The Birth of the Slave Ledger
Slave Ledger
"Urgh..."
He'd thought it was just a graze, but the cut must have been deeper than expected. After dousing it with baijiu for disinfection and wrapping it in clean bandages, the cloth was soon soaked red with blood. Compared to the time he'd nearly died from a sword slash to the ribs by the Rakshasa Sword Fairy, this hardly qualified as a wound—but pain was something you never quite got used to.
Still, his mood was sky-high with the thrill of successfully capturing his first big prize. The Broken Heart Heroine was a master who could rank among the top hundred in the vast martial world, teeming with prestigious sects and countless eccentrics. Even the so-called Top Hundred Masters of the Murim—a title bandied about by thrill-seekers for fun—was no light accolade.
Under normal circumstances, third-rate warriors like them wouldn't even catch such an expert's eye. And yet, in a ridiculous twist, that very master sat stripped utterly bare before them, not even permitted a single thread of clothing.
Jang Il lounged back against the chair's armrest, his expression relaxed as he stared appraisingly at Yeon Su-rin, who sat naked facing him. He slipped his fingers into her open mouth and toyed with her tongue. It yielded without resistance, reshaping to his pressure. Sticky saliva coated his fingers.
He extended his tongue to lick around her eyes, but she didn't even blink. Her vacant, unfocused gaze stared straight ahead. A perfect expression of total loss of will.
Jang Il chuckled softly and spoke.
"Who am I?"
"...You are the Jeolhwadae Leader..."
Yeon Su-rin answered in a posture of utter submission, worlds away from her earlier demeanor.
"And you?"
"...A Jeolhwadae member..."
"Just leader and member, is that it?"
"......No. All Jeolhwadae members... are the faithful slaves... of the Jeolhwadae Leader..."
"And what do you call me? Just 'leader'?"
"...No. Master..."
"Heh heh heh, good. You're a good slave."
"...Thank you... Master..."
Jang Il's face lit up with satisfaction. Master-subordinate relationships abounded in the martial world, but calling someone "Master" was exceedingly rare. It was an admission to the world that one was their slave. And for the world's Broken Heart Heroine to have a "Master"? People would be stunned—and he'd feel fantastic. He could already hardly wait to hit the murim scene.
With their relationship established, it was time for physical training. Still seated, Jang Il extended his bare foot and kneaded her right breast this way and that. Despite having borne a child, it was full and firm, un-sagging—distorting and jiggling under his toes' pressure. The sensation differed delightfully from using his hands.
"What am I touching with my foot right now?"
"...Breast..."
"Putting on airs, are we? Wrong. These are udders."
"...Udders..."
"Not just udders. Always call them your filthy udders."
"...Yes... Not just udders... I must always call them my filthy udders..."
"That's right, then..."
Jang Il's toes trailed slowly downward, poking her navel once.
"Spread your legs."
"...Yes... Master..."
Yeon Su-rin spread her legs wide. Her most private place—the chaste widow's sanctum, untouched by remarriage since her husband's death—lay utterly exposed to a strange man.
Jang Il thrust his toes toward that sanctum. Her decade-preserved slit was freely violated by his filthy toes, but she simply sat with an empty expression.
Thrusting in and out like intercourse, savoring the widow's vaginal walls against his toes, Jang Il asked:
"What am I poking with my toes right now?"
"...Vulva..."
"In cruder terms."
"...Pussy..."
Words she'd likely never uttered in her life spilled from Yeon Su-rin's emotionless lips in a murmur.
Jang Il shook his head—nope.
"Not just pussy. Always call it your filthy dog pussy."
"...Yes... Not just pussy... I must always call it my filthy dog pussy."
From the mouth of the woman who'd been a chaste widow and proud female martial expert just moments ago came "dog pussy"—and Bang So-un's crotch swelled massively. It was viler than the cheap "pussy" he usually made them say.
A bitch in heat spreads for any dog, anywhere, heedless of onlookers. "Dog pussy" implied a woman's slutty, indiscriminate cunt that parted for anyone on command, just like a bitch's.
Any woman hearing such an insult normally would draw steel without hesitation. But for a renowned female master to utter it herself? The stimulation was immense.
"This one's easy then. What're these?"
Jang Il's foot brushed the pubic hair on Yeon Su-rin's slightly darker mound—thicker than average. He caught a few strands between his toes.
"...Dog pussy hairs..."
Jang Il clapped in delight at her answer.
"Haha, what a clever slave."
"...Thank you... Master..."
"Good. Stand up."
"...Yes... Master..."
Yeon Su-rin slowly rose, her naked form standing limp. Jang Il eyed her intently, deep in thought.
Bang So-un couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"What's up, Jang Il?"
"Young master, mind fetching some silk thread and scissors?"
"Silk thread and scissors? For what?"
"Gonna take her measurements."
"Measurements?"
"Yeah. If Jeolhwadae's gonna be the Golden Dragon Battlefield's elite force, don't they need proper uniforms with some dignity? Can't do that without body measurements."
"Ah, right. Makes sense. Even third-rate clans outfit their guards in matching white uniforms— an outfit like Jeolhwadae can't go without."
Bang So-un nodded in agreement, handing over the silk bundle and scissors. Jang Il began measuring with awkward, first-time motions—dropping thread for height and snipping, then bust, waist, hips. Then, smirking at some thought:
"Might as well make a proper Slave Ledger. Every inch of this bitch's body is ours now—we need exact specs, right?"
"Slave Ledger?"
"Heh heh, yeah. Watch closely. First, move that writing desk over... Gonna need blank paper, ink, inkstone, brush too. It'll last forever, so high-grade paper, please."
Bang So-un still looked puzzled but trusted Jang Il's expertise in training. He silently gathered the stationery.
Jang Il grinned, picking up the brush.
"Name: Yeon Su-rin... Age?"
"...Thirty-seven..."
"Whew." Jang Il whistled low. She looked years younger. He wrote name and age at the top, then quizzed her on family, relationships, her martial arts—filling half the page before pausing.
"Should call in a master painter for a nude portrait too."
True—such a defenseless pose and expression from a famed heroine wasn't everyday viewing. A painting would make for a truly special ledger.
"We'll do portraits once more Jeolhwadae members join... Where was I? Ah, most sensitive spot?"
"...Clitoris..."
"Anal sex experience?"
"...None..."
"Virgin ass, huh."
From there, Jang Il unleashed questions no sane mind could answer without shame: past sexual encounters and count, favorite position, masturbation history and frequency, oral sex experience. Yeon Su-rin answered obediently like a good child, her voice devoid of emotion. Jang Il recorded it all diligently.
In short order, she was stripped bare—not just body, but every secret within.
But that was just the start. Jang Il approached with the silk bundle, pinching and tugging her left nipple before meticulously inspecting her breast: size, sag, areola position/size/color, nipple length/color—examining, touching, noting it all. Left done, he moved to right, checked for asymmetry, then downward.
"Turn around, grab your ankles, spread your legs."
"...Obeying orders... Master..."
Yeon Su-rin complied meekly, hands to ankles, legs spread. Jang Il scrutinized her raised buttocks, exposed pussy and anus: pubic hair span/length/density, clit position/color/size, labia majora/minora color/sag, vaginal opening size, inner wall texture, anus-to-vulva distance, anus size—obsessively probing and recording.
Bang So-un burst into disbelieving laughter watching. Jang Il always exceeded expectations. He'd never dreamed it'd go this far. Good thing she was hypnotized—any woman learning this would die of humiliation, no matter her temperament.
But damn, it made for a one-of-a-kind Slave Ledger. Jang Il smiled at the densely filled page.
"Just a few pages to start, but it'll grow mighty."
"Haha, you're incredible. But here's an idea to improve it."
"What is it, young master?"
"Agreed on the nude portrait. Text alone vs. visuals? Night and day. But one painting's not enough. Face alone, breasts alone, pussy alone, full body last. Perfect Slave Ledger then, right?"
Jang Il looked punched.
"Haha, spot on... You fill my gaps perfectly."
"Hahaha, no false modesty. I'll find the best painter out there."
Once more, the two men exchanged knowing smirks.