gut-deep certainty whispered that everything I’d been given would vanish if I turned away.

In a single day I had climbed from the depths of hell straight into heaven. I had no intention of falling back down.

Monday… I still have to go to the Citizens Bank.

I needed to claim the lottery winnings, go on a date, and handle a dozen other things. In the end ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I decided to accept the mission and opened my eyes.

That was when I heard the soft beeps of the door lock being unlocked.

“Ian, I brought what you asked for earlier.”

“Yeah. Just put it on the bed for now. Stay like this a little longer, same as before.”

Her face flushed crimson as she stripped again. No matter how many times I looked, her body was breathtaking.

She would call me Master?

Could we ever go back after that?

My knowledge of SM was shallow at best, so I couldn’t be certain, but there had to be softer forms of play.

I rolled onto my side and opened my arms. Naked, Hye-yun came to me, turning her back and nestling close. Before I could even guide myself in, she lifted one thigh slightly and used her own hand to align my cock with her entrance.

I was already hard from pure imagination; the head slipped in with almost no resistance.

Slick.

“Haaang…”

She rocked her hips, slowly descending until she was fully seated, buried in the deepest place we both loved most.

“Don’t push yourself. Let’s just stay like this a while. I think I like being inside you like this more than anything. If we ever lived together, I’d want to sleep this way every night.”

She nodded, swallowing a tiny moan, and closed her eyes against my chest.

Five minutes? Ten? A long stretch of quiet passed before her voice returned, trembling.

“Haa… haa… Ian, we really are dating, right?”

Her voice shook. For the fifth time since earlier she was seeking confirmation, as if anxiety still gnawed at her. Her hand clamped tightly over mine where it rested on her stomach.

“Yeah. If you’re that worried, want me to fill out a marriage registration form today? You can file it whenever you want. Just check the box that allows polygamy.”

“Hehe. Okay. We don’t have to register right this second, but if you do that for me, I’ll feel safe.”

She faced forward again, eyes closed, pressing herself even tighter against me.

Crazy.

A careless joke about marriage, and she latched onto it without the slightest hesitation. No resistance at all. Hye-yun was showing clear signs of possessiveness.

And I didn’t mind. Not even a little.

She was already giving me permission for multiple wives. The more she sought proof of my love, the more my own unease melted away.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Even stacking every actress I knew against her, none of them—different types or not—felt more beautiful with any real ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠certainty. I had been the one fretting, desperate to hold onto her. Yet here she was, voluntarily seeking confirmation of love and the chains that came with it.

I tickled her belly; she twitched. My hand climbed higher and gently kneaded her breast.

“Ahng!”

I brought my lips right to her ear.

“Hye-yun. Don’t be anxious. How about we go on a date Monday afternoon?”

“Huh? Really? Yes!”

She tried to twist around in delight, only managing a moan before nodding hard. I stroked her stomach again; she squirmed but didn’t stop me, so I even gave the soft flesh a light squeeze—there was almost nothing to grab.

“Don’t. Don’t grab my belly fat.”

“What belly fat? There isn’t any.”

She pulled my hand down and pressed it firmly onto her breast instead.

“Haha.”

I laughed once and rubbed her breast with my palm.

“Anywhere you want to go?”

“Namsan. I want to hang a love lock there.”

A love lock on Namsan. Even dramas hardly showed that anymore. Truthfully, watching those old shows, I had always wanted to go myself.

“Why? So we can hang our names and make a wish?”

“Yeah. If you lock it and throw the key away, the love lasts forever.”

“All right. I’ll come by the studio around three.”

“Okay. Three o’clock…”

She stretched out an arm and touched the laptop. Right beside her pillow, the screen was perfectly visible.

[Favorite Films]

“These your taste?”

“No. I think they’re Mom’s.”

I reached over her shoulder, took the mouse, and clicked into the folder, opening video after video.

So this is it.

My cock twitched hard. By my standards the content was extremely rough. Even the short thirty-minute clips showed mouths, pussies, and assholes being pounded without mercy.

Hardcore videos.

I flipped through them quickly.

“See? All of them are the same size as yours or smaller.”

“Yeah.”

“And I felt just as good as those women. But how did my face look? Was I as ugly as them?”

The clips radiated pure, peak ecstasy. Completely different from Japanese stuff. Fake moans had always turned me off Japanese porn, but when a woman was taking something truly massive, every sound—pain or pleasure—came out honest.

Just like Hye-yun.

“No. You looked incredibly happy. And beautiful.”

Honestly I had only really looked at her face once; I didn’t have much to say. It had been my first time too, so I hadn’t had the luxury of studying her expressions. All that mattered was that she was satisfied and so was I.

“You just couldn’t see it. I was drooling and even had snot running. I was so out of it I kept having to wipe it…”

“Really?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Baby, next time I’ll get ready so we can do anal too.”

“Huh? It’s fine. Just being inside you like this is enough for me.”

“No. Baby, I’m curious.”

“Haha. Okay.”

Twisted sexual ideas. This was exactly why people said learning sex from porn was dangerous.

[FBI Warning: Do not follow~]

I was starting to understand why those disclaimers existed.

“It’s not… dirty or anything, right?”

“Go outside and ask. Is there a single guy who would refuse when his girlfriend offers anal?”

While we talked we finished the folder. Hye-yun opened the next one labeled Soft SM. She froze for a second, glanced back at me, and swallowed hard.

“Baby, don’t get the wrong idea. This is absolutely, absolutely not my taste.”

“Okay.”

Five videos. The same Black man and Asian woman couple from the “America 1” folder appeared—the ones who mixed Korean and English.

“This Han Jeong-sook is the slave of Michael Rayatt-nim. Please accept her.”

The woman alternated between Korean and English, face half-hidden behind a mask that covered even her nose, prostrate on the floor. When the man said okay, she crawled forward and kissed both of his feet.

The camera cut; the previously distant shot closed in on a dark, gaping, ruined pussy. It fluttered as if juices were about to spray.

Then the subtitle [Deep Throat] appeared, and the Black man’s cock disappeared to the root down her throat.

A slap.

Thick spit running.

A parade of filthy footage.

Yet somehow the woman on screen seemed to love it even while choking and suffering.

Other videos featured up to three Korean women—all middle-aged—with the same Black man named Michael. That was the entire rest of the folder.

“Baby… what if I call you Master? Would you like that?”

“Huh? I mean, it’d be hot, but do we really need to?”

Was she trying to mold me to her own preferences now?

I had the mission, and if she wanted to call me Master, I was more than grateful.

“I thought you said it wasn’t your taste?”

“Well… watching again, I got that same tingly feeling you must be getting.”

She was talking about how much wetter and tighter her pussy had become, how it was already chewing on me. Her breasts had swollen fuller too.

“I want to do anal, and that deep-throat thing too.”

“Ah. Was that what you were about to try earlier?”

I remembered how she had flinched when my open palm rose without thinking.

“…Yeah. But yours is so hard I got scared.”

…

Jini’s voice. Telling me that right now could only mean one thing: do the deep-throat thing Hye-yun was asking for.

“All right. If Hye-yun wants it, of course I’ll do it. Let’s try. If it hurts, we stop.”

“Hehe. Okay. Thank you, baby… no—Master.”

“I’m grateful too. But we don’t have to do it all the time. Let’s set a rule: only during the really intense play do we use Master, slave, dirty talk, spanking—whatever. So neither of us gets our feelings hurt.”

She nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I like calling you baby too. So the moment I say Master, you have to treat me like a slave?”

“Got it. And the second you call me baby again, we stop. Deal?”

“Okay.”

She giggled happily. We had finished the videos, so I closed the laptop and set it on the floor beside the bed.

“Master?”

“…What is it, you little slut?”

She nodded hard.

“Baby?”

“What is it, Hye-yun?”

“Nothing. Hehehe.”

The moment the laptop was down she started alternating “Master” and “baby,” laughing the whole time.

Master… The most striking magazine position I had ever seen flashed through my mind.

My cock twitched.

Smack.

I gave her ass a light slap and squeezed it.

“Hye-yun, can we try the position that left the biggest impression on me from a magazine?”

“Huh? Okay. But I’m not ready for anal yet.”

“It’s not anal.”

“Then okay.”

I wrapped an arm around her waist and sat up on the bed. She ended up straddling my lap. I scooted to the edge so standing would be easy.

“Sitting?”

“No. Just a second—don’t be surprised.”

I spread her legs wide. She was facing the same direction as me. Sliding my arms under her thighs until the crooks of my elbows locked behind her knees, I slowly lifted her legs.

Her knees folded as her legs rose, suspended on my arms.

“Ahng.”

I stretched my arms forward; her legs pressed tight against my sides, only the lower halves kicking helplessly. Finally I raised my hands past her breasts and clasped them behind her head, fingers laced.

“Kyaa… this is so embarrassing…”

“I did everything you asked, didn’t I? Hmm?”

“Okay.”

The instant permission was given I stood. She remained impaled deep on my cock, her entire upper body and legs completely bound by my arms and hands. Especially the hands locked behind her head—I could decide whether she looked forward or down. With her legs firmly restrained, I drew my hips back and thrust upward hard.

She doesn’t weigh a thing. So light.

Thud-thud-thud.

“Haaaaaang!!! Yes! It feels so good! Haang, haang!!”

She had no idea what to do with herself; her arms wrapped tightly around mine. Suspended in midair, completely still except for the frantic kicking of her legs, she took every thrust of my cock.

“Too bad we don’t have a big mirror.”

Thud-thud-thud.

“Haaaang!!! I’ll buy one! Right here! I love this position too!”

Five hours.

For a couple on their first day, aside from a few short rests, we were no different from animals in heat. We tried almost everything except deep throat and anal. Every position I knew, every position she knew—we worked through them all until we settled on the ones we both loved most.

More than anything, I learned what Hye-yun likes first…

Being lifted and fucked. After that first intense experience, any position where she was held up drove her wild. Her absolute favorite was facing me, legs wrapped around my waist. I preferred binding her with my arms and pounding her—whether standing or pinning her legs while she lay down.

Do I have a dominant streak after all?

We still knew almost nothing about each other’s lives, yet we had already built a solid library of favorite positions. When that thought hit us we both burst out laughing.

What made it possible was that neither of us seemed to tire. Or rather, whenever she took or swallowed my cum, her stamina recovered almost instantly. We could have gone all night—days, even—but every end eventually arrives.

—Sorry, baby. Mom’s almost home.

—It’s fine. I’m the one who wasn’t thinking of you enough. It was our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first time.

I insisted on cleaning up, but she made me shower and leave. I stepped out of the studio apartment.

“Baby, I almost forgot the marriage registration form. I’ll bring it on our date so you can fill it out, okay?”

“…Yeah.”

I gave a crooked smile, kissed her forehead, and headed down the stairs.